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Spoiler alert: This is the first draft of the ninth book in the Reckless Faith series, now with the working title of The Path of Andromeda. You can start with the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

Vecky was awoken from her slumber by a soft knock at her door. Not normally one to be roused from sleep by such a quiet noise, whoever was there had caught her between REM cycles. A wall-mounted monitor, which she hadn’t figured out how to turn off, provided a slight glow for her to find her way to the door. Upon opening it, she saw Helena walking toward the front of the ship, a large satchel hanging from her shoulder. Slipping into her boots, but not bothering to lace them, Vecky followed. Her quarters, and that of her friends, were on the top deck, toward the aft, on a central corridor that ran to the Tempest’s bridge. Helena got their first, with the younger woman arriving a few seconds later.

Similar to her quarters, the bridge was lit entirely by monitor screens, most of which displayed dire warnings about the ship’s dead or dying systems, information that had long since become irrelevant. Barely acknowledging her presence, Helena sat in the pilot chair. Even in the low light, Vecky could see that her forearms were covered by a dark liquid. At least familiar enough with the ship to know where the light switch was, she activated half of the overhead lights.

“Are you okay?” asked Vecky

“Physically, I’m fine,” came the quiet reply.

She looked at the blood coating Helena’s arms; the woman had done a hasty job of washing her hands, but it was still obvious that something bad had happened. “How alarmed should I be?”

“It’s only a matter of time before someone discovers the body. This time of night, though, and considering I was able to get out of there without anyone noticing, I’d guess we have a few hours.”

Vecky instinctively reached for her hip to check for the pistol she knew wasn’t there. “I take it Captain Strouth had a problem with what you were doing.”

“Briefly.”

She sat in the nearest chair, and began to lace up her boots. “Do you need some time for yourself? I’ll make sure you’re not bothered.”

Helena stared out of the main viewscreen, which offered a wide view of the stars aft of the Serpent. “With all the sneaking around I had to do to get here, I’ve had plenty of time to think about what happened. And to answer your next question, the message got out.”

“So I’m guessing you were discovered. You got out enough information to matter?”

“For our purposes, yes; though I wish I had more time to be more verbose.”

Vecky paused before replying. “I suppose I should say thank you.”

“You can thank me when we’re aboard your ship and headed to Ibnal’saffar.”

“Why don’t you come back to my quarters and get yourself cleaned up?”

“How old are you?”

“I think I mentioned it earlier. I’m nineteen.”

Helena nodded. “Ah, yes. You’ve lived a lifetime more than some people in such a short time. Tell me, have you ever killed anyone who wasn’t threatening your life?”

“Yes. I thought I had a good reason at the time. It helped me to vilify that person, but it seems that won’t work for you. I won’t pretend to know what that’s like.”

“I’m lucky that it was your door that I chose. You might be the only person within five hundred light-years that can understand what it’s like to have a Kira’To stuck in your head.”

“For the most part, I think so. I’m sorry Strouth wasn’t capable of understanding.”

Helena began to cry. “I didn’t even try to make him. Or anyone else, for that matter. Around here, such talk is just the ramblings of a madman, even to people as welcoming as the Order of Andromeda.”

“I’m not a judge or jury. I’m the last person to cast judgement about anything. All I know is that you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, and we will ours. If our ship does show up, we’ll take you to the planet. What happens after that is up to you. Right now, I have to tell my friends what happened. Is that okay?”

“Just Scherer for now. Please.”

Vecky got up, exited to the corridor, and walked down to John’s room. She knocked on the door, and a few seconds later John answered, bleary-eyed.

“Helena’s on the bridge,” she said. “She got the message out, but she had to kill Strouth to do it.”

John lowered his head, and after a moment uttered, “Fuck.”

“Right. Though nobody saw her leave, who knows how long we have until he’s found. She came to me first, and right now she only wants to talk to me and you.”

“Okay. Give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I’ll be right there.”

John went back inside his quarters. Vecky stopped by hers, grabbed a package of wet-wipes, and returned to the bridge. She offered the package to Helena, who accepted.

“Scherer’s on his way.”

Helena set to work cleaning herself up. “You know, I used to come here on my own rather often. The Tempest is the only ship with a clear view of the rear of this contraption. It’s quite peaceful, don’t you think?”

Vecky sat down. “Yes. It’s important to have some alone time once in a while.”

“I thought opening a bar would help distract me from Andromeda. It works, to a point. I almost feel bad having to walk away from it at a moment’s notice. Still, everything I really care about is in this bag.” She patted the satchel. “Even so, if I had to leave this stuff behind, it would be a small loss.”

“It’s humanoid nature to hold onto things. But not having a real home is what bothers me the most. I’m lucky that I have not just a ship, but a home on Primus to return to if I want.”

Helena stared at the stars. “I still own property on the Swan. It seems hollow and meaningless to me now. I’m glad you feel differently.”

Vecky sensed that her attempt at comfort was failing, so she joined her in watching the beauty of space until John arrived. The man was fully dressed, including, she easily assumed, his sidearm.

“Vecky told me what happened,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” she replied. “Mister Scherer, I sincerely hope your ship gets here soon. I’m sure you’d rather not get into a firefight here in order to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“We’d rather not, yes. How long ago did you send the transmission?”

“Two hours.”

“Then assuming they left immediately, they’ll be here any minute. But if they were delayed for some reason, it could be longer. So, I think it would be best to find somewhere for you to hide.”

“Madet Peschiri knows every inch of this place. I can’t hide forever.”

Vecky said, “Perhaps, but anywhere else is better than the Temp…”

She cut herself off. A familiar feeling had just washed over her.

“We just dropped out of FTL,” said John.

“Yup. Shit. The clock has started.”

__________

“Andrews! Throttle down! Full stop! Damn it, we overshot it.”

On the bridge of the Reckless Faith, they had just detected a spacecraft along their route. What they did not expect was for the vessel to be stationary. Ari had just alerted the others to what her sensors were showing her. Dana deactivated the FTL drive, then throttled back. At their current location, all they could see were distant stars. Eva and Dana also looked at the sensor data.

“It’s definitely a large ship,” said Eva. “Let’s hope it’s the one we’re looking for.”

“We overshot it by about three hundred million kilometers,” said Ari. “Dana, make our speed three c, that’ll get us there in five and a half minutes.”

Dana nodded. “Roger.”

Confirming first that the invisibility shield was still active, Dana locked in the coordinates and fired up the stardrive.

“I gotta tell you, my heart is pounding,” said Eva.

“Same here. I miss our friends so much.”

Ari said, “Me too, but stay frosty. Friday, you good?”

“I’ll keep it together,” replied the cat.

“Let’s get on with it,” said Tycho.

A few minutes later, as planned, Dana dropped out of FTL five thousand meters from their target. This gave them a great view of the vessel, as it took up more than ten degrees of their field of vision. What lay before them was a long, massive gray cylinder, with scores of various ships docked along its length, in a herringbone pattern.

“That’s gotta be it,” said Eva.

The main structure is about a thousand meters long,” began Ari. “I’m reading one hundred ships attached to it. The majority of those are in a powered-up state but, only the four on each corner of the main structure are showing functional stardrives. All four have some variation of a uranium hexafluoride-fueled drive. Though it’s a kinda hard to tell at this distance, there are approximately fifteen hundred life signs on board. I’m reading zero SRC traffic and very little RF activity in general.”

“How the hell can that thing achieve FTL?” asked Dana.

“A wing and a prayer,” said Eva.

“I wonder why they stopped,” said Dana. “There’s nothing around here for hundreds of light-years.”

“Mechanical problems, perhaps. Come on, let’s take a closer look.”

Dana nudged the throttle forward until the Faith was moving at 100 km/h. As they drew closer, the true size of the structure became apparent. The smaller ships attached to their host were of every imaginable design, with only a few immediately recognizable to the crew. Some seemed to be quite old, consisting of flimsy, blocky segments, and branching solar panels, more reminiscent of early Earth efforts than the sleek, streamlined vessels they were used to encountering.

“It looks like most of those things will never fly again,” said Ari.

Friday said, “The ship at the far aft matches the configuration of the Storm-class cruiser that we found on the ‘net.”

“It sure does. Dana, bring us alongside.”

Dana guided the ship around to the aft until they were nose-to-nose with the cruiser. Through the window to its bridge, it was too dark to see anything.

“Switch to infrared,” said Dana.

The infrared overlay appeared on their screen. There was no one on the bridge.

Eva said, “It looks like there’s a sign on the back left wall. See if you can zoom in on that.”

Ari did so, revealing a metal sign written in Caracali. A split-second later, she pounded her fist on the console, and leapt to her feet.

“It’s the Tempest!”

A cheer went up from the crew. The humans hugged each other while Friday and Tycho did laps around their feet. Once the excitement had died down a bit, Eva spoke, wiping tears from her face.

“Let’s see if we can call their PDAs. Shall we start with John’s?”

Ari nodded, and sat down. “Sure.”

Over the next few minutes, Ari attempted to use VLF channels to reach everyone she knew had a PDA, with no success. After running several scans, she spoke again.

“No dice. There seems to be some kind of interference field set up around the Serpent. Our signals are bouncing back, slowed down and distorted. They’re not getting through.”

“What about a scientific PDA?” asked Eva. “Aren’t they set up to detect neutrinos?”

“Yes, but the user would have to be actively scanning for them. It’s worth a shot. I’ll send out a binary code. Hold on.”

Ari tapped the side of her console with growing frustration as her signal went unanswered.

“We’ll keep trying,” said Dana. “Other than that, our only options are to try VHF, UHF, and SRC frequencies, which will no doubt get the attention of their hosts, or pick an airlock and try to board surreptitiously.”

“In either case,” began Eva, “we should get the Antares here first. Scans of the four operational ships indicate powerful plasma weapons and ablative armor. If we announce our presence, and they’re hostile, and they can defeat our invisibility shield, we’re gonna have a bad time. If we board and we’re discovered, we’re going to need the Antares to provide a diversion while we get back to the Faith.”

“Or we wait eleven days for both of our ships to get here,” replied Dana.

Ari said, “We only just got here. Let’s be patient. Maybe someone will open the scanning program on the scientific PDA.”

“We should think about why the Serpent is dead in the water,” said Eva. “Based on how far we overshot them, the vessel just dropped out of FTL within the last few minutes. Something’s going on in there.”

“I’m not detecting any problems with their stardrives. They could have lost whatever synchronization is necessary to stay in FTL. Or another mechanical problem. Or, they could have detected us as we were overtaking them and stopped out of caution.”

“I don’t know, I don’t like it. The last thing we want to see is our friends ejected from an airlock while we’re sitting around.”

“Don’t say things like that!” shouted Friday.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“If only I still had my stealth ability,” said Ari. “I could easily snoop around in there.”

“Why not send me?” asked Friday.

“You can’t be serious,” replied Eva, “it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t think so. I scanned for small animals; there are a lot of them. Some of them must be pets or strays. I think I’ll blend right in.”

“No offense, but you’ll be practically defenseless. More importantly, you can’t carry or operate a PDA, and we have no way of knowing if we’ll be able to maintain an orb link with you once you board. If that link is severed, you’ll lose most of your cognitive ability.”

“Plus you won’t be able to unlock doors,” added Dana, “or even open unlocked doors.”

“I can do it,” said Tycho. “Or we can work together to reach the keypad.”

“A lone black cat is one thing, but a dog and a cat moving together would be more conspicuous.”

Ari said, “Here’s my proposal. It will take X amount of time (to be determined, because math is hard) for the Antares to get here. We’ll summon them, then continue to ping the scientific PDA while we wait. Then, if we still haven’t made contact, and nobody has a better idea, we’ll send in Friday and Tycho. They can at least explore the Tempest.”

“It’s still risky,” said Eva. “John and Ray will never forgive us if something happens to Friday and Tycho.”

Friday looked as serious as a cat possibly could. “After everything they’ve done for us, they would understand.”

Ari sighed. “All right, then. We have a plan.”

“There’s just one problem,” said Dana. “If we contact the Antares from too close to the Serpent, they might detect the transmission. So we’ll need to back off some distance; I’d say one light-year would be safe. That won’t take long, so I doubt we’ll lose track of it.”

“She’s right,” said Ari.

Eva stared at the Tempest, and the enormous main body of the Serpent that lay beyond it. “There’s something off about all of this, but I can’t put my finger on it. No matter what happens, I’d advise caution.”

Tycho said, “I’ve felt that way about squirrels, Eva. Those little guys are always up to something. You can’t let your guard down.”

Eva laughed. “Okay, buddy. Next time we encounter a squirrel, we’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

Spoiler alert: This is the first draft of the ninth book in the Reckless Faith series, now with the working title of The Path of Andromeda. You can start with the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

Author note: The last part of Chapter 7 has been edited to include a tidbit of information from the customs officer regarding the Flying Serpent. The crew of the Reckless Faith is now aware of its existence.

In a dark room on the Kestrel, Helena waited.

Strouth’s quarters were right off the bridge, in a room that had originally been meant as a captain’s office. While he still used it for that purpose, it was large enough to add a bed, so he had made it into his quarters as well. Since the Kestrel never strayed too far from the Serpent, he rarely had to worry about a situation on the bridge keeping him awake. Helen had never thought much about that, until it offered her an opportunity.

It hadn’t been difficult to get Strouth to invite her into his bed again, and there hadn’t been much conversation about their prior relationship first. If the man had any reservations about whether or not it was a good idea, he certainly hadn’t expressed them. For Helena, once the deed was done, all she had to do was wait.

After sleeping all day, there was no chance of her nodding off again. Fortunately for her, Strouth had passed out almost immediately. Still, she wanted to wait an hour or two to make sure she wouldn’t disturb him. The task reminded her of her rebellious teenage years on the Swan, when she would wait for her parents to go to bed before she sneaked out to meet friends. Then and now, seconds seemed like hours. As much as she tried to distract herself with inconsequential thoughts, the dangerousness of her mission weighed heavily on her mind.

After ninety minutes, Helena was as confident as she could be that Strouth was fast asleep. She got up, put on a t-shirt, grabbed her PDA, and crept to the exit. Luckily, the door was manually-operated, and she was able to pass through it without making a sound. She blinked at the bright light on the bridge, and immediately wished she had put on her boots, as the metal floor was freezing. The room was empty, as she was expecting at that time of night, and she made her way to the navigation console. There, she made a note of their coordinates, as well as the distance to Ibnal’saffar. Then, she crossed to the communications console.

She was not surprised to find it locked; however, the option to send a mayday was still available. Once on that screen, she had five options: all frequencies, SRC only, high-band only, low-band only, and cancel. She selected the last one and, to her delight, she had full access. She set her PDA on the console and prepared to send a text message to the frequency John had given her. When the program was ready, she composed her message.

Her heart leapt into her chest as Strouth emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes before noticing her.

“Helena? What are you doing out here?”

She threw him a quick smile, then hit the send button. “Am I bothering you? I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d find some entertainment on the ‘net for a while.”

“In your underwear? Aren’t you cold?”

She exited the comm program. “Nah, it’s fine in here. I’ve always had thicker blood than you anyway.”

“You’d be more comfortable in the lounge. Why don’t you go put your pants on and head down there?”

“I suppose you’re right. Care to join me for a cup of tea or something?”

“Sure. I’ll meet you back inside in a minute.”

Helena’s adrenaline began to flow. She returned to his quarters, picked her pants up off the floor, put them on, then donned her socks and boots. Though her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, she knew Strouth had a solid bronze statue of a kestrel on a shelf near the bathroom. She found her way there, and waited, her heart pounding. Strouth came back, and turned on the lights. He wore a dour expression.

“Back in my fleet days, treason was punishable by death.”

“I’ve taken no oaths to you, Jerrod.”

“I suppose not. Honestly, I’m more disappointed in you than I am angry. I thought I could trust you more than this.”

She sighed. “It seems it’s time I leveled with you. I’m determined to get to Ibnal’saffar by any means necessary. Since convincing you to bring me there has proved impossible, I decided to enlist some help. There’s a ship on the way to pick me up. If you ever had any real feelings for me, you’ll let me go.”

“Why? What do you expect to find down there?”

“It’s a long story; I won’t bore you with it.”

“Even if I had agreed to take you there, I wouldn’t have just left you there. The planet’s a wasteland.”

“That’s my problem to deal with. Now, are you going to stand aside?”

Strouth growled, “Or what? You’ll brain me with that statue? You can…”

The color drained out of Strouth’s face, and his jaw dropped. Helena picked up the kestrel.

“Don’t try me, Jerrod, you know how strong I am.”

“You’re the saboteur,” he said calmly.

“So what if I am? Let my ship pick me up, and you can make up whatever story you think will best calm the population. Hell, tell them you blew my head off, I don’t care.”

“It may come to that. You know I can’t let you leave. If you refuse to surrender, we might as well settle this now.”

Helena considered the man. Though she was indeed stronger than him, not by virtue of exercise but by genetics, Strouth doubtlessly had a lot more combat training than she. She felt bad; she admired his commitment to his ideals, but could never understand why a place as boring as the Serpent appealed to him. Perhaps some trauma that he never told her about lurked in his past, keeping him from the more adventurous life a ship like the Kestrel could offer. Strouth rarely talked about his time in the fleet. It was a shame what had to be done.

“Fine!”

She lunged at him, brandishing the statue above her head. He easily side-stepped the blow, and threw a punch. She blocked it with the statue, causing him to roar in pain. He stepped back, cradling his hand.

“Why?”

“This is about a higher power, higher than you, higher than the Order of Andromeda, and higher than me. I wish you could understand… I have no choice.”

Strouth stumbled back until his heels met the edge of the bed, sprawling him backwards onto the mattress. Helena moved quickly until she was straddling him, again raising the bronze kestrel above her head.

__________

On the cold surface of Caracal, Ari, Eva, and Dana were moving quickly. They’d just exited the main building at the port, and were jogging along the access road for the landing pads. They found an opportunity to sprint across, dodging a truck and a couple of forklifts as they ran. Arriving at the Reckless Faith, the cargo ramp began to lower, and the trio paused to wait. Then, they made their way through the ship and up to the top deck. When they burst onto the bridge, Friday, sitting in the pilot chair, was waiting for them. She meowed at them loudly as they caught their breath.

“I’m so excited I can barely contain myself!” she began. “Just wait until you read this message!”

A text message appeared on the main screen. It began with an encryption confirmation, the sender’s frequency, then read in block letters, IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE REQUIRED. DO NOT COME IN HOT. JS. Then, there were a set of coordinates.

“JS,” said Dana. “John Scherer?”

Ari said, “That encryption key is one of ours. It corresponds to the one we reserved for emergency broadcasts or messages.”

Eva sat down at one of the consoles. “Those coordinates are one hundred and seventy light-years from here, about halfway to Tengshe.”

“We found them!” said Friday, elated.

“Maybe,” said Ari. “Friday, was that message sent in English or another language?”

“The text portion was sent in Cygnian. There’s also some metadata embedded in the transmission, including the name of the vessel that sent it. The ‘Kestrel.’ I don’t like it, kestrels are annoying.”

“Interesting. So either the person who sent it is Cygnian, or the ship itself uses that language for the GUI.”

“It could be either,” said Dana. “So we can’t be sure whether or not the message was sent directly from John himself.”

“John would have signed it ‘Temerity’.”

“Probably, yes.”

Friday jumped from the chair onto the front console. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Eva said, “We need to be careful, Friday. It could be a trap. Which is why I don’t think we should try to hail the Kestrel. Let’s drop out of FTL a few thousand klicks away, and do some recon.”

“I agree,” said Ari.

Dana nodded. “Same. I’ll contact the Antares and the Fox and let them know where we’re going, but tell them to stay on course to Ibnal’saffar for now.”

“Fine. Unfortunately, if we realize we’re outmatched, we’re going to be stuck waiting twelve days for them to get here.”

“Ideally there won’t be a fight,” said Eva. “The universe owes us an easy one.”

Dana sat in the pilot chair. Ari sat at the console across from Eva. Friday headed for the door.

“I’m going to go get Tycho,” she said.

“Fine, but you two behave yourselves.”

The door opened for the cat, and she exited to the corridor. Dana rolled her chair forward, and grasped the flight controls.

“All systems are in the green,” said Ari.

Dana brought the ship into the air, earning an angry admonition from ground control. It didn’t take long to break atmo, and she guided the ship away from the planet and the mess of ships and satellites that were in orbit. Friday returned with Tycho, and the two of them talked to each other excitedly until Eva told them to keep it down. When Dana was sure they were clear of other traffic, she active the FTL drive.

“All right,” said Dana, locking down the autopilot, “It’ll take us 59 minutes to get to those coordinates. We’ll plan on dropping out five klicks from the target.”

“Aw, man,” said Friday. “We have to wait an hour?”

“You know what our top speed is, Friday.”

“Yeah, but I hadn’t done the math yet. Oh, well. I guess another hour is okay.”

“In the meantime, Ari, if you can take over for me, I wouldn’t mind grabbing some lunch.”

“I want lunch,” said Tycho.

“I’m sure you do,” replied Eva. “C’mon, then.”

“I’ll stay here with Ari,” said Friday.

Eva, Dana, and Tycho exited to the hallway, then descended the stairs to the galley. They moved to the fridge and looked inside.

“Tycho, what do you want?” asked Eva.

“Ground beef!” came the reply.

Eva peered further into the fridge. “That’s it? Just a bowl of ground beef? I’m not sure we have that.”

“You can’t just give him whatever he wants,” said Dana. “Not unless you want to clean it up off the floor later. Tycho, you can have either kibble or boiled chicken.”

“Both!” he said.

She retrieved a container of chicken, then grabbed a bag of dry food from a nearby cabinet. Once she’d put it together and offered it to Tycho, she and Eva made their own selections. They sat down at the table in the center of the room.

“He always asks for different things, but then accepts one or both of what I gave him.”

Eva smiled. “It’s always been difficult trying to figure out what cats and dogs are actually thinking, even with the ability to talk to them. Friday and Esmee are exceptional, though, comparatively speaking.”

“Are they still doing research on dogs?”

“As far as I know. If we ever figure out how to get them to operate autonomously, then there are some obvious applications for thinking dogs in the field.”

Tycho devoured his food, then ran back upstairs. Dana and Eva smiled.

“As long as they can think about something other than food.”

Eva poked at her container of pasta marinara with her fork. “I hate to sound gloomy, but have you thought about how Friday and Tycho will deal with it if John or Ray has been killed?”

Dana shook her head. “I’d rather not think about that at all. But it is something to worry about. Tycho has expressed sadness over Christie being gone. Though he takes some solace in knowing she’s still alive, I didn’t try to explain the nuance of her current form. He doesn’t understand why she won’t rejoin the crew. It kinda breaks my heart.”

“I know. The other factor to consider is that we can bring back to life anyone who has had direct contact with an orb, minus any memories since that time. Do you know what instructions, if any, our friends have given us about that?”

Dana pushed her food aside. “Do you mean like a Last Will and Testament? Yes, everyone on the Reckless Faith has documented what we want to happen in the event of our deaths. Though I don’t know what anyone else has ultimately decided, it has been an occasional topic of conversation on board ever since we discovered the possibility of reincarnation via an android body. I can tell you for sure that Ari doesn’t regret it; as far as Faen and Fuyue, I haven’t talked to them about it. I’ve decided to go for it, but the possibility that my original soul will simply cease to exist is still terrifying.”

“I hear you on that. I’m in the same boat. That shit will keep you up at night if you don’t push it to the back of your mind.”

“Hopefully neither of us will have to worry about it for a few more decades. As for Friday, I don’t think it would be productive to talk to her about it until the time comes. God forbid.”

Eva mumbled around her food. “I wonder if she ever wishes she was back to being a normal cat.”

“That, you can ask her about. C’mon, let’s finish up and get back to the bridge.”

Spoiler alert: This is the first draft of the ninth book in the Reckless Faith series, now with the working title of The Path of Andromeda. You can start with the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

Three hours had passed since John launched into a summary of all of the Reckless Faith’s adventures up until that day. After an hour, the rest of their team, except for Malthus, had been summoned to Helena’s bar and, with the others helping out John after his voice became hoarse, Helena had listened to their story. After everyone had gathered, she brought out several bowls of snacks, and brewed a pot of yellowish liquid that allegedly contained something like caffeine. She had listened intently, mostly in shock, but also with heavy tears anytime the Kira’To were mentioned. Kyrie, who was currently speaking, continued the narrative.

“After our reunion with Malthus,” he was saying, “we explored the temple. It was almost completely empty, save for a working fountain at its center, topped by a statue of a Kira’To.”

Helena jerked forward in her chair, and pounded the table with her fist. “I knew it! God damn it, I knew it. We have to go there, Mister Devonai. All of us.”

“I know,” said Vecky. “In addition to the temple, we found evidence of a nuclear strike on the surface. Something very bad happened there, a long time ago, and we intend to try to find out what.”

“I guess I can sum it up from there,” began John. “When we came down from the mountain, we explored as much of the surrounding area as possible, living off the land and our meager supplies. After six weeks, the Kestrel found us, and brought us here. You already know the rest.”

Helena leaned back in her chair, and let out a long breath. “It’s no coincidence you were brought here. Whatever secrets are hiding on that planet, all of us were meant to find them. Now that you know that Strouth has a working transceiver, what do you intend to do about it?”

John shrugged. “Nothing? We’re guests here, and we’ve been extended a lot of trust by Strouth and the other captains. They let us keep our sidearms, for example, and we’re not restricted from roaming around.”

“It is frustrating,” said Ray. “We don’t want to wait weeks just to be able to make a radio call, especially when our ship could be here in a matter of hours. But we need to play by their rules.”

Helena crossed her arms. “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to wait it out?”

“It’s the path of least resistance,” said Kyrie.

“I’ll tell you what. Give me the transponder code for the Reckless Faith. I’ll see if I can sweet-talk my way onto the Kestrel. Maybe, if I can get a minute alone on the bridge, I can contact your ship for you.”

Cane said, “Do you think Strouth would be open to resuming your relationship?”

“I know he is.”

“Then I think your best bet is to…”

Helena cut him off. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“Can you give as a few minutes to talk about it?” asked John.

“Of course.”

 Helena took a swig from her mug, stood up, and went into her office. Richter scanned the room with his PDA.

“No cameras, no microphones,” he said.

“Good,” said John. “Okay, gang, what do you think?”

Vecky said, “I don’t trust her. There was something off about the way she talked about her alleged encounters with Andromeda. But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Trust is going to be impossible, knowing she was the saboteur,” replied Kyrie.

“I agree,” said Richter. “She’s not stable. Even if her plan succeeds, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to take her with us.”

“You mean back to Ibnal’saffar?” asked Ray.

“Yes.”

“I think it’s the compassionate thing to do. If she does summon the Faith, and we leave without her, she’s going to completely lose her mind. We can easily keep her monitored while she’s on board.”

“Compassionate for who, Helena, or the residents of the Serpent?”

“Both. She already tried to scuttle this entire place once, who knows what she’d try next?”

John said, “Ray is right. Sneaking around is impossible on the Faith, and considering that she’s doing just fine running this bar, I think she’s of sound enough mind not to stab any of us in the back at the same time that we’re giving her exactly what she’s wanted for months.”

“What about giving her the transponder code?” asked Cane. “I don’t have any objections to that, because I can’t think of anything misleading she could say.”

“I agree,” replied Vecky. “Our friends aren’t fools. Even if what she says is bullshit or gibberish, they should still be able to use MLAT to determine the origin point, depending on how many SRC transponders are in this region of space.”

“Use what now?”

“If you were a ship captain, you’d know.”

Cane smiled. “You’ve been a useful taxicab driver for sure, Captain Kitsune.”

“Vecky is right,” said John. “Regardless of what she says in the message, it may prove useful to them. If there are no other objections, we’ll agree to her plan.”

There were none, so John got up and knocked on the office door. Helena emerged, holding yet another box of tissues. She followed John back to the table.

“We agree to your plan,” he began, “but only if you can do it without any undue risk to yourself. If that means it takes you a few days to find the right opportunity, then so be it.”

“That sounds reasonable,” replied Helena.

“Here.”

John pulled out his PDA, and pressed a few buttons. He showed the screen to her, and she copied the information onto her own device. Her exhaustion apparently catching up to her, Helena spoke with an unsteady voice.

“As you can probably guess, I’m not opening Nepenthe today. After I’ve had several hours of sleep, I’ll tidy myself up and go talk to Strouth. If I’m successful, then other than our coordinates, is there anything else you want me to tell your ship?”

“Just that we’re all okay, and eager to reunite.”

“Then we have a plan.” She gestured toward the door. “I’ll see you all out.”

The group got up, and headed out onto the concourse. John turned back toward Helena.

“Remember, don’t take any chances.”

“For the first time in months, I have hope. I’ll hold on to that feeling. Thank you.”

__________

The Reckless Faith had arrived at the heliopause of the Gamma Andromedae system, or Almach, the name of its star, also known as Caracal, the Desert Fox, in the language of the Ancients. The crew was eager to proceed to the planet they knew awaited them, but first, standard operating procedure required them to scan the system. For the results, they looked to Friday.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she was saying. “Almach is a K2 spectral type, almost but not quite a supergiant, and the primary star of an interesting one-and-three quadruple system. Bottom line up front, scans indicate that there are no habitable planets here. We’ve got nothing but gas giants and barren rocks and moons. There’s zilch for radio signals, either traditionally broadcast or the SRC network.”

Ari peered at her screen. “I can confirm that info. It’s possible one of the other three stars is the one we really want. I suggest we do a quick sweep of the system anyway, with a focus on the Goldilocks zone. After that, we move onto the triple system that orbits Almach. Caracal’s gotta be around one of them.”

Dana nodded. “Thankfully, we’re in the right sort of ship for this kind of recon. Let’s get it done.”

Over the next half-hour, the Faith visited each of the planets in the system in turn. Though the gas giants offered spectacular vistas, there was nothing else to find. It wasn’t until they reached the first terrestrial planet, the third from the star at a distance of 5 AU, that something interesting presented itself. From a high equatorial orbit, they scanned its mottled gray surface.

“I’m reading a large complex down there,” began Ari. “There are at least a dozen buildings, some larger, scaffolding-like structures, and underground areas. There are no life signs, and the only energy signatures are from an off-site deposit of strontium-90, cesium-137, samarium-151, and rubidium-85.

Dana said, “That combination corresponds to the type of radioactive waste one would expect from a fission reactor. The presence of rubidium-85 suggests that another expected decay product, krypton-85, was also there. That indicates that the last fission activity was at least thirty years ago.”

“The scaffolding strongly resembles the shipyard we saw at Anachronia VI,” said Friday.

“Good catch,” said Eva. “It seems we’ve found the Alpha Shipyard mentioned on the Tempest’s commissioning plaque.”

“With a mass of zero-point-three ME, this planet would be a great place from which to launch ships.”

“Your deductive reasoning continues to improve. Good job, Friday.”

Friday purred, which was translated verbally as “Prideful satisfaction.”

Ari said, “So this place was abandoned some decades ago, for reasons unknown. That only proves we’re on the right track.”

“What’s the next best candidate?” asked Eva.

“Gamma Andromedae C, a young, blue, A-type main sequence star. Transit time at top speed is several minutes.”

“All right, let’s head out, unless anyone wants to explore the facility here.”

“There might be something valuable down there, but it’s not a priority. Let’s move on.”

A few minutes later, at 100 AU from the next star, they again scanned the system.

“Now we’re talking,” said Dana. “This system is rife with activity. I’m getting a nice, strong signal from an SRC transponder at 5 AU with a public channel. The main population center is the fourth planet, at one-point-five AU, and is indeed called Caracal.”

“Hopefully someone there knows the Tempest’s last location,” said Ari. “Let’s head in.”

“Hold on,” said Eva. “Dana, check to see if there’s a bounty board.”

“Good call.”

Dana worked at her console for a couple of minutes. “Yes, but it requires a registration number from one of several bounty hunter organizations. Eva, you wouldn’t happen to know Talyn’s, would you?”

Eva nodded, and pulled out her PDA. ‘I do. Cane gave it to me recently for just such a time. Here, I’ll transmit it to the Faith.”

“He wouldn’t give you his own info?” asked Ari.

“After what happened on Matesia, he may have a bounty of his own to worry about. As far as both of us knew, Talyn wasn’t in trouble with anybody.”

“The registration worked,” said Dana. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to enter any search terms, so I suggest Ari or Friday review these postings.”

“I got it,” said Friday. “Out of one hundred and fifty-two jobs, there’s no mention of the Reckless Faith, Umber, or Terra.”

“Search for all of our allies, too.”

“There’s an Eniphite with a price on his head. The Black Crest is looking for him. There’s also a persona non grata warning about the Rastaban and its crew. No explanation why. That’s it.”

“Okay, so we don’t mention either of those to anybody while we’re here, along with our normal level of discretion.”

Ari said, “Got it. All right, let’s head in.”

Dana pushed the throttle forward, and within seconds the Faith arrived at a point a few thousand kilometers from Caracal. The planet was typical blue-green world, with a thick network of satellites ringing it at all latitudes. As they drew closer, they could easily see one or two megacities on each continent. Ship traffic was heavy, both inbound and outbound, and Dana followed a series of small transponders until they were in a holding pattern just above the Kármán line. Seconds after they fell in line behind several other ships, a freighter of unknown design settled in behind them. Their consoles beeped, indicating an incoming transmission, text only.

“Orbital control is asking us for a ship registration or origin point,” began Dana, “the nature of our visit, our destination, and duration of visit. I’m going to say that we’re Perditian traders of precious metals, headed to the appropriate marketplace, for five days.”

“Sounds good,” said Ari.

“We’re being directed to Oasis City, the largest development on the southeast continent. Altitude is twenty-five hundred meters. I hope you’ve all been working on your cardio.”

Fifteen minutes later, the Faith was cleared to push down to the surface. Dana headed directly to the coordinates that had been provided, except to mostly bypass a hurricane off the nearest coast, and drew within five thousand feet of the city. The city was at the center of a high desert plain, surrounded on three sides by rugged mountains. Sprawling itself across fifteen thousand square kilometers, the city was a sight to see, even after all of their adventures. The landing pad was at the edge of a rather dystopian industrial area; what looked like oil refineries belched black smoke into the air, and hundreds of large, blocky freighters waited along its periphery to pick up whatever cargo had been forced from the planet’s subterranean deposits. If there was a center of commerce somewhere within that concrete and metal mess, it wasn’t obvious from the air.

After setting the Faith down gently on the tarmac, and locking down the flight controls, Dana stood up and stretched out her arms. Ari and Eva looked out at what they could see through the windows.

“Where the hell are we supposed to go from here?” asked Ari. “There’s nothing out there but forklifts and yard goats.”

“I guess we’ll just have to disembark and try to make contact with a dock foreman,” said Eva. “Was there anything about permissible weapons?”

“Nothing that was in anything we’ve received so far,” replied Dana.

“Let’s play it safe, then. Projectile pistols only. Friday, first sign of trouble, you đi đi mạo, break atmo, and wait for further instructions.”

“Understood,” said Friday. “Ambient temperature is two degrees C. Dress warmly.”

Evangeline already had her Beretta PX4, and Ari her Glock 17, but they had to stop by the armory on the way out so that Dana could retrieve a Beretta 92 and a couple of spare magazines. Then, they grabbed their favorite cold weather clothing.

“It’s been a while since I was in the field,” said Dana, holstering her pistol.

Eva donned a shoulder bag containing a full medical kit. “You’ll be fine. Follow our lead. Ferro, I’ve got two kilograms of gold, how about you?”

Ari said, “Five hundred grams, plus the same in palladium.”

“That should be enough to grease some palms.”

After distributing portable radios, and doing a comm check, the three women were ready to go. Descending to the cargo bay, Eva hit the controls to open the ramp. Fresh, frigid air rushed in to greet them, and they walked out onto the tarmac. The sun had just set behind the western ridgeline, casting hues of purple overhead. Though there was no shortage of local humanoids, they all ignored them, instead concentrating on dealing with several freighters that had arrived ahead of the Faith.

“Over there,” said Dana, pointing ahead. “That looks like an information kiosk.”

At the edge of the pad, next to a busy road, was a squat box with a console on top. The team approached it, steeling themselves against the cold. Ari poked at the console for a few moments.

“Okay,” she began, “this is the same language that I downloaded earlier. We’re definitely in the right place. Where do you want to start?”

“Look for something like customs declarations,” replied Eva.

“Got it. The customs office for this port is in the next building over. Follow me.”

The group walked down the side of the road, pausing as needed to allow trucks to cross in front of them, then arrived at an elevated walkway. On the other side, they made their way into a massive five-story building of concrete and steel. A security checkpoint lay ahead, which included what looked like archway magnetometers. The guards, both with bronze skin and golden eyes, beckoned them ahead.

“I guess we’re about to find out what their weapons policy is,” said Dana.

“I’ll go first,” said Ari, stepping forward.

The first guard read off what he could see at his station. “Permissible projectile weapon, electronics, precious metals, no pathogens, full android composition. Wow, I never would have guessed.”

“You should see me with my clothes off. Are we good?”

“Certainly. Next?”

Eva walked through the scanner. “My clothes are definitely staying on.”

“She’s clean. Unknown genetic makeup. Your initial registration listed you as from Perditia; where is that exactly?”

“It’s in the Greater Luminous Sea, some 160,000 light-years from here. We’ve been in the core galaxy for quite some time.”

“You must have a fast ship, unless you’re far older than you appear.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet? I’m keeping my clothes on, though.”

Dana went next, with the same results. Once cleared, Ari asked for directions to the customs office, which was given. The trio continued on their way. They passed by a flurry of activity, including a collection of crates containing noisy, feathery livestock that was being cleared for entry. Down a long, nondescript corridor, they found two offices, one for inbound cargo, and one for outbound. Ari led them into the latter. Another bronze-skinned humanoid male awaited them in the cramped space, wearing a blue jumpsuit and a nametag in Caracali. A wall-mounted screen was displaying a program that seemed to be related to finance. He looked at them with an exhausted expression.

“Vessel name?”

Ari said, “Actually, we’ve just arrived. What we would really like to know is the location of a freighter called the Tempest, commissioned out of Alpha Shipyards.”

The man managed to make his eyes look even more tired than before. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Miss Spencer?”

Eva withdrew a handful of gold ingots, and placed them on the counter. The man scanned them with a hand-held device.

“Someone on the Tempest must owe you a lot of money.”

“Can you help us?”

“Put your coin back in your pocket.” He accessed the console on his desk. “According to our database, the Tempest was a regular visitor here until ten years ago, at which time it was sold for scrap. Odd for a ship that was only thirty years old; they must have beat the shit out of it.”

Eva retrieved the gold. “Can you tell us who bought it?”

“An auction house. You’ll have to ask them where it ended up.”

Dana sighed. “And the name of the auction house?”

“To submit a title transfer request is one hundred credits, and takes two to four weeks for processing.”

“Can you at least provide us with a list of auction houses on Caracal?” asked Ari.

“On the whole planet? Probably hundreds. Anyway, any public terminal could give you that information.”

“Great. Okay, thanks. Dana, Eva, shall we go?”

“Don’t forget to dispose of your trash before you go. Please.”

Eva noticed a wastebasket by the door, and dropped three bars of gold into it before she and the others returned to the corridor.

“Shit,” she spat. “That was a waste of time and money.”

Dana said, “We could find a public terminal, like the guy suggested, and see if Ari, or Friday remotely, can hack it.”

“That’s a tall order, even for us,” replied Ari. “I mean, we could try, but I’d have to stand in front of a terminal for an hour or two. I guess if an internet café, or something like it, even exists on this world, then it wouldn’t seem suspicious. I dunno. Thoughts?”

“Fine with me,” replied Eva. “It looks like there’s a food court or something further down.”

“Let’s check it out,” said Dana. “It’s about our lunchtime, anyway.”

Spoiler alert: This is the first draft of the ninth book in the Reckless Faith series, now with the working title of The Path of Andromeda. You can start with the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

“I think you could’ve worded that better, Vecky.”

Richter coolly assessed the situation at the table in the bar. Helena had a firm grasp on her pistol, some sort of projectile weapon, but had it cocked to her side, the barrel just above the surface of the table. Though her demeanor was stern, she clearly wanted to keep talking. John’s hands were on his enormous mug of beer, and Vecky’s were by her side. His own right hand was on the grip of his 1911, out of Helena’s line of sight, but she had to know what he was doing. Though he could draw and take a shot under the table, there was no way he could beat Helena. However, there was also no way she could take out all three of them. It was clearly a stalemate.

Vecky responded to John’s statement, keeping her eyes on the older woman. “There’s no way to mince word about this part, John. Yes, Helena, I fell in with the Cygnian Liberation Front. But I assure you, that was by chance, as the ship I was on was experiencing mechanical problems and had no choice but to land on Leda rather than Dellal. If not for that, I might have never heard of the CLF. Before we could move on from there, I began to receive messages from Aquila, in the form of powerful visions. Aquila wanted revenge on Cygnus, for reasons that were never made clear to me. But after my experiences on the Eagle, I couldn’t ignore him. His goals aligned with those of the CLF, so I took up their cause.”

Helena took a deep breath, but her aim remained steady. “Okay. What exactly did you do for them?”

“Mostly logistics support. Though I wanted to visit the Swan, I didn’t get a chance to do so until after combat operations had ceased. Come on, look at me. Do I really look like someone suited for the back of a dropship, ready to come out blasting?”

Helena stared at her for a long time. “Fine. Except I find it hard to believe that Aquila would bother making a personal connection with you in order to get you to fly around in a cargo ship. Especially not someone born on the Eagle. Doubly so after the formation of an entire cult dedicated to Aquila.”

“Oh, he wanted me to be more directly involved. Before I found out about the Adherents of Aquila, he made it out like I was going to be some kind of epic savior. That might have worked on me, except that my father had just become leader of the entire Eagle asteroid. If destiny is real, wouldn’t I be meant to be there with him? I decided to compromise: I’d help the CLF battle the SCC in space, but I refused to set foot on the Swan. This seemed to mollify Aquila and, after Cygnus was killed, I never heard from him again.”

Helena began to cry. “They play games with us. You and me both. They’re monsters.”

“I take it you had a bad experience, too?” asked John.

She put her pistol down on the table. “Cygnus pretended to be my friend. I thought I was special. Only the Chief Acolyte was supposed to talk to him. Though his death was ultimately welcome to me, the way it happened was tragic. The civilization of the Swan deserved better, and the CLF and their cultist friends had no right to interfere in our way of life.”

Vecky nodded. “I’m sorry, too. I’ll be happy if I life the rest of my life and never hear another whisper across the ether from a Kira’To.”

Helena produced a handkerchief, and wiped her face. “I wish I could say the same.”

John said, “Wait, you mean…”

“Are you sure you want to tell us this?” asked Vecky. “You hardly know us.”

“Do you trust these men?” asked Helena.

“John and Chance? With my life.”

Helena stood up, holstered her pistol, and crossed to the nearest window. “Not long after I arrived on Kuisu, I was contacted by a Kira’To who calls himself Andromeda. At first his messages were very cryptic, same as Cygnus at the beginning. As my visions, or whatever you want to call them, became more frequent, I learned how to better communicate with him. The messages were always the same, though. As a child of the Swan, as he called me, he said it was my fate to go to Ibnal’saffar.”

“The cursed planet?” asked John. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. Something about the secrets of the Kira’To. He was never very clear about that. Still, he was so persistent, I came to believe that the only way I could ever get him to leave me alone was to do as he said. The problem was just as you said: Ibnal’saffar is supposedly cursed. I couldn’t find any ships for hire on Kuisu that would take me there. I was running out of money and couldn’t afford to travel back to Dellal or even a closer planet. That’s when I discovered that the Flying Serpent was in orbit, and that its loop around this constellation brought it quite near Ibnal’saffar. I joined the Order of Andromeda, and off we went.”

“How long ago was that?” asked Richter.

“About a year. And I know you’re going to ask, but no, the Order of Andromeda doesn’t have anything to do with the Kira’To that I’m in contact with. I was a little disappointed to find that out. Anyway, I earned a stipend with the Order, and after I quit, I decided to gamble it all away. Instead, I won enough money to buy this bar. Funny how that works.”

John shrugged. “What the heck were you going to do if you lost all your money?”

“That would have been the end of the line for me. It became clear over time that none of the captains of the four working ships would bring me to Ibnal’saffar, even after I started dating Captain Strouthionum. I couldn’t convince him. I had to do something…”

Richter said, “Again, are you sure you want to tell us this?”

Helena returned to the table and leaned over, putting her hands flat on the surface. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she began to cry again.

“Andromeda won’t leave me alone! Every night, without fail, he shows up in my dreams, even if I scream at him to leave me in peace! Hell, even a catnap isn’t safe for me. I had to get down to that planet! By any means necessary.”

“What then,” began John. “Strouth wouldn’t take you with him on those water resupply runs? Why did you think this time would be any different?”

Helena sank into her chair, defeated. “You don’t understand. The charges that damaged the water tanks were only the ones that successfully detonated. There were more, though I’ve since removed them. My plan was to permanently disable the Serpent, and force an evacuation to Ibnal’saffar. Curse or no curse.”

“You’re taking a huge risk telling us all of this,” said Vecky. “Why shouldn’t we turn you in?”

“When I was dating Strouth, I had plenty of unrestricted access to the Kestrel. Stealing it would have been my first plan, but I couldn’t do it alone. You’re the only one on this entire contraption that I know will help me. With you and your team, we might actually have a chance.”

“Why would we help you do that?” asked John.

“Because I know you’ve been trying to gain access to a SRC transceiver. There’s nothing wrong with the one on the Kestrel. Strouth has been lying to you to protect the integrity of the Serpent.”

“We suspected as much,” said Richter.

“The only question left, then, is why you’ve been pushing so hard to get to one. You wanted to be here, right? You knew how long it would take to get to Tengshe. You must have agreed to the rules before you boarded.”

Richter looked at John and Vecky. They nodded to each other. John spoke next.

“I think it’s time you knew the whole truth, Helena.”

__________

In a busy restaurant in the City of the Eagle, a joyful reunion was occurring between the crews of the Faith, the Fox, and the Antares, the last of which had recently arrived. By now used to diverse visitors, the locals paid the spacefarers little heed as they ate, drank, and got caught up. Only Evangeline caught any extra attention being, of course, a bona fide hero on the Eagle. Each of them were able to enjoy themselves for the moment, though both the events on Tartarus and the upcoming mission were never far from anyone’s mind.

Though the crew of the Antares treated Fuyue no differently than before, Eva knew it must have been difficult for them to accept their Sortarii mentor in his new form, just as it must have been difficult for him to pretend that everything would proceed as normal. The reality of the situation could certainly wait until they’d returned to their ship, as the trip to Ibnal’saffar would take twelve days.

Also present in the group were three Eaglites who had been recruited to help man the Fox, including Ikari, a man Eva considered a good friend. She was grateful he’d been tasked with the trip and, since Milena was going to be in command of the Fox, she wouldn’t have to worry about micromanaging her new subordinates.

That left the crew of the Faith a little light, but Ari, Dana, Eva, and Friday were more than capable of managing it, as long as they didn’t get into a nasty, protracted brawl. For now, with the three ships due to leave first thing in the morning, everyone could relax.

After a couple of hours, Eva felt compelled to look at the door, and was surprised to see Maoko standing there. Eva excused herself from the table and weaved her way through the restaurant until she got there.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. “Did you decide to join us?”

“No,” replied Maoko. “I have another drawing for you. I’m afraid it isn’t of much use to me, but I thought you’d like to see it.”

The older woman handed Eva a large sheet of paper. On it was rendered a metallic plaque, with block letters written in a language unknown to her.

“Curious. I’m guessing you don’t know what it says, either.”

“I do not.”

Eva pulled out her PDA. “Fortunately, I have just the feline to help. If you don’t mind…”

“Of course, please.”

Maoko held up the drawing, and Eva took a picture. She opened a channel to the Faith.

“Friday, it’s Eva. I’m going to send you a file, I was hoping you could translate the writing on it for me.”

Friday’s voice could be heard. “Ready to receive.”

Eva sent the file. Maoko rolled up the sheet and tucked it under her arm.

“Are you leaving soon?” she asked.

“First thing in the morning. We’re all very eager to get going, but the crew of the Antares hasn’t slept in sixteen hours.”

“It’s okay. I know you’ll find her.”

“I have some results for you,” said Friday.

“We’re listening,” said Eva.

“The language is Caracali, from a planet in orbit around Alnach, a star not far from Ibnal’saffar. It’s a commissioning plaque, for a ship named the Tempest, launched from Caracal in a year number that probably corresponds to that planet’s calendar. I don’t know how long ago it was. Then the name of the shipyard. That’s it.”

“All right, thank you, Friday. We’ll see you soon.” Eva put her PDA away. “Interesting. So Vecky is on, or recently had access to, a ship. I’ll let the others know.”

Maoko asked, “So will you be heading to Alnach instead of Ibnal’saffar?”

“Well, that ship could be anywhere. We shouldn’t second-guess our first plan.”

“That makes sense. Whatever you decide to do, my heart will be with you.”

“I know. Thank you, Maoko. We will bring your daughter back to you.”

The women hugged, and Maoko exited back to the street. Eva returned to her group, and got the attention of Ari, Dana, Milena, and Lesath. They got up and joined Eva on the street. As usual, the City of the Eagle was resplendent at night; calm, quiet, and beautiful. There was nobody standing or walking nearby, so conversation was easy. Eva told the others what she had just learned.

“So now we have two locations to investigate,” said Dana.

“Do you want to split up?” asked Lesath.

“That ship could be anywhere,” said Eva.

Ari’s eyes seemed to lose focus, then she looked at the others. “The Reckless Faith or the Antares could get to Caracal in less than three hours. If our people aren’t on Inbnal’saffar anymore, and someone on Caracal knows where the Tempest is, then we’ll already have our next plan. Then we rendezvous and carry on.”

“That makes sense,” said Milena. “Still, one of you is stuck tagging along with the slowpoke of the group.”

“So do you want to flip a coin, or what?” asked Lesath.

Eva said, “The Antares has better medical facilities than the Faith. It would make more sense for you to go to Ibnal’saffar. The Faith will go to Caracal; we’ll just keep a low profile. Unless anybody has any objections.”

“Great,” began Ari, “we’ll go first thing in the morning. Let’s get back inside and let everybody else know.”

_____

Ten hours later, after two more hours at the restaurant and a full night’s sleep, the crews and their three ships were in orbit around the Eagle. That morning had been busier than usual for everyone, but especially for the crew of the Reckless Faith. Up until then, the Faith had spent most of its time in the Eagle’s main hangar; though the crew had been offered lodging elsewhere on the asteroid, they chose to remain on the ship. Despite that, they hadn’t done shakedowns on their weapons systems or activated their FTL drive in over six weeks. While Friday or Ari could easily confirm that the systems were configured correctly, and ready to rock, the only way to know for sure was with hands-on functions checks, live-fire testing, and a quick trip somewhere in FTL. So, after breakfast, they got their hands greasy, then travelled to the system’s asteroid belt to beat up on some defenseless rocks. Next, they went balls-to-the-wall to the heliopause of the solar system and back. Throughout it all, the Faith had purred like a kitten.

On the bridge, Eva and Ari were at their stations, Dana sat in the pilot chair, and Friday sat on a console next to Ari. Tycho napped next to Eva. They were waiting for final confirmations from the Fox and the Antares, and then they would be on their way. The mood on board was upbeat, and everyone but Eva was openly excited about finally having a plan of action after so much sitting around. With a few minutes to spare, Ari decided to ask her about it.

“You seem a little off today,” she began. “Is everything okay?”

Eva sighed, and smiled. “I’m fine. I just find myself overly worried about what, if anything, we’re going to find. After all, we only have confirmation that Vecky is still alive. I can’t help but mull over worst-case scenarios.”

“I know how you feel. Kheiron could have saved just her, for example, or scattered our friends across the galaxy for some reason. I think the worst part is that everyone else could have been killed on Tartarus, and we’ll never know. This uncertainty would keep me up at night, if I still needed to sleep.”

Friday said, “I know John is alive, I can just feel it.”

A beeping sound alerted Eva to her console. “Heads up, a ship is approaching. It looks like an… Umberian Mark Fourteen?”

“Like the one Thel Maktar used to go to Earth?” asked Dana.

“It’s transmitting an IFF code. It is the one Maktar used. They’re hailing us.”

Ari said, “Open a channel, and tie in the other ships.”

“Got it,” replied Friday.

A familiar face appeared on the screen. An Umberian man with gray hair, a goatee, and a faded green military jacket could be seen in the cockpit of the fighter craft. Friday leapt onto the deck, jumped on the port side consoles, ran along their length, then did the same on the starboard side, maniacally shouting as she did.

“It’s Seth! It’s Seth! It’s Seth!”

The man laughed. “It’s good to see you, too Friday.”

“Aldebaran,” began Ari. “Never in a thousand years would I have expected to see you out here.”

“Especially not in that old thing,” said Eva. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I thought you retired from spacefaring,” said Dana.

Aldebaran nodded. “I had, but I continued to receive care for my injuries over the years. Eventually I felt healthy enough to start thinking about returning to the stars. As for this ship, I simply asked NASA if I could work on it myself and restore it to its former glory. They said yes. When Christie told me about your current situation, I asked her to help me get it out of the hangar unnoticed so I could come help. She did. As for the FTL drive, it was fully functional the whole time. I told NASA it had been exhausted of fuel in case I ever needed it. So here I am.”

Dana laughed. “So you lied to them. That’s incredible. Are you sure you’re up to the rigors of space combat, though?”

“You bet I am.”

“What’s her name?” asked Ari. “What’s she got for armaments?”

“Neither of the plasma cannons were working, so NASA cannibalized their neptunium. They’ve been replaced with twin GAU-12 twenty-five-millimeter rotary cannons, with eighteen-hundred rounds each, sort of a scaled-down version of your own GAU-8. For defense, it’s got the same energy-dissipation hull as the Reckless Faith, though the powerplant can’t handle overloads as effectively, so it can’t take the same kind of beating. I christened her the Sagitta.”

“That seems fitting,” said Dana. “Well, it’s good to see you again, and I’m glad we have one more ship to help us search for our friends. Captain Lesath, are you listening?”

“I’m here,” said Lesath’s voice.

“Since I assume Aldebaran doesn’t want to spend this whole trip confined to the cockpit of the Sagitta, and the Antares is the only ship that can fit it in its cargo bay, would you be okay with Aldebaran joining your crew?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s always good to meet new people. I’ve read a little bit about your history, Mister Aldebaran. I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“I agree,” replied Aldebaran. “And yes, I’d rather have a berth on a ship. Thank you for offering. I look forward to meeting you and your crew.”

“Good,” said Ari. “We’ll get you situated and caught up on our missions. After that, we’ll be on our way.”

Friday returned to her original spot, and said, “Wait, we’re not having a reunion first? Surely we have time for that.”

“You need to focus,” said Eva. “Let’s get our asses to Caracal.”

Spoiler alert: This is the first draft of the ninth book in the Reckless Faith series. You can start with the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

The conference room on the Kestrel was crammed to capacity with people. Captain Strouth was there, along with Madet, and a few others from his crew. Also present were John, Ray, Richter, and Vecky. Lastly, Malthus sat at the conference table, nursing a glass of brown liquor and holding a cold pack to his face. Strouth and his crew had barely separated him from the mob before they tore him to pieces, but other than a black eye and a few abrasions, he was unharmed. The captains of the other three functional ships had been summoned, as well as the rest of John’s contingent, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Once Malthus had stopped trembling, Strouth spoke to him.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” replied Malthus, shaking his head. “I was just sitting in a sandwich shop having some dinner. Some guys were in there, giving me some serious side-eye, and talking to each other in low tones. The next thing I knew, they’d grabbed me and hauled me out to the concourse, screaming about how they’d found the saboteur and threatening to toss me out of an airlock. Thankfully, as people gathered to see what was happening, a few with cooler heads were able to convince the instigators to have me brought here instead.”

“And you didn’t do anything to set them off?” asked John.

“I hadn’t uttered a word the entire time.”

Captains Shijiu, Alrisha, and Riel entered, along with Cane and Kyrie, further cramping the room. Strouth brought them up to speed on the situation.

“The rumor mill is out of control,” began Madet. “Every day I hear crazier and crazier shit on the concourse.”

Strouth nodded. “I don’t need to tell everyone that this situation threatens to destroy one hundred years of peace on the Serpent. We’re going to have to get more aggressive with our investigation.”

Alrisha said, “How? Our power has limits.”

“I’m confused,” began John. “The four of you are in charge here, right?”

“We’ve an advisory council,” replied Strouth. “We help make decisions that are for the greater good of the Serpent. We don’t act as a law enforcement entity.”

“Then how were you planning on arresting the actual saboteur, once they’d been found?”

Strouth seemed irritated by the question. “That would be an obvious exception, Mister Scherer. Also, our evidence of their guilt would have to be incontrovertible. That’s the challenge here. I just don’t see how we can maintain the mission statement of our community while also finding the guilty party.”

“Are you suggesting that we assert ourselves as despots?” asked Shijiu. “That will make the situation worse.”

“There has to be a middle ground,” said Riel.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s best for your people,” said John. “For now, everyone in this room knows that it’s impossible that Malthus is guilty. You need to make an announcement, and ensure his safety until we get to Tengshe.”

“I will,” said Strouth. “Mister Brewer, you’re welcome to stay on the Kestrel until then.”

“I emphatically accept,” replied Malthus.

“As for the rest of you, I suggest you limit your interactions with the public for now.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said John. “Malthus, we’ll bring your stuff to you later today. Captain Strouth, is there another way off this ship? It’s not exactly a secret that the rest of us are associated with Malthus. I’m not sure we’re going to make it back to the Tempest tonight without shooting our way there.”

“There isn’t another way out. Come with me to the concourse, you’ll be safe. I’ll make that announcement. That should mollify the populace for now. Meet me on the causeway in a few minutes, all right? I’d like to talk to the other captains for a moment first.”

John and his team exited to the corridor.

“I was sorely tempted to use this opportunity to ask Strouth to take us to Caracal or Tengshe,” he said. “Now that we’re causing problems for them, perhaps he’d be more willing to consider it.”

“That won’t solve their saboteur problem,” said Vecky. “Unless they blame one of us after the fact. But then they’d need to explain why we weren’t punished.”

Cane said, “I think blaming us is actually a pretty good idea. Our punishment could be banishment. If one of their SRC transceivers could be miraculously fixed, then they could plop us back on Ibnal’saffar and call the Reckless Faith to come get us.”

“I don’t think we should discuss it further here,” said John. “These walls have ears.”

The team made their way to the airlock causeway and waited. Soon, Strouth arrived, carrying a small speaker attached to a hand-held microphone. Entering the main concourse, they discovered that the majority of the mob that had gathered was still there, though considerably calmer than before. Strouth set up the speaker and tested the volume.

“Y’all good in the back?” he began. “Citizens of the Serpent, I’m disappointed in what has happened here tonight. For a hundred years, we have maintained a peaceful society, able to solve our differences amicably, or serve the interests of justice when necessary, without a formal police force. I can see now that recent events have escalated to our first real existential crisis, so I’m here to clear the air. Yes, the water storage tanks on the Fortuna were indeed damaged by an act of sabotage. I have my best people working the case to uncover the person or persons responsible for it and, I assure you, they will be dealt with. For now, I want to assure you that the people standing beside me were in medical quarantine at the time of the incident, and could not be the culprits.

“Malthus Brewer, the man who was unjustly attacked, and his friends, John Scherer, Ray Bailey, Chance Richter, Kyrie Devonai, Reveki Kitsune, and Cane Venator, are innocent. Any further attempt to blame them, or any action taken against them, will result in immediate reprisal by me, personally. And none of you will like what that means. Until our arrival at Tengshe, where they will disembark, they will have the same privileges on the Serpent as any other citizen. If anyone objects, speak your mind now.”

No one said anything, and the crowd began to disperse.

“I like your style,” said Cane.

“Come on, I’ll escort you back to the Tempest. If things stay calm for a few days, I’ll bring Mister Brewer back to you, if he’s willing.”

“We’ll keep our head down, too,” said John.

_____

Helena Cygnet sat at her bar, deep in thought. Her two employees had just left, having finished their usual closing and cleanup routine, and she was alone. Normally, she would take a quick shower and go to bed, but on this night, she was waiting for company. She was having second thoughts about her invitation, and had poured herself a glass of whiskey to help calm her anxiety. Though she wanted to get more information out of the Terrans, doing so might reopen old wounds. Adding to that, meeting the girl, Kitsune, had invoked an uncanny feeling, something Helena recognized.

At some point, Kitsune had communicated directly with a Kira’To. It was an experience they shared, she was sure of that. In Helena’s case, what had happened to her was strange and terrifying. On the Swan, only Acolyte Dann was supposed to have that privilege. Of course, there were rumors of others, but those were dismissed as fits of insanity or outright lies. After the death of Cygnus, and the collapse of the SCC, her world was further shattered to learn of the existence of the Eagle asteroid, what happened there, and how common psychic contact with that Kira’To seemed to be. Perhaps not all of the souls on the Swan who claimed such contact were crazy after all. The thought had first chilled her blood, then hardened her heart. As for Kitsune, it was a name she’d heard before, and she was intensely curious to know the girl’s lineage.

Helena’s train of thought was interrupted by a knock. She got up, and crossed to the heavy hardwood door. Peering through the warped, amber glass set in the top half, she saw Scherer, Kitsune and Richter. She unlocked the door, and let them in. Both men nodded at her as they entered, and doffed the hoods they were wearing. Helena gestured at a table, and grabbed her glass from the bar.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, setting her drink down.

Scherer took off the jacket he was wearing, and draped it over a chair. “I wouldn’t mind more of that dark lager.”

“I don’t think alcohol would be a good idea for me at this hour,” said Kitsune.

Richter sat down. “I’m good for now.”

After filling a comically-large mug with the requested beer, Helena brought it over and sat down. “Your other friend couldn’t make it?”

John said, “After today’s incident, we thought it best to keep a low profile out there.”

“I suppose that’s wise. So, thanks for agreeing to meet me again. I’m interested in hearing more about each of your stories, but I must confess, I’m most interested in talking with Miss Kitsune.”

“You can call me Vecky,” she said.

“Okay. Here’s the thing. I know you’re not Terran. Were you really abducted by Cygnus?”

John said, “I didn’t mean to imply earlier that all of us were. Ray Bailey, who you met yesterday, and Kyrie Devonai, another with us, are Terran. Vecky, Cane Venator, and Malthus Brewer are not. They all fell into our group at different times before we ended up together on Caracal.”

“I see. Vecky, would you mind sharing your story?”

Vecky glanced at her companions, then nodded. “All right, I’ll try to give you the short version. I was a farm girl on Primus, about to graduate from school. My uncle Miya, captain of a freelance ship called the Fox, came to visit me and my dad, Aoba. During a tour of his ship, Aoba was killed in a horrific accident. Of course, we were in shock, but Miya was compelled to tell me that Aoba was actually another uncle who raised me as his own child after my mother died, and that my real father, Tomoyaso, abandoned me as a baby. Are you following me so far?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. So, of course this was a lot of information to take in at once. After some time on the Fox, it was revealed that me, my mother, and all three Kitsune brothers were born on the Eagle asteroid, which had been slowly passing by the Primus system for a few decades. I wanted to learn more, so I traveled to the Eagle, met their leader at the time, Daimyo Yurishi, and demanded answers. On top of all of that…”

“Wait,” Helena blurted. “I’m sorry, but you were born on the Eagle? That means you and I have a very special bond.”

“In many ways, yes. So, on top of all of that, Yurishi revealed that my mother was in fact alive, and confined to the Eagle’s sanitarium for an apparent mental illness. Her condition was so severe that I was taken from her shortly after being born, and since my real father wanted nothing to do with me, Aoba adopted me. He moved from the Eagle to Primus, started a farm, did a stint in the Camphustian military reserves, and raised me. At first I was angry that I had been lied to my whole life, but after learned of the circumstances, it was easy to understand that he had done so to protect me.”

“I can certainly understand that, too. How resilient you must be to have your entire life turned upside-down so quickly. I’ve had to find an inner reserve of strength myself after what happened on the Swan.”

“I had to grow up fast, to be sure. Anyway, I wanted to stay on the Eagle, at least for a little while, and try to communicate with my mother. Though Yurishi allowed me to stay, he forbid me from seeing her. I might have left never knowing any more, except that’s when the mercenaries attacked. I believe you know what happened next.”

Helena felt the blood drain from her face. “Aquila was freed from his prison.”

“Yup, I was there for that; the attack, the coup, the destruction of the reactor, everything. Shit sucked. After all of that, I decided to seek my fortune elsewhere in the galaxy. It was all too much.”

“I know exactly how you feel. I apologize but, I’ve been dying to ask you: are you related to Daiymo Kitsune?”

“He’s my real father. He took advantage of the mercenary attack to stage the coup. He tried to befriend me, but I don’t want anything to do with him. I left, and haven’t spoken to him since. After a long journey, I made my way to Leda and… you’re not going to like what happened next.”

Helena considered Reveki’s words for several moments, then drew her pistol and pointed it at her. She and the others froze.

“No,” she replied. “I imagine I won’t like it at all.”

Spoiler alert: This is the beginning of the 9th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

On the bridge of the Reckless Faith, the mood among the crew was that of excitement. Dana and Ari had found a match for the arrangement of stars depicted in Maoko’s drawing, and they were eager to share that information with Christie. While the sporadic contact they’d had with her, and NASA by extension, continued to indicate that no help would be dispatched, they were still holding out hope that the news they were about to share would spur someone to act. Eva, Ari, Dana, and Fuyue were ready to send a message back to Earth, but first they’d have to wait until the line was free.

At the moment, the channel was occupied by Friday, sitting on the pilot chair, and a tuxedo cat named Renée, five hundred light-years away, on the bridge of the Vigilance. It was a social call, and the two chatted about life with the humans and their experiences with having recently become sentient. Unable to actually speak English, their conversation was being facilitated entirely by their connections to their respective orbs, with the dialogue being relayed through the synthetic voices they’d chosen for themselves. The humans didn’t want to be rude, but the cats had been going on for almost half an hour. Eventually, they’d have to be interrupted.

“What about play time?” Renée was asking. “Do you still have time for that?”

“I’ve lost interest in that,” Friday replied. “It doesn’t hold the same excitement anymore.”

“Really? Never? Maybe you should try a new toy.”

“It’s more complicated than that. I’m sorry, Renée, but I’m pretty sure the humans need to use the radio now. We can talk again later, okay?”

Renée looked crestfallen. “Okay.”

Friday turned to Dana. “It’s all yours.”

“Renée,” began Dana, “we need to talk to Christie now.”

Renée looked up and to one side. “I’ll put you through. Goodbye, Friday.”

The screen changed to a text message with information on the channel, and indicated an audio-only connection. Christie’s voice came through a moment later.

“Hello, Reckless Faith,” she said. “Are you still at the Eagle?”

“Yes,” replied Dana. “Christie, we have great news. We identified the location of Maoko’s drawing. The constellations shown are a match to a location at or within the solar system of Upsilon Andromeda. That’s about three hundred light-years from us, and only forty-four light-years from Earth. An inconsequential trip for the Faith, and a pop out for smokes for the Fox or any one of your fleet.”

There was a pause before Christie replied. “I hear what you’re saying, Andrews. Unfortunately, the position of Earth’s allies has not changed since the disaster on Tartarus. If your crew has come to terms with that, then fine; but Brockway and the rest of the survivors on the Percheron needed only to tell the truth to NASA, the Space Force, and our allies, to convince them that any support given to the Reckless Faith is counterproductive.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” said Ari. “I’m not going to suggest that finding our missing friends is more important than the defense of Earth, but come on, Christie! Have you no sympathy for John and Kyrie? Most of all, Ray?”

“They would be the first ones to discourage sacrificing our defensive resources on an uncertain mission to find them. However, I still care about their wellbeing. I will, of course, share this information with everyone. I can’t make any promises, but I suspect at least one person will find a way to help you. Whatever form that help may take, I’ll have to disavow any knowledge of it.”

Eva said, “We appreciate it. I’m sure you have a lot on your plate. Can you at least share with us the progress of the fleet?”

“The Valkyrie is near completion. Next up is a series of Dietrich-class light cruisers, which will be similar to the Mark Seventeen. Unlike the V-series ships, these will be manufactured in the UK and Japan in addition to the US.”

“Exciting.”

“We think so. Was there anything else?”

‘Uh. No. Thank you, Christie.”

The screen switched back to show the cavernous interior of the Eagle’s main hangar.

“What’s going on with her?” asked Fuyue.

Ari said, “It turns out that being violently disincorporated several times is traumatic to the psyche. Who knew?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. So, that’s it then? You’re going to wait for the arrival of the Antares, then go look for your friends?”

“That’s the plan,” replied Dana. “We’re still hoping that Captain Lesath will choose to have her ship accompany us, but we’ll understand if they want to take you and return to their own mission.”

“I imagine they’ll come with you. I might have been able to convince them otherwise, if not for my current situation. Regardless of that, I’m on your side. Speaking of which…”

Fuyue walked to the back corner of the bridge, and picked up Eva’s bokken. Eva and Ari’s hands moved to their pistols, but they did not draw. Fuyue noticed their reactions, and after a moment, put the bokken down.

“Well?” asked Eva.

“Nothing. I seem to have the same problem that Faen did after she got her android body. Our natural connection to these weapons is gone.”

“If I recall correctly,” began Ari, “you said that Faen had ‘some difficulty’ adapting her staff to her new body, not that she couldn’t use it at all.”

“Certain features can be activated without any innate talent. She learned enough to be granted the rank of Sortarius. I’ll regain my rank, too, given enough time. Anyway, I continue to find this interface to be exhausting. If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my quarters and turn my brain off for a while.”

“Of course, take all the time you need.”

Fuyue exited to the conference room. Ari glared at Eva.

“I thought you had that thing locked in the armory.”

Eva shrugged. “I did. These artifacts have a tendency to end up where they think they should be.”

Dana said, “If you trusted him enough to believe that he’s really Fuyue, then why the apprehension about him handling that weapon?”

“It just surprised us, that’s all,” said Ari. “As Eva said, the staff was supposed to be in the armory.”

“I see. Let’s just hope you’re not handing a ticking time bomb to Lesath.”

“She got a full briefing; she should be aware of the risks. Perhaps they can use their Sortarii powers to reach their own conclusions. As far as we can tell, if a person is the sum of their memories, then that’s Fuyue.”

Dana picked up a mug from the console, only to find it empty. “Speaking of which, did you have a chance to review his use of his staff?”

“I did. Need more coffee?”

“Yes.”

Eva said, “Me too, but I’m going to stow this staff again. I’m curious to see what will happen. I’ll meet you two in the galley.”

“Friday, you have the bridge,” said Dana.

“Okey dokey,” said the cat.

The three women got up and made their way to the galley. Jim was there, sitting on the couch with a tablet, so they greeted him. Eva exited toward the orb room while Dana got herself a fresh serving of coffee. They sat down at the bar, and soon, Eva returned.

“So, whatcha got?” Eva asked.

Ari swiveled around on her stool. “What Fuyue said about certain functions not requiring any skill is sort of true. As we’ve discovered, not everyone can see the patterns on the surface of these weapons. If they can, then yes, it’s a simple matter of teaching them where to hold it, or what sequence of touches will make it work. Other things, most notably the shock wave Fuyue used to gib Graffias, and the inferno he used to obliterate the Rakhar in the bowels of the spaceport on Sadal Biham, require a skill that goes beyond anything that can be quantified. In those cases, Fuyue just imagined what he wanted to happen, and it happened.”

“That has been my experience as well.”

Dana said, “That’s interesting, thank you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get us any closer to replicating a staff or appropriating any of its technology for other uses.”

“Thankfully,” replied Ari, “we still have bullets and bourbon.”

“Speaking of which, it’s 1700. Shall we?”

__________

Another two days had passed since John and his friends had arrived at the Flying Serpent. For the most part, they had spent that time minding their own business and enjoying the fruits of Cane’s winnings at the Pit of Vipers. Cane had managed to get himself banned from that establishment, but not before acquiring enough money to allow their team to buy whatever they wanted, and easily sustain themselves until they arrived at Tengshe. Though they were keeping their mouths shut, they were keeping their ears open, and during visits to bars and restaurants they had managed to pick up a few bits of useful information.

Madet’s investigation into the sabotage incident, though no one knew why, was pointing toward members of the Order of Andromeda. Scuttlebutt seemed to indicate that people thought this was a matter of Madet going after low-hanging fruit, and/or an attempt to find a scapegoat. The team was far more skeptical of this possibility, unless it also involved a cover-up, since their impression of Madet was of a man who genuinely cared about the Serpent. Ultimately, it wouldn’t be their problem, unless there was another incident in the next couple of weeks.

They had also debated the wisdom of trying to get any info out of Helena, the alleged former member of the Order. A few of them had visited her establishment a few times, but had so far discovered that she presented herself as a normal bar owner dealing with day-to-day business and occasionally kicking out problematic drunks, rather than a mysterious mystic. They did, however, at least introduce themselves to her while ordering drinks. After becoming familiar faces, John had decided to give it a shot.

It was evening by the Serpent’s clock, and John stood in the corridor on the second deck of the Tempest, waiting for those that had volunteered to come with him. They had been able to upgrade from the basic quarters a deck below, and surprisingly, the same ship had much nicer accommodations above. They’d also discovered that after the upgrade, their keycards granted them access to the rest of the ship, including the engine room and bridge, but those chambers offered them nothing but a look at some systems long since derelict.

Reveki was the first to emerge from her quarters. John immediately noticed that she was carrying her Sortarii staff.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to be carrying that around,” he said. “You remember how the Anachronians reacted to seeing one. We can’t be sure someone here isn’t similarly opposed to them.”

Vecky was crestfallen, but nodded. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just that this staff manifested itself all the way from the Eagle’s reactor room to the Fox on its own accord, and also survived being transported across hundreds of light years from Tartarus to Ibnal’saffar. I’m clearly meant to have it.”

“I agree, but even still, you haven’t been able to access any of its powers.”

“Consider it an emotional support staff. Anyway…”

Vecky stowed the staff in her quarters. By the time she got back, Richter, Kyrie, and Ray had arrived.

“Cane’s still a little miffed at not being invited,” said Kyrie.

“After getting kicked out of that gambling den,” John replied, “I think it’s best he not come along for this. There’s too much of a chance that someone he pissed off will be there.”

Richter said, “There weren’t any guns drawn, but the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. For a moment I thought there was going to be a shootout. Though the pit boss let us leave with our winnings, I’d even go as far as to say that Cane shouldn’t leave the Tempest at all for the rest of the trip.”

“I’ll talk to him,” began Vecky, “but I can’t force him to stay here. I think he’ll listen to reason.”

“I found out that those people on roller skates are a food delivery service,” said Ray. “He can get whatever he wants delivered to his room.”

“I was wondering what those guys scooting around were doing,” said John. “We’ll deal with Cane when we get back. Everybody ready to head out?”

There were no objections, so the group made their way to the airlock and out to the cavernous concourse. It was dinnertime, so there was no shortage of people around. As they’d come to expect from the Serpent, the smell of two dozen different restaurants and food carts permeated the air. The group weaved their way through the crowd, keeping their pistols and other valuables in check as each of them inevitably brushed against a stranger on their way to their destination.

The area around the entrance to Nepenthe wasn’t as congested, probably due to the fact that the bar didn’t serve food other than snacks. Upon entering, however, they found the bar fully occupied, and most of the tables claimed. More than a few patrons were smoking tobacco, or some analog thereof, and a layer of blue-gray smoke clung to the ceiling. After a moment to wander throughout the bar, they at last found a table that was free. John swept a collection of nut shells and other crumbs to the floor, and they sat down.

“How many of these shitholes have we had to endure throughout our travels?” asked Ray.

“I think Helena runs a better shop than that,” replied Vecky.

“I just meant in general.”

“All right,” began John. “We’ve all been here before. Decide what you want to drink, and I’ll put in the order. Richter, do me a favor and go easy on the booze.”

Ray grinned. “So the rest of us can get drunk?”

“Work on your splits a bit more before you act so confident, Bailey. So, what’ll it be?”

The group decided on what they wanted, choosing from a diverse list of what they knew Nepenthe had to offer. John went to the bar, edging carefully between the man on the last stool on the left and a woman standing by the wall. Helena was there, but John was approached by one of her employees first, a young Mirachian woman with long, braided hair.

“Are you sure you’re good to be out of quarantine already?” she asked.

“You said that the last time I was here, and yes. Captain Strouth runs a tight ship. Or contraption, as it were.”

“My boss said you and your people are Terran. I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a rather boring planet quite far from here. We’re seeking our own fortune out this way. I doubt we’ll ever be back. Can I place an order?”

A moment later, laden with a tray of four giant glasses of the local version of lager beer, John returned to the table, managing to put them down without spilling anything.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Vecky.

“I was hoping to find a natural way of opening up a conversation with Helena. I guess for now we can just hang out and look for an opportunity.”

“That might not happen unless foot traffic thins out in a bit,” said Ray.

Richter reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “Fortunately, I brought a way to kill time.”

“Careful with that,” said John. “There’s no gambling allowed in here.”

“Who said anything about gambling? Come to think of it, if you really want to force a conversation with her, let her think we’re gambling.”

“That might work. Go ahead and start dealing.”

Richter began dealing cards to himself and the three others. “Five card draw. Let’s keep it simple for now.”

Sure enough, the group hadn’t even made it through the first hand before they noticed Helena’s employee pointing them out to her. The older woman approached the table. She was wearing a blue handkerchief on her head, which covered her hair and ears, and an apron on her body. She had dark circles under her eyes, and had something on a cord around her long neck, the end of which was tucked into her undershirt.

“This had better be a friendly game,” she said.

“For the most part,” replied Richter, pulling out a coin. “Let’s make a deal. Heads, we gamble, tails, we don’t.”

He flipped the coin into the air, and Helena leaned over and caught it. As she did so, a pendant slipped out from underneath her shirt. John’s eyes widened as he saw the shape of it.

“Nice try,” she said, pocketing the coin. “It was tails, and your first tip of the night.”

John pointed at the pendant. “That’s a pretty swan you’ve got there. My girlfriend has an identical one back home.”

Helena stiffened up and gave him a curious look. “A gift from you, or did she have it before?”

“I think you know where she got it.”

She tucked the pendant back under her shirt, and considered the group at the table. After a moment, she gestured at them.

“Come with me.”

She walked toward the bar, so John and his team grabbed their drinks and followed. She led them to a back room, which was a combination of an office and a storeroom. She sat at her desk, removed her handkerchief, and ran her fingers through her hair. There were no other chairs, so the rest of them stood awkwardly by the door. John noticed that her ears lacked any lobes.

“As I thought,” he said. “You’re Dellalian.”

She put a hand under her desk. “And you’re Terran, at least you and your men are. The girl, I’m not so sure. Anyway, you wanted to get my attention. You’ve got it. What do you want from me?”

“I’ll get to that. First of all, are you familiar with what happened on the Swan recently?”

“You mean the total collapse of the SCC?”

“Yes, but more specifically I mean the Terrans that were brought to the Swan by Cygnus.”

“Yes. I was there that day. Total chaos.”

“We were part of the group that was abducted from Terra and brought there. Most of them were rescued by the CLF during the subsequent attack on the Swan, but we were left behind. Over the next few weeks, we had the chance to return to Terra, but had become fascinated with learning more about the galactic community that prior to that we had no idea even existed. So, we decided to throw in our lots with a freighter that was headed to Caracal, then joined the Serpent for a slow trip to Tengshe.”

Helena nodded. “So it seems we decided to follow a similar path, though I chose to depart the Swan for a different reason. I was a dyed-in-the-wool Cygnian disciple. That religion had waned, but still had a small, fervent following. I was devastated by the death of Cygnus, and infuriated by what became of the Swan. I fled to Dellal, but it wasn’t far enough. I wanted to get as far away from there as possible. I wanted to try to forget. I suppose that’s impossible.”

“It seems our fates are intertwined. Helena, we were hoping to talk to you about the Order of Andromeda. You see, we’re distrustful of mysterious religious sects, and we were hoping to have an uneventful crossing to Tengshe.”

She folded her arms across her chest. I’d like to help you, but I’m sworn to secrecy… and that’s an oath I still take seriously now even though I’m not a member anymore. If it makes you feel better, you have nothing to fear from them. Just ignore them and you’ll be fine.”

Vecky said, “If they’re sworn to secrecy, then how do they recruit new members?”

“Oh, they’ll give you a neat little sales pitch if you stop by their temple. They’ll promise you all the typical things; peace of mind, a sense of purpose, et cetera. They don’t go any further until you take your vows.”

“Can you at least share with us why you left?” asked Ray.

“I didn’t find peace of mind or a sense of purpose.”

“Fair enough,” said John. “Is it as simple as saying ‘goodbye’ to quit?”

“Yes. Find out for yourself if you want. But I warn you, their leader is very good at sussing out people who aren’t genuine in their interest. That’s all I have to say about it. For now, I’ve got to get back to my work. I would like to talk to you more about your experiences on the Swan later, if you’re willing.”

“Sure. What time do you close?”

“Zero-two. Just knock.”

John nodded, and his group returned to the bar. Their table had been taken, and there were no others, so they chugged their beers, put their empty glasses on a tray, and exited to the concourse.

“Are you planning on telling her the truth?” asked Vecky.

“I don’t think that would go over well,” said Ray.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t,” John said. “I’ll stick to our cover story. That said, if I’m staying up that late then I’m going back to my quarters to take a nap. If any of you want to come, stop by at zero-one-thirty.”

Richter said, “I’ll be there. Though your ability to BS people never ceases to amaze me, prying into such things as the sabotage problem and Captain Strouth’s stubbornness may not go over well, either.”

“It’s fortunate that she’s from the Swan,” said Vecky. “Otherwise I don’t think she’d talk to us at all. I’ll be there.”

John nodded. “I agree. Ray?”

“Count me in,” he replied.

There was a commotion about a hundred meters down the concourse. A small group was heading in their direction, shouting about something, and the crowd quickly grew as people ran to see what the problem was. As the angry throng moved within earshot of John and his team, they could hear some of what was being said.

“They’ve caught the saboteur!” shouted one man.

“Take him to Captain Strouth!” said a woman.

If there was a suspect at the center of the crowd, they couldn’t see. Richter clambered on top of a nearby crate for a better view.

“Shit,” he spat, then to the others, “It’s Malthus.”

“Malthus?” asked Ray. “What the hell?”

Richter hopped down to the deck. “So much for keeping this whole thing quiet.”

“We can’t help him now,” said John. “Hopefully they won’t tear him to pieces before they get to the Kestrel. Strouth knows he can’t possibly be the suspect. He’ll get this sorted out.”

“Sure, if he doesn’t think Malthus is an easy scapegoat. Either way, shit’s just going to get worse from here.”

Spoiler alert: This is the beginning of the 9th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

The Pit of Vipers was a claustrophobic space set apart from the main concourse of the Serpent, found down a flight of stairs and through a dim corridor barely large enough for a Rakhar to pass without ducking. Once inside, a patron would find a series of chambers that branched off every ten meters, with those spaces set in a distinctive four-leaf clover pattern. Each alcove offered a choice of gambling, drugs, and/or a host of other vices. It was the sort of place that attracted only those just as willing to accept having their limp corpses purged from an airlock as they were to draw their next breath, either through desperation or boredom.

Suffering from neither of those problems, Madet Peschiri didn’t want to be there at all. It was only in pursuit of the cause of the damage to the water storage tanks on the Fortuna that he ventured there. So far, his investigation had revealed nothing, and despite the generous allowance given to him by his superiors, his expenditures had done nothing but unjustly enrich a few residents with the presence of mind to tell a half-believable story. Still, enduring a cacophony of discordant musical tracks, accompanied badly by drunks who believed they were talented crooners, and a nearly-stifling atmosphere of tobacco smoke and who knew what else, Madet was left longing for clearer, more peaceful air.

He was ready to flee the ad-hoc labyrinth, and had made his way back to the central hallway, when he noticed the arrival of Biggles and the newcomers known as Cane, Becky (or some homophone thereof), and Richter. They consulted with the man that passed for a concierge for such a place, then disappeared into a room that Madet knew as a venue for card games. A small voice in the back of his head encouraged him to eavesdrop on them, but the strangers had arrived after his problem had begun, making it highly unlikely that they had anything to do with it.

Despite his certainly that the newcomers weren’t saboteurs, he couldn’t help but linger by the hastily-hung red velvet curtains and eavesdrop on the conversation. Cane had quickly earned himself a seat at a game of Five Gambit, offering something he called a Liberator as an ante. Though Madet didn’t know who else was at the table, he had to assume it was a handful of the Pit’s regulars. If Cane’s companions had any desire to participate, he didn’t hear them say anything. Cane evidently knew how to play, as all Madet could hear was the dealing of cards.

He exited the Pit, and walked down the main drag of the Serpent. Ben, a Carcali man, caught his eye and gestured toward him. Madet approached him. Ben owned a used electronics shop, and offered for him to come inside. The shop smelled like soldering metal. He found a place to sit among the collection of what appeared to be obsolete junk, and Ben took up a spot behind the counter.

“I assume our deal is still in place,” said Ben.

“It is. What’s going on?”

“Some of those people who were released from quarantine visited my shop earlier this morning. They were asking about an SRC transceiver. I told them, of course, that if I ever had one for sale, it would have been purchased long ago.”

Madet nodded. “Indeed. Did they say why they needed it?”

“No, but they did ask me if I had the technical skill to fix one.”

“And your response?”

“I said maybe, depending on the model. Then they asked where other than the Kestrel they could access one. I gave them the obvious answer: the other three ships.”

“And nothing else.”

Ben scowled. “Look, man, I don’t know why Strouth has never followed-up on his questions to me, or if his transceiver was fixed by someone else. Despite that our relationship is strictly transactional; I have honored it, even if certain things were implied rather than stated.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to…”

“Yeah, you did. It’s fine. I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing. In fact, I’ll even do you a favor, though my gut tells me not to. Everyone on the Serpent knows that the Kestrel went to Ibnal’saffar, and that the sudden comingling of our new guests is not a coincidence. If I were you, I’d reconsider letting them roam around without an escort.”

“That’s not my decision, and it’s a little late for that anyway.”

“Okay. I think we’re done here.”

Based on the expression on Ben’s face, Madet thought it best to leave. He stood up and exited to the concourse. He was divided on where to go next. While he had a small piece of info to relay to Strouth, it hardly seemed worth his time. He leaned up against the bulkhead, and immediately regretted doing so, as at least a decade’s worth of grime smeared onto his shoulder. Cursing, and resisting the urge to touch the mess on his favorite jacket, he almost missed the passing by of John Scherer, Ray Bailey, Malthus, and Kyrie Devonai. He stumbled forward, his heavy footfalls betraying his presence to them, and they stopped to look at him. Madet glanced around to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Peschiri,” said John.

“You people are making my life more difficult than it needs to be,” he began. “Your recklessness is drawing unneeded attention. You already know we’ll be at Tengshe soon enough; why can’t you just mind your own business until then?”

“Reckless is the right word,” replied John. “Anyway, Captain Strouth strongly implied that we had free rein of this place. Biggles said nothing to the contrary, either. If there are rules we’re not aware of, please, elucidate us.”

“It’s just that after all you’ve been through, I had hoped you’d be content to lay low until our next port of call.”

Kyrie said, “You were there for that conversation. You already know we have people we want to contact. I think it’s time you level with us about the SRC situation.”

Madet huffed in frustration. “Between what Strouth told you, and your conversation with Ben, I think you have your answer already.”

“The problem,” began Ray, “is that an SRC transceiver isn’t exactly a super-complicated piece of technology, relatively speaking. The Serpent has four ships with functional FTL drives, which are a lot tougher to keep running than a radio. We’re asking questions around here because all of the excuses we’ve been offered so far sound like bullshit.”

“You’re not going to get the answers you want from me.” Madet folded his arms across his chest. “Either take it up with Strouth, or wait until we get to Tengshe. And if you choose the former, don’t be surprised if you get confined to quarters for the rest of the trip. Is this place really so bad? You can get anything you want here, as your friends Venator, Kitsune, and the guy with eight fingers have already figured out. Shit, I can get you some stuff that’ll have you chasing dragons until you forget your own name.”

“That sounds nice,” said Malthus.

“You know what, forget it. I’ve already said my piece. You can put two lapras together but you can’t make them mate.”

Without another word, Madet walked away.

_____

“That guy should take his own advice and smoke some weed, or something.”

John’s comment came after he and his group had seated themselves at a nearby café. The tables were outside the café, on the concourse, and while they didn’t know if a waiter would approach them, they weren’t interested in purchasing beverages. Amidst the bustle of noontime activity, it seemed to offer a good place to have a conversation, albeit in low tones. They had been able to gather some intel about the water situation on the Serpent easily enough, mostly by just listening to chatter on the street.

While Captain Strouth had implied that the Kestrel’s trips to Ibnal’saffar were a routine resupply mission, they had since learned otherwise. Something had happened to the main storage tanks for the convoy, necessitating repairs and a fresh source of water. As chief engineer, this was undoubtedly the source of Madet’s stress. Exactly what had happened to the tanks was unknown to the residents there, or at least anyone John’s group had overheard. However, superstition about Ibnal’saffar and possible consequences for visiting it were a very popular topic.

“He’s right, though,” replied Kyrie. “Waiting another three weeks to get out of here isn’t the end of the world. We should just lay low and enjoy ourselves with whatever funds Venator is about to win for us.”

“I agree,” said Malthus. “I’m just glad to have basic luxuries back.”

Ray nodded. “What concerns me is that Strouth mentioned that he hoped some of us would decide to become permanent residents. After the story we told him, how could he think any of us would want to stay here?”

“It’s vaguely ominous, for sure,” said John. “While I’m sure we looked like space hobos when we first met, he knows we were on a mission that got interrupted. Malthus, you’re the only one I can imagine deciding to stay here.”

Malthus scoffed. “I’ll take planetside and fresh, open air for the rest of my life, thanks.”

“Of course. Sorry.”

“We’ve managed to gather a lot of intel in just half a day,” said Kyrie. “I say we keep our mouths shut and act like any other resident until we have a reason to do otherwise.”

The sound of drums in the distance met their ears. As the noise drew closer, the crowd on the concourse moved to the sides, leaving a clear path in the middle. A group in purple robes was coming through, some with drums, and others with wooden signs in an unknown language. They had hoods pulled up over their heads, so it was difficult to see what race they were or any other commonality between them. Though apparently being respectful of the procession, other than moving out of the way, most people continued what they’d been doing before. John and his team watched them pass by until they were out of sight.

“I haven’t heard anything about a religious sect here,” said John.

“Yeah,” said Ray. “It hardly seems like the type of place for one.”

A Carcali man wearing an apron came out of the café with his hands on his hips.

“Are you going to order anything?” he asked. “You have to come inside to order. Otherwise stop taking up table space out here.”

“We’ll be on our way,” replied John. “Who were those people that just passed by?”

“You must be part of that group that was in quarantine. They’re the Order of Andromeda. They’re ascetics or something like that. They keep to themselves except once a day to march down the concourse.”

“How long have they been here?” asked Kyrie.

“Not that long, actually. A year or two. They grew from a single man who either founded the cult or brought his beliefs with him. New members immediately take an oath of silence so I can’t tell you which.”

“Cult?”

“Cult, sect, whatever.”

Ray asked, “What did their signs say?”

“No fucking idea. I don’t recognize the script.”

“Has anyone ever changed their mind and left the group?”

“One woman, Helena, she owns the bar across the street, Nepenthe.” He gestured at the storefront. “Even though she’s moved on, she still takes her vow of secrecy seriously. I wouldn’t bother trying to ask her questions about the cult. Anyway, order something or move along.”

“It’s lunchtime,” said Malthus. “This place looks as good as any, why don’t we stay?”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I meant that we haven’t tried any of the establishments here yet.”

“Fine. Come inside to order.”

__________

Colonel Colette Brockway drove her car down a dark and desolate road that snaked its way to a far corner of Malmstrom Air Force Base, Montana. She had already passed through several layers of security before being allowed to continue, and while her destination appeared to be nothing but a wide, empty field with a few outbuildings, she knew better. Underground was a decommissioned missile silo, and above it, hidden by an invisibility shield, was the Valkyrie.

The ship, which was quite close to being able to make its first test flight into space, was an almost exact copy of the other two V-series ships that had preceded it. A full battleship, the trio, along with Colette’s own ship, the Percheron, would fare well in protecting the Earth from smaller threats from beyond their solar system. The Valkyrie was not to be the last of its kind, but once it was completed, a new design would go into production; a ship meant to fill the gap between a true fighter like the F-40 Warhawk II, and the cruiser class of the Percheron. It would be more like the Reckless Faith than anything else, an irony not lost on Colette and her crew.

For now, the excitement over adding the Valkyrie to Earth’s fleet was palpable, despite the fact that it had to be outfitted with the same Cooper engine as the others. While their scientists had discovered how to greatly increase their production of the special breed of neptunium they so desperately needed, a true Umberian FTL drive would have to wait until the next ship off of the production line. There were just a few other things to work out first, one of which was the reason for Colette’s visit.

Strapped into the seat next to her, as well as two in the back, were three carriers containing a total of nine eight-week-old kittens. Though they were totally unremarkable as far as kittens go, greatness might await one or more of them. Every one of their ships needed a sentient being to occupy the orb at its center, and they were running awfully short of human volunteers. Though Colonel Drake Campbell’s consciousness had been successfully integrated into the Vanguard upon his death, two further human subjects on the Vigilance had not. It was then, after carefully analyzing the data about the emergence of Friday’s sentience, the cat aboard the Reckless Faith, that Christie Tolliver had suggested using a cat instead of a human.

It was because of this that the brain of the Vigilance was occupied not by a person, but by a three-month-old tuxedo cat named Renée, plucked from a nearby shelter. While the physical orb itself was still doing the heavy computational lifting, Renée provided the ability for the crew to have a verbal conversation with the orb, a detail that preceding crews had found indispensable. So, the search had begun for a backup for Renée, as well as two viable candidates for the Valkyrie. Renée had been the third kitten to be so tested, with the first two failing to reach the level of aptitude required. If none of the nine that Colette was escorting made the cut, they’d start over again with a new batch. Fortunately for all of the unwitting candidates, the testing and training was harmless.

Colette parked her car and approached one of the outbuildings, which was the entrance to the silo, and made contact with the Security Forces personnel at the door. She had her ID checked and retina scanned yet another time, then asked the guards to help her unload her cargo. One of them volunteered to carry two of the carriers of tiny screaming furballs, while she grabbed the other. They entered the building, descended an elevator to sub-level 3, and disembarked. This was the main research level. Like the similar facility in New Mexico, the scientists and engineers here were working on several different projects.

Colette and her charges made a right turn and entered a room that had been named the Companion Laboratory. They brought the carriers to a fenced-off area that contained food, water, litter boxes, beds, and about a hundred toys. Also there were Elijah and Elisha, the two rejects that had quickly become beloved pets in the silo. While the pair were free to roam most of the other areas, they had been brought in to ease the transition of the kittens into their new home. As hoped, once the kittens were free from their cages and had begun to explore the area, the older cats took to them as if they were kin. Colette said hello to a woman named Tina, the NASA flight veterinarian assigned to the silo.

“You have the best job in the EDF,” Colette said, smiling at the scene before her.

Tina grinned. “I have to agree, though we do have a lot of work ahead. How are things on the Percheron? Are you enjoying being in command?”

Colette grabbed a rat-on-a-stick and got the attention of a couple of kittens. “It’s fine. I wish I hadn’t gotten there the way I did, but I’m proud of my ship and her crew.”

“How’s it going with Christie?”

The rat jingled as the kittens clumsily attacked it. “No change. Her android is still gathering dust in the cargo hold. At least she still chooses to present herself as human in video calls. Other than that, she prefers to stay in the orb.”

“After everything she’s been through, I can’t say I blame her.”

“She would be the last person to admit that her state is in response to trauma, but what other explanation is there? Though I’ve been party to plenty of my own horror, I can’t imagine giving up my humanity in response.”

Tina nodded solemnly. “Me neither. Well, assuming the Percheron survives whatever the galaxy has to throw at us, she has the rest of eternity to figure it out. That’s something most of us won’t have the luxury of doing.”

“I’m well aware.”

Spoiler alert: This is the beginning of the 9th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

Evangeline Adeler sat in a booth in the West Wind Bistro on the 50th floor of the Zephyrus Tower, of the Four Winds Complexium, on a planet named Secundus. Though the enormous towers, and recently added annex, offered a score of places to eat, the restaurant of her choosing had a special place in her heart. By chance that day, the maître d’ (or whatever they were called in the local parlance) had offered Eva and her companions the same booth at which she’d first met Reveki Kitsune, and hashed out a fateful deal along with Cane Venator. That memory seemed like a lifetime ago, unlike the menu, which didn’t appear to have changed at all in the last two years.

Fortunately for her and the two people seated with her, the perennial meal items were mostly excellent, including her favorite of Wolrasi steak, which in her estimation was a fine alien analog for beef. One of her companions, an Eaglite named Ikari, seemed particularly pleased with his sweet-node casserole, which was likely as close to cottage pie as one could get three hundred light-years away from Earth. The other, Arianna Ferro, had no use for food in her android form, but had ordered something small anyway so as not to appear as such. Such caution was probably unwarranted, as Ikari had chosen to wear his traditional gi top, hakama pants, and a katana, easily distracting anyone from the two women with him.

Ikari had been sent by the leader of the Eagle, Daimyo Kitsune, as the eyes and ears of their civilization. Since the population of the asteroid had integrated themselves into the community of Primus, Secundus, and Matesia, the Daimyo had instituted a robust intelligence program, to include deep-cover agents as far away as six hundred light-years. Ikari would have failed miserably if he was meant to be undercover that day, but was still tasked with keeping Daimyo apprised of local events. However, he had hinted that he’d been involved with clandestine operations nearby, most likely in response to recent dealings of both the Rigby Corporation and the Matesian Syndicate.

Though every visit to the Complexium was an opportunity to take in the latest gossip, the trio was there that day in response to a cryptic message Eva had received. The sender, Verisimilitude Android Designs, had requested her presence at the bistro, for assistance with an unspecified problem they were having. Whey they hadn’t asked for her to meet them at their manufacturing facility and front office in the annex, she could only guess, as no further information had been offered. Ari speculated that they were trying to drum up sales with an old-fashioned corporate dinner date. Unfortunately for VAD, the crew of the Reckless Faith had learned how to replicate their own androids to the same exacting standards that the company had previously provided. Still, Eva and Ari had the time to kill, so they figured they’d let themselves get wined-and-dined at someone else’s expense.

While waiting for their mystery guest, Ari had set up a signal-jammer under the table to ensure that the conversation at their booth would remain private. Ikari used the opportunity to dominate the conversation with complaints about what he and his group of spies had found out about Rigby and the Syndicate. Though their corner of the galaxy had been spared from the belligerence of the New Rakhar Empire, both Rigby and the Syndicate had been working on deals with them to ensure their own survival, should the situation change. Eva and Ari, who had top-secret access to the Eagle’s scuttlebutt, already knew all of this, but allowed Ikari to rant. Normally quite reserved, the man seemed to need the chance to speak his mind to someone other than his boss.

“Anyway,” Ikari was saying, “no one really believes that the Rakhar will honor any deal with Rigby. They’re probably just trying to buy some time to plan their next move. The Syndicate, on the other hand, has enough of a clandestine network set up to potentially survive even a full-on invasion.”

Eva said, “In a timeline where a lone Kira’To, or a Chimera, can cause a star to go supernova, and wipe from the face of the galaxy an entire star system, one has to wonder why Rigby, the Syndicate, or the Rakhar should pretend their own shit matters at all.”

“You could say the same for the Eagle,” replied Ari.

“Except that the Eagle remains under the protection of Aquila.”

Ikari frowned. “Your attitude continues to confuse me, Adeler. Your loyalty to the Eagle is beyond reproach, but lately you’ve been nothing but pessimistic about everything. Though I understand that the disappearance of Reveki Kitsune and your other friends bothers you, I also don’t understand why you can’t focus on the situation at hand.”

“Perhaps my patience has waned after so much strife. I’d prefer either peace, or direct action, to sitting around waiting for the Rakhar to make a move. I’d at least feel better if Maoko had been able to contact Reveki and confirm her survival, if not her location.”

A figure approached the booth, and sat down at the table without being invited. They were wearing a gray robe with the hood pulled up, making it difficult at first to make out much detail about them, other than they were a fair-skinned humanoid. When they spoke, the voice sounded female, and the language was English.

“I apologize in advance,” she began, “but I’m not really a representative of VAD; at least not as an employee. When I reveal who I am, you’ll understand why I lied to you. I also know you’re going to want proof of my identity.”

Eva shrugged. “Go on, then.”

Their guest pulled her hood back a few inches so they could get a better look at her face. It was no one they recognized.

“I am Shang Fuyue.”

Eva and Ari were stunned for a moment. Ikari seemed confused.

“You’re certainly right about needing proof,” said Ari. “Last we knew, Fuyue was atomized below the surface of Tartarus. But the fact that you’re an android hints at what happened.”

“Or what you claim has happened,” said Eva.

“Wait a minute,” began Ikari. “You’re talking about the Sortarius guy who was involved in your last two excursions? The guy from Anachronia?”

“I was never a resident of Anachronia, but that’s close enough,” she replied.

“All right then,” said Eva. “Let’s hear your story. You know, of course, that our bullshit detectors are running full-blast, and that Ari is a walking quantum computer, so good luck.”

“I’ll try to give you the short version for now. After being killed on Tartarus, Kheiron saved my consciousness and kept me in a sort of limbo, halfway between this plane of existence and the True Nature. Though I could see the infinite network of interconnected threads, and the energy that binds them, I couldn’t interact with it. At first, I thought Kheiron was punishing me for some perceived offense. He barely communicated with me, and when he did it was just frustrating half-sentences like ‘you must be patient,’ or, ‘it’s not your time yet.’ It would have been hell, except that I had no real way of judging the passage of time.”

The waiter approached to see if they needed anything, so Ari waved him off. The woman continued.

“Eventually, I found myself in a room that turned out to be here, in the Complexium, at VAD. My consciousness had been deposited in this body, much to the surprise of both myself and the lab technicians who were about to test its basic functions. I managed to have the wherewithal to keep my mouth shut, which led them to believe something had gone wrong with my language circuits or whatnot. Fortunately, it was nearly the end of their shift, so they resolved to fix me tomorrow and left me there. I managed to grab this robe and slip away. It seems like only a matter of time before they realize I’m missing.”

“What kind of OS do you have?” asked Ari.

“I overheard them say that my brain is an Umberian quantum orb.”

“But how? We never gave VAD the schematics for an orb. It was installed after they built her chassis and we took custody of it.”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Perhaps spyware,” said Eva. “They could have set up Christie’s body to transmit data back to them without our knowledge. We can worry about that later, though. How did you learn how to control your new body so quickly?”

“I seem to be operating from a simplified interface, compared to the full access that I remember hearing about from Miss Ferro, Christie Tolliver, and Faen Leonid. Right now, I feel just like a normal humanoid, except I’ve not been this gender before. If I had woken up somewhere other than a test station at VAD, I might actually think I was flesh-and-blood. It’s rather confusing.”

Ikari said, “If VAD was spying on Tolliver, then they might know enough about Fuyue’s story to make a convincing doppelganger. I don’t think we should trust her.”

“What would they have to gain by that?” asked Ari. “Rhetorical question, I know. For now, the most logical thing to do is take our new friend back to the Reckless Faith and scan the ever-living fuck out of her until we’re satisfied she’s not a spy. Then we can worry about whether or not it’s really Fuyue in there.”

“I’ll cooperate with whatever you want to do,” she said. “However, I have to know, what has become of the Antares and her crew?”

“They’re fine,” began Eva. “That’s all you need to know for now. I also have one question for you: do you know what happened to Reveki Kitsune and the crewmembers of the Reckless Faith after the destruction of the prison?”

“Only that Kheiron said he’d sent them to be in the care of Andromeda. I guessed he was referring to another Kira’To, but he could have been referring to a location instead.”

“So they’re alive?”

“In some capacity, probably.”

Ari said, “That’s better than the jack-shit we knew before.”

“If I had full access to this android’s systems, I might be able to remember something else. Until then, I suggest we get back to the Reckless Faith. This place is crawling with security guards.”

“We noticed. We thought it was in response to increased criminal activity.”

Eva’s PDA beeped at her, so she took it out of her pocket. “Good news. Daimyo Kitsune reports that Maoko has presented him with a drawing that she believes shows Reveki’s POV.”

“It’s about time. Fuyue, if that is really you, let’s get you out of here. You’ll be our guest on the Faith while the rest of us return to the Eagle to see if this latest drawing has any useful information. Then, I’m going to get all up in that quantum brain of yours.”

_____

The reading room in the library on the Eagle was a well-appointed and comfortable space, replete with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather chairs, mahogany desks, and small lamps at each place a person would care to sit. It also had a kettle with a small selection of tea, which Maoko had taken advantage of when she arrived. When Evangeline found her there, the older woman had gathered a stack of ancient books, as well as a PDA, and was deep in concentration reading a document on the device.

Eva had been there before, to do research of her own, and it appeared Maoko was doing the same. She acknowledged Eva’s presence with a simple nod before returning her attention to the PDA. Eva made herself a cup of tea, then sat across the desk from Maoko. Her calmness belied the years of strife she’d experienced before the leadership of the Eagle changed hands.

“Tomo told me you’d be here,” Eva said.

“Indeed. The image I was compelled to draw also came with a message, the name ‘Andromeda,’ whispered in a voice without tone or timbre. I was compelled to come here, to see what the archives might reveal.”

“How’s that going?”

“So far, any legends that may have been recorded here have been elusive. As I’m sure Miss Soryu has told you, a great deal of these tomes have not been captured electronically.” She patted the stack of books. “Answers may yet be found.”

“We can certainly help with that. Do you have the drawing with you?”

Opening a folder, Maoko passed a piece of paper to her. On it, was an immaculately-rendered scene of a night sky, bordered by pine trees, in Maoko’s usual chiaroscuro style. Eva took care not to smudge the carbon as she examined it.

“I have strong sense that Vecky was safe when she beheld this scene, but I have no idea how long ago it was.”

“I don’t recognize the constellations here. We can input the pattern into the computer of the Reckless Faith, but finding a match to a planet in the known galaxy based off of the location of a handful of stars is probably going to take a long time, and a ton of processing power.”

“Discovering that the Terrans named a constellation Andromeda was easy enough. I would start with those stars.”

Eva nodded. “It’s a good idea. I do have to wonder which Kira’To gave you the name, though.”

Maoko smiled. “It could only be Aquila.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. But don’t worry about it right now.” Eva took a picture of the drawing with her PDA. “We’ll begin our search immediately. Please let us know if you receive another vision.”

“Of course, child.”

Eva excused herself, and walked through the enormous main hall of the library and on to the street. She crossed through a park, which had been transformed from nothing but dirt to a lush garden, and the fountain at its center, which had been dry for so long, had been returned to its former glory. Eaglite citizens filled the area, enjoying what it had to offer, and Eva’s heart swelled with joy. It was just one of many examples of how the Eagle had come back from the brink of disaster. Eva’s unique role in all of that earned her nods of appreciation from a few people as she made her way through the park.

It didn’t take long for her to get to the main hangar, where the Reckless Faith and the Fox were parked. She looked longingly at the latter ship as she passed by the landing platform, then boarded the Faith. After making her way to the bridge, she was met by Ari, Dana Andrews, and Jim Penrose. The android claiming to be Fuyue was also there, but she was staring blankly ahead and didn’t acknowledge Eva.

“Where’s Zukova?” Eva asked.

“She’s visiting the Complexium,” replied Dana. “Don’t worry, she’s got that Eaglite warrior with her.”

“What’s going on with our alleged Sortarii friend?”

“I’ve got an automated diagnostics program running on her right now,” said Ari. “She’s in standby mode. If there’s nothing unusual or suspicious with her when that’s done, then I’ll try syncing with her.”

“Did you get anything from Maoko?” asked Dana.

“Yes,” began Eva. “Here, I’ll upload it.”

She pulled out her PDA, synced it with the Faith’s system, and put the drawing on the main screen.

“She certainly is talented,” said Jim.

“She also said the name Andromeda came to her at the same time as the image. If this scene is from somewhere in that constellation, we should be able to find it.”

Dana worked at her console for a moment. “According to our database, there are 179 stars within the IAU boundaries of the constellation, not including, of course, the Andromeda galaxy.”

Eva sat at the console next to Dana. “Considering what we know about how Greek legends ended up throughout our galaxy, I think we can focus on the stars best known to antiquity.”

“Then that narrows it down to sixteen. If we cross-reference that with the astronomical data we’ve gained from other civilizations, we can see that eleven of those have habitable planets in orbit.”

Ari said, “Once I plug the variables in, it will take me five or ten minutes to check those stars for matching asterisms. If we rule them out, then we’ll expand our search. I only hope the clue ‘Andromeda’ isn’t a red herring.”

“I don’t trust Kheiron,” said Eva, “but what Maoko heard may have come from Aquila. Anyway, let’s focus on trying to confirm if this person really is Fuyue, then start on our search.”

“Has there been any change in the Daimyo’s commitment?” asked Jim.

“No, he’s still willing to crew the Fox and have it accompany us.”

“That reminds me,” began Dana. “We heard back from the Antares. While Captain Lesath didn’t reveal their location, they are willing to come and get Fuyue, so they can’t be that far away. They’re awaiting confirmation of his identity.”

“Good.” Eva looked at the drawing on the screen. “Hang in there, Vecky. We’re coming.”

Spoiler alert: This is the beginning of the 9th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/10/17/reckless-faith-ix-prologue/

Reveki Kitsune stood in a shower stall within the quarters of a crewmember of the Kestrel, reveling in the deluge of warm water that streamed down her body. After six weeks of living like a vagrant on the surface of Ibnal’saffar, it was the best shower of her life. The Kestrel was a well-appointed ship, if a little rough around the edges, and offered amenities that she’d managed to take for granted before being stranded. The shower was one such thing, and the first of which she’d taken advantage after Captain Strouthionum and his crew had welcomed her and her group on board.

Vecky lingered in the shower far longer than necessary before finally relenting to move on to other tasks. She toweled herself off, and donned a light but comfortable set of workout clothing that had been left out for her. The quarters belonged to a Carcali woman named Ember, who she had met briefly before being allowed to freshen herself up in private. Vecky looked around the room more carefully than earlier, and found a brush to fix her hair. Though she was loathe to put her boots back on, it was the only footwear available. Luckily, she found a can of aerosol disinfectant and gave them a firm blast. Hopefully that would kill most of the bacterial colonies that had taken up residence within.

The rest of her clothes had been left out in the corridor, with the promise that they would be laundered. When she exited the quarters, the pile of odoriferous articles was gone. Her next stop was the galley, where she was expecting to find her companions, and indeed, all of them were there, wearing similar clothing to hers. Wonderful smells met her nose, and she made a bee-line to a yutha machine along the far bulkhead. It was the real thing, and after one sip, she was giddily happy. Next to the brewer, there was a refrigerator with a glass door. Inside were about a dozen pre-made sandwiches. Though she couldn’t read the language on their wrappers, she was too hungry to care much about their contents. Lastly, she grabbed a paper plate and a napkin, and sat down at a steel table next to Cane.

“I think you’re gonna want to microwave that,” he said, pointing at the sandwich.

“I don’t care,” she replied, unwrapping it. “Anything but game meat and wild mushrooms.”

The sandwich consisted of cold cuts and cheese, or an approximation thereof. It, too, made her happy. Finally able to pay full attention to what was going on around her, she munched on her food and looked around the room. Cane, and the rest of her companions, were also showered and had changed into borrowed clothing. Captain Strouthionum, or Strouth as his crew called him, was seated at a nearby table with John, Ray, and Richter. Also at her table were Kyrie and Malthus. The Kau’Rii named Madet sat as his own table, clutching a mug of yutha. A wall-mounted monitor nearby offered information on what the Kestrel was doing. Again, she couldn’t read the language, but it seemed to indicate that they were in FTL, heading back to the Flying Serpent. Vecky had heard a little bit about the caravan before being offered Ember’s quarters, but at the moment, John was telling Strouth and Madet about their last adventure, and had gotten as far as the flooding of the Thesprotian’s cavern in the narrative. Vecky was curious to see how much of the truth John was revealing, and listened in.

It took John another twenty minutes to finish the story. In Vecky’s estimation, he hadn’t left anything out, except for the part about the mountain temple and the statue of the Kira’To within. Strouth and Madet had remained riveted throughout the retelling, and at its conclusion, both men stood up to refresh their beverages. Upon their return, Strouth sat down and spoke.

“So you have no idea why Kheiron sent you to Ibnal’saffar?”

“I think that planet had some sort of significance to him, or that we were meant to find something important there. If the latter, he left us ill-prepared to find it. As far as we know, he could have sent us to several different locations we already knew about, so we have to consider that this may have been a punishment for some unknown offense. Though as you may have gathered from our story, we were never anything but cooperative with him.”

“Around here, the Kira’To are nothing but myths and legends. Some on our route might be interested in your experiences, but not us; at least, none that I know of on the Serpent.”

“It’s probably for the best,” said Ray.

John said, “You said your next stop, after refilling your water reserves, is Tengshe. How long of a journey is that?”

Strouth gestured toward the bow. “Three weeks, assuming we go full speed.”

“Will there be an opportunity to hire a freelance vessel once we arrive?”

“With what? You offered us nothing to scoop you off of that planet.”

“A gesture we appreciate,” began Ray, “and something we’re still wondering about. There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch. You must think my people have something of value.”

“I can understand why your experiences may have made you a cynic. The Serpent is something different in our little galaxy, Mister Bailey. It is our hope, and nothing else, that within the time it takes to get to Tengshe, some of you might be enticed to take up residence here permanently.”

The hair on the back of Vecky’s neck stood up, and she resisted the urge to speak. Cane noticed that she’d tensed up, and put his hand on her knee under the table.

“Captain Strouth,” he said, “after so much time living in the field, a life on the Serpent, such as you’ve described it, sounds appealing. We’ll keep an open mind.”

“That’s all we’re asking.”

Richter, who until then had kept his gaze fixed on the empty plate in front of him, spoke. “What’s the weapons policy on the Serpent?”

John glanced at him. “You’ll have to forgive him, he’s our head of security.”

Strouth shrugged. “Not at all. Madet?”

“Based on what I saw in the cargo bay,” Madet began, “your pistols are all fine. Your rifles, and whatever Mister Bailey had on him, will have to stay in an armory, whether the Kestrel’s or another. If you disembark on Tengshe, you can take them with you.”

John nodded. “All right, then. I think the only thing left to ask is where we are. I’m going to list some colloquial names for star systems, so please stop me if there’s anything you recognize.”

“Shoot,” said Strouth.

“Primus, Secundus, or Matesia, in the Vulpecula system.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Nor for me,” added Madet.

“Enif, or Epsilon Pegasi,” continued John.

“We’ve heard stories of the Pegasus constellation, as relatively close to here, but nothing that would correspond to that name.”

“You got me,” said Strouth.

John grunted. “Okay. Leda, and/or Dellal.”

Strouth brightened up. “Dhil Al Thaelab?”

His guests sighed in relief, including a laugh of joy from Vecky. John looked at his companions to share in the feeling, then turned back to his host.

“How far is it from Tengshe?”

Madet poked at his PDA. “Seven-hundred and sixty-nine light-years.”

John hugged Ray, and Cane threw his arm around Vecky, pulling her toward him. Kyrie offered Malthus a high-five, but the latter man didn’t understand the gesture.

Strouth raised an eyebrow. “I take it that’s good news?”

“Yes,” replied John. “Assuming we can find a SRC transceiver on Tengshe, our allies can be there in… well, quickly.”

Cane looked at his PDA. “Twelve days for the Fox. Far fewer for the Faith, of course. That is, if they’re not kicking around Anachronia or somewhere equally distant.”

“Then there’s hope you’ll reunite with your allies soon,” said Strouth. “I’m happy for you. Hopefully you’ll be able to contain your excitement for the three weeks it’ll take us to get there, not counting the additional trips the Kestrel has left to resupply the Serpent with water.”

The door to the corridor opened, and Ash stuck his head in.

“Sorry to bother you, Cap,” he said. “The laundry is done.”

“Great. Now, don’t forget the cover story we discussed. I’ll leave you to get dressed, if you find your clothing to be salvageable. If not, we’ve got some generic spacer overalls that I’m sure will fit your emaciated frames. Speaking of which, I suggest you visit each of the many food kiosks on our main concourse. Part of the Serpent’s charm is its food. Anyway, meet us back on the bridge when you’re done.”

More pleasantries were exchanged as Vecky and her contingent excused themselves from their hosts, and back-tracked to the quarters they’d been offered. They each found their clothes thrown up against the bulkhead in a heap; wrinkled but clean and dry. Vecky entered Ember’s room and gratefully donned her items. She would have felt completely like her old self, if not for the lack of her weapons. Her apprehension that the residents of the Serpent were a cult of some variety lingered in her mind. If what Captain Strouth said was true, and they were given their sidearms back before disembarking the Kestrel, then her fears would be mostly mollified.

Returning to the central corridor, she waited until all of her friends had gathered. Though none of them had yet been to the bridge, the simple layout of the ship made it easy to find. There, Strouth, Madet, Ash, and Ember manned their stations, and on the viewscreen before them, the Flying Serpent had come into view.

Vecky simultaneously scoffed and frowned at the sight. Her first impression was that of a junkyard, a coincidence of space garbage held together by nothing but a rather generous definition of gravity. As they drew closer, she could see that there was a method in the madness, with the rakish concentration of seemingly random ships at the center balanced out by larger vessels along the perimeter. The collective mass was missing an obvious chunk off of its starboard bow, a gap for which the Kestrel was headed. Once Ember began to maneuver their ride to dock, the show was over. Strouth stood up.

“All right, then. I’m going to turn you over to the welcoming committee; or that is to say, a man who fancies himself as such. Let’s get you to the armory first.”

Strouth led the group down the main corridor to the aft cargo bay, which is where they were first relieved of their weapons after being evacuated from Ibnal’saffar. From a room to the side, Ash distributed their sidearms to them, including Vecky’s Legionnaire, and her bayonet. As she stowed them, she kept on eye on Cane, and was relieved to see that his fusion pistol was returned to him. The others checked and charged their weapons with practiced ease before returning them to their holsters. As expected, there was no discussion of what would happen to their rifles and Ray’s shotgun, and no one pressed the issue.

“Better now?” Cane asked her.

“Yes. Thanks for staying on my frequency.”

“Of course. I’m cautious, but optimistic. Rifles or not, they gave me back Lammy, so woe betide anyone who tries to indoctrinate us.”

Vecky looked at him blankly. “You named your pistol after a prostitute?”

“Just the expensive one.”

They heard a clank and a thud, and after looking at the wall-mounted console nearby, Ash spoke.

“We’ve got a good seal. If you’ll proceed to the airlock, we’ll get you on board.”

Already familiar with its location, the team gathered by the hatch. Passing through the set of double doors, they found themselves facing a large interior space, as tall as it was wide, and long enough to prevent them from being able to see the other end. A thousand smells hit Vecky’s nose: most pleasant, but also the distinctive aroma of recycled oxygen. Before them, a unique Rakhar stood, smiling broadly at them.

His most obvious feature was that he was completely hairless, or at least, Vecky presumed him to be, as he was wearing pants. Also unseen in any Rakhar, to their knowledge, were tattoos, which covered every visible inch of his skin below the jawline. Vecky might have tried to make some sense of the images inscribed on his body, if not totally distracted by her surroundings. The Rakhar greeted them.

“Welcome to the Flying Serpent. I’m Biggles, and I’ll be your host and guide.”

John and Ray stifled a laugh.

“Where were you when we needed you last Saturday?” asked John.

“I understood that reference,” said Kyrie.

“So I understand you’re from Caracal, seeking passage to Tengshe?” asked Biggles.

“That’s right,” replied Richter. “We were in quarantine on the Kestrel, but their doctor gave us clearance to depart today.”

“Lovely! Well, I can’t wait to show you around, and help you get some quarters for the next few weeks. No baggage?”

“We were told we could buy whatever we needed on the Serpent,” said Ray.

“Indeed! Follow me, please.”

The Rakhar turned around and walked away, so the group trailed behind him. Biggles was prattling on about how great the Serpent was, so Vecky tuned him out and began to scope the place out. Her first impressions reminded her strongly of New Solace Marketplace, sharing with it its random configuration of bars, casinos, restaurants, food kiosks, and who knew what else within the shadows. It doubtlessly bore little resemblance to the space station it used to be, but had been adapted to its new role quite well.

The section they were in at the moment was dominated by docking stations, and Biggles was explaining that most of the airlocks they could see on either side were occupied by ships that had taken up residence over the last hundred years. Those vessels primarily served as living quarters, offering rents ranging from a pittance to quite a bit more, depending on how opulent they’d originally been. In any case, they provided easy access to the main concourse. Vecky did feel safer here than she had at New Solace, though she knew that her perceptions may not have reflected the reality there.

Biggles paused at a convergence of large corridors, a cruciform feature she had noticed from their approach to the Serpent in the Kestrel not long ago. A shorter structure had been laid out at a right angle to the central one. Biggles told them that both sides had served administration and engineering roles, both of which were still present in some capacity. The port and starboard ends of that section were where they could find two of the four ships that provided propulsion for the Serpent. Despite his initial enthusiasm, at that point Biggles seemed to run out of things to say. John spoke next.

“Have our living quarters been predetermined?” he asked.

Biggles said, “Newcomers are given basic accommodations regardless of their means. I can help you negotiate something better, if you have something to trade for it.”

“We might. We’ll accept the simpler rooms for now, though.”

“Just one of those pistols could get you something much nicer, if you can part with it.”

“We’ll hold on to them, thanks,” said Richter.

“Very well. The Tempest, a former Mirachian hydrogen trawler, has basic rooms available. I’ll take you there now.”

The group followed the Rakhar as they back-tracked halfway down the main drag. They wove themselves past a small crowd that had gathered at a food cart in apparent anticipation of a fresh batch of whatever its owner was cooking up, then passed through an airlock, entering the central corridor of a ship that was in desperate need of custodial services. Years of grime had accumulated on the edges of the passage, and several overhead lights were dead or working on it. A smell that reminded Vecky of rotting sweet-node husks permeated the air. After only a few steps, she found that the soles of her boot were sticky.

“Lovely,” she muttered to herself.

Biggles must have noticed the frowns on the faces of his guests. “You get what you pay for.”

“Is there no security here?” asked Richter.

“No. You, and other residents, are free to come and go as you please.”

“Do the doors lock?”

“Of course.” Biggles accessed a nearby wall-mounted console with a cracked screen. “It looks like 114 and 115 are available. Let’s check them out.”

The rooms were on the same deck. They across the hall from each other, but otherwise were identical; both offered two bunk beds, four wall lockers, and a basic lavatory. The mattresses were unused, but dingy after years of storage. Inside the lockers, they found vacuum-sealed blankets and pillows.

“This will do fine, for now,” said John.

“Good. If you need me, you can usually find me at the Vipers Pit. Enjoy your stay!”

Biggles sauntered off down the hallway, and disappeared into the airlock. Vecky had nothing to say about the distribution of rooms and bunks; privacy had ceased to be a concern long ago. Her group claimed beds and set them up, then gathered together in the hall.

“This place has a weird vibe,” said Malthus.

“I agree,” said Kyrie. “There’s something off about the whole place.”

Ray nodded. “I think the fact that we were so easily welcomed here has something to do with it. I feel like a calf being fattened up before the slaughter.”

“They let us keep our sidearms,” said Richter. “As long as nobody wanders off alone, I don’t think we’re in a whole hell of a lot of danger.”

John said, “And yet, Captain Strouth insisted that we not tell anyone we were picked up from Ibnal’saffar. That little detail seems to have gotten lost within our enthusiasm to get off that rock. I was dying to coax the reason why out of him, but I didn’t want to jeopardize our chance to evacuate.”

“Same here,” said Ray. “What we do know is that the Serpent is waiting for them to replenish their water supply from the planet. That means everyone here knows what the Kestrel is doing. I also didn’t buy his explanation that potable water was too expensive to obtain on Caracal; I mean, is it possible that such a resource is so closely guarded by the planetary government that they couldn’t have gotten it from any random lake?”

“We don’t know anything about Caracal, so yes, it’s possible. But I agree that it’s suspicious. In any case, we should all stick to the cover story we agreed on. In fact, we should establish a story for all of us about why we’re seeking passage to Tengshe before we leave the Tempest. Let’s not let ourselves get caught in a lie, should anyone here be paying that much attention to what we say.”

“Since we seem to have free rein on this ship,” began Vecky, “then let’s explore it. We can figure out our cover story while we do that.”

“Agreed.”

Cane said, “There’s also the matter of funding. I noticed a few places out on the main drag that were probably gambling dens, including the Vipers Pit that Biggles mentioned, as well as at least one money lender. If I can get some credit here, then I can convert that to something fungible.”

“Be careful,” said Vecky. “Win too much at once, and you’ll get yourself killed.”

Cane winked. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I can play the long game.”

Spoiler alert: This is the beginning of the 9th book in the Reckless Faith series.

Prologue

The Flying Serpent was a haphazard collection of interconnected spacecraft, populated by a diverse range of people who only occasionally tried to kill each other. An interstellar caravan of sorts, only four of its dozens of ships were capable of FTL travel, and acted as ad hoc engines for the entire claptrap structure. The feat of keeping the four systems in sync without tearing the whole thing apart could only be described as witchcraft, though the Serpent’s top speed was a relatively common 900 c.

For a hundred years, the Serpent had lazily traveled a sinuous path from Tengshe, down to Kuisu, up to Almach, and back to the start, visiting as many as ten stars and the planets they hosted during its long journey. Its residents rarely sought to settle on any of the habitable worlds they reached, though of course they would be allowed to if that’s what they wanted. Instead, the vast majority chose to stick with the life they’d been offered as nomads. Though each individual had their own reason for eschewing a more independent life, the assimilation of the ship that its crew had once called home was usually enough to keep them there, even if said ship was more of a liability than an asset to the whole.

Indeed, most of the ships that were connected to the Serpent ate up more resources than they provided, but such a truth was inevitable. All stardrives required fuel, and each vessel a life support system, neither of which came without a cost. However, when assembled together as a mobile space station, the latter could be handled by ships with the most efficient systems, providing a habitable environment far beyond the confines of their original structures.

What could not be sustained without trade with the many worlds of Andromeda were such things as fuel, food, potable water, and ancillaries like medical supplies and other sundries. It was for that reason that the Serpent maintained a vibrant trade with the planets they encountered. What they had to offer in exchange was constantly in flux; currency was irrelevant, and anything else fungible was a matter of perspective. Still, whether it was knowledge, technology, or items procured by opportunity, the residents of the Serpent had been able to maintain an effective economy with the rest of the constellation, and for a relatively long time. Whether or not such a stasis could be maintained was impossible to predict.

Madet Peschiri was a Kau’Rii with an important role on the Serpent. Though one might call him chief engineer, such a moniker would imply some sort of hierarchy or chain of command, neither of which the Serpent had. Instead, he was simply known as the man who could fix your problem, or keep the caravan from flying apart at the seams during FTL operations. As the former crewmember of one of the four ships with a functional stardrive, his experience and expertise were unquestionable, and he enjoyed a freedom of movement throughout the structure that was unique. That day, he had been called to the Fortuna, an otherwise unremarkable former cargo vessel that was crammed nearly halfway into the body of the Serpent. What made this particular ship so important to the rest was that it had massive reservoirs of water in aluminum-walled tanks, themselves the result of the mission it was on when its crew decided to join the Serpent some 80 years prior. The Fortuna’s problem, which was about to become Madet’s problem in an awful hurry, was that both reservoirs had been compromised somehow, and at least one of them was venting H2O into space.

Madet made his way first from his own ship, the Kestrel, through the central corridor (itself once an actual, boring old space station), to the Fortuna. He had been fast asleep when the call for help came in, and it was with blurry vision that he stumbled past the typical arrangement of carousing, gambling, side-deals, and hookah vapor on his way to the allegedly stricken vessel. Pausing only long enough to procure a beverage with a powerful stimulant from one of the Serpent’s ubiquitous food kiosks, he had perked up a bit by the time he passed through the open airlock and into the Fortuna. He was met on the top deck by the ship’s former captain, a Matesian woman named Sinfonietta, who was too drunk most of the time to care about anything beyond her own base needs. True to form, she was unsteady on her feet, and slurred her words. How her liver had survived for over a century of this sort of abuse was a mystery to Madet.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered, rubbing the deep wrinkles that surrounded her eye sockets.

“Really? I thought I’d rallied myself as fast as reasonably possible. What’s going on?”

“Tanks one and two have been ruptured. Tank one was open to vacuum, but has since sealed itself. Tank two is flowing into void spaces within the hull, and we can’t figure out how to stop it. Our lower deck got halfway flooded before we were able to seal those chambers.”

“Sounds like quite a mess. Micrometeoroids might be to blame, but it’s weird that only one of the two tanks was opened to space. What’s the state of your sensors?”

“Passive sensors are tied into the Serpent’s grid, as usual. Active sensors have been offline for 80 years, you know that already.”

Giving her a split-second glance of annoyance, Madet accessed the nearest wall-mounted console. “Anything that penetrated any surface of the Serpent would’ve been logged, and an alert sent out.”

“Ideally.”

He scrolled through the information available to him on the screen. “That didn’t happen.”

Sinfonietta shrugged. “This entire place is held together with little more than baling wire and good intentions. It seems we should focus on how to fix the problem, rather than obsessing over how it happened.”

“After so many decades, how can you say that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Since you want to speak in terms of decades, when was the last time the Serpent engaged an active threat?”

He returned his full attention to the older woman. “I meant that smaller problems can be prevented. You still have some responsibility to your ship, regardless of whether or not you still consider yourself to be captain. I can’t be expected to perform preventative maintenance on all eighty-seven ships in this contraption.”

“You’re here now.”

The next two hours were torture for Madet, as a lingering headache soon progressed into a full-blown hangover. His inspection of the Fortuna, which included launching a drone to examine its exterior, had brought him to a deeply unsettling conclusion: the damage was most likely the result of sabotage. If true, this would be the most serious security incident to ever happen aboard the Serpent, outside of the occasional stabbing or bullet to the head. He would have to take his findings to the captain of the Kestrel and the other three functioning ships, a group that was the closest thing to a government that the Serpent had.

Before that could happen, he arranged for repairs to the tanks, thankfully a rather simple endeavor. The bad news, other than trying to figure out who’d done it, was that thousands of gallons of potable water had been lost, most of it being the volume that had flowed into the bowels of the Fortuna. That lot would have to be pumped into space, as it was horribly contaminated with waste, oil residue, and who knew what else, and they didn’t have the equipment to re-purify it.

Even though all he wanted to do was take a shower and collapse back into bed, Madet alerted the captains and met them in the Kestrel’s conference room. It only took ten minutes for the two men and two women to gather, and then Madet began his briefing. When he was done, all four captains had questions for him. The first came from a Caracali man named Strouthionum, or Strouth for short, Madet’s own captain and one of his oldest friends.

“Is there any way either of those power conduits could have simply overloaded?” he asked. “The Fortuna isn’t exactly state-of-the-art.”

“Yes,” replied Madet. “However, to have both fail within five minutes of each other, in locations that were perfect to rupture the tanks, is highly suspicious. Add to that the fact that the Fortuna’s maintenance logs show these particular conduits to be very reliable. The last one that blew out was over fifteen years ago.”

“We can’t trust the completeness of the Fortuna’s logs,” said Shijiu, a Tengshein woman and captain of the Corvette. “Even still, without knowing how old any of those conduits are, any one of them could be on the verge of failure.”

“It’s too great of a coincidence to be ignored.”

The next one to speak was Captain Alrisha of the Flying Fish, a Mirachian man almost as old as Sinfonietta. “The Fortuna is freely accessible to anyone. If this is a crime, it may be impossible to solve. Sure, a few may cooperate, Sinfonietta probably won’t care one way or the other, but good luck getting anything out of our people.”

“True, but the loss of our water supply threatens everyone. Surely cooperation will come from a basic instinct for survival.”

“You would hope,” said Rylie, a Residerian woman and captain of the Lucky Star. “Peschiri, since you have a good reputation, I want you to take the lead on this investigation. Between the four of us, we’ll provide you some funds for the inevitable greasing of palms that will be necessary.”

Madet’s face was blank. “Okay.”

“As for the water problem, we have a choice to make. Backtrack to Caracal or proceed to Ibnal’saffar.”

Strouth said, “If we go back to Caracal, that’s at least three trips for the Kestrel, assuming anybody will sell us that much water. So we’re talking about landing fees, environmental fees, and then whatever we’re charged for the actual water. The supply on Ibnal’saffar would be free for the taking.”

“And what of the curse?” asked Alrisha.

“You already know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, and if the majority of our people did, too, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

“We’re also closer to Ibnal’saffar, and most people are asleep or will be soon. If the Kestrel leaves now, then we can accomplish the entire mission before anybody knows we’ve even done it.”

“Then we just have to deal with the fallout after.”

“Most should be mollified by all the money we saved,” said Rylie.

Strouth rubbed his forehead. “Look, is anyone here seriously suggesting we pass up free water because of superstition?”

“I’m just saying, there will be consequences,” grumbled Alrisha. “It may have been a long time since we last landed on that accursed planet, but superstition trumps memory every time.”

“Ultimately, so what? We’re heading to Tengshe next, which is a long enough journey for most to have forgotten about this supposed transgression. Madet, brief the crew and prepare for separation procedures.”

Madet said, “Do you want me to do that before or after I investigate the sabotage?”

“Forget about that. Time is of the essence.”

Half an hour later, Madet and his boss had accomplished all of the necessary steps to detach the Kestrel from its larger host, and proceed on its own to Upsilon Andromidae, better known as Ibnil’saffar, currently half a light-year away. Free from the Serpent, the Kestrel, a former Caracali military light cruiser, could travel at 1800 c, making each leg of their trip an acceptable two and a half hours. The ship’s cargo holds had been modified for exactly this sort of eventuality, including high-volume external pumping units, so loading up from a body of fresh water wouldn’t add much time.

Strouth, Madet, and the rest of the crew didn’t care about the supposed curse on the planet, or if they did, they hadn’t shared it with anyone. The legend hadn’t even originated on Caracal, even though it was the closest system, but from Tengshe, over five hundred light-years away. The people of Caracal stayed away from it not because of any superstition, but because something very bad had indeed happened there, resulting in an environmental disaster. What the crew of the Kestrel knew, and kept mostly to themselves, was that the true scope of radioactive contamination was limited to a few areas, leaving most of the planet perfectly safe to visit. Likewise, most freshwater lakes were safe, hence Strouth’s confidence in their mission.

Little was known about what had happened on Ibnil’saffar, as enough time had passed in the region for the original incident to have faded from common memory. It was certainly well before the Serpent was conceived. What they did know came from their own sensors, and the evidence was clear: sometime in the past few hundred years, every city or settlement on the planet was erased from existence by nuclear weapons. The Kestrel had found a dozen such sites, scattered around the globe, although there could have been more. How this had happened, and why, was a mystery. The war, such as it seemed to have been, happened long before Caracal achieved FTL.

Adding to the enigma was the lack of any archeological evidence of whatever civilization had been there. The crew of the Kestrel hadn’t done a lot of searching, as they were initially there just out of curiosity, but the sites they’d visited were bereft of any ruins or artifacts. Reporting their findings to the rest of the denizens of the Serpent served only to deepen rumors of a curse, hence their current situation.

Ibnil’saffar appeared to be an idyllic, blue-green world, normally the kind of place that would either host sentient beings or be ripe for colonization (or both). As expected, there were no other ships in orbit. Strouth already knew the coordinates of the lake he wanted, so he called them up on the viewscreen’s HUD for the benefit of Ember, his pilot. She guided the nimble craft through the atmosphere and toward the intended target.

“Zilch on the sensors,” said Madet. “Not even trace isotopes like last time.”

“The planet continues to heal itself,” replied Strouth.

The lake was on one of the northern continents, set among the foothills of a mountain range, and weather was fair and sunny there. Ember settled the Kestrel in at a cruising altitude of five thousand feet as they approached. A few seconds later, she spoke.

“I’m seeing a smoke column at zero-nine-seven.”

Strouth and Madet moved to look out of the starboard-side windows.

“It’s probably a wildfire from a lightning strike,” said Madet.

“Maybe,” began Strouth. “What did we have on Doppler?”

“No storm systems within a hundred miles of here.”

“Hmm. Could be nothing. Let’s check it out. Lieutenant, bring us around.”

Ember banked the ship and cut their airspeed. Circling around the grey wisp that spiraled into the sky, the spot on the ground became obvious as a single point within a sparse pine forest. Madet turned his attention to a console.

“It’s a campfire,” he said. “I can see the wood stacked into a pyramid from here.”

“Interesting. Do another circuit, then set us down if you don’t see anything else.”

“Roger,” said Ember.

Finding nothing, their pilot brought the Kestrel in for a landing in an open plain, not far from the tree line. Setting her down with barely a jostle, she set the engines to standby mode and unbuckled her safety belt. Strouth held up his hand.

“Man the guns,” he said. “I want the others on the ground with me.”

“You’re the boss.”

Ember sat at a console on the port side of the bridge, and the captain and Madet headed aft. As they traversed the central corridor, Strouth keyed his radio.

“All crew, arm yourselves and convene in the cargo bay.”

The pair descended a steel staircase, and found themselves in the bay. A minute later, they were joined by Ash, Ember’s brother, and Brittele, the sibling’s second-cousin-thrice-removed or something. They were armed with hefty projectile rifles, and offered two spares of the same to Madet and Strouth, who accepted them.

Brittele scratched his bald head. “Anyone stupid enough to light an obvious fire shouldn’t be much of a threat.”

Strouth nodded, checking the magazine. “Let’s hope.”

Ash hit the button to lower the ramp, and fresh air filled the cargo bay. The natural sounds and aromas of the planet were a pleasure to all of them, as such sensations were impossible on the Serpent. Ahead lay the apparent campsite.

“That’s far enough,” said a voice from the woods.

“I’m Captain Strouthionum. This is my ship, the Kestrel. We thought this planet was uninhabited, so we’re just curious as to who might be here.”

“Is it forbidden?”

“Not at all. In our little corner of the galaxy, it’s thought to be cursed. You may have noticed some evidence of a catastrophic war on your way down to the surface. Since that happened, most people just stay away.”

“What’s your business here?”

“We’re retrieving fresh water for our convoy.”

“Convoy? What’s your destination?”

“Tengshe.”

“Any chance you’d be willing to take on passengers?”

Strouth grunted. “Maybe. It would be a lot easier to decide if I could see who I was talking to.”

There was some shuffling within the brush, and a man materialized seemingly out of thin air. He was humanoid, with bedraggled appearance. His jacket and pants had seen better days, and he sported a beard and hair that were both in desperate need of better grooming. His hands were empty, though he could’ve been carrying a concealed weapon on his beltline. He walked to within ten meters of the crew, and smiled.

“My name is John Scherer.”