The Karasor Page 11

  Narikin told him. He also described the settings he’d used for the other pictures. He could have described every detail of the shutter stops and light levels but the machine stopped him. “Enough,” it said.

  “Last year, I asked for more film for my name day and my father sent one of the servants to your system to buy it.”

  “What was exchanged for the film?”

  “I believe it was copper and tin.”

  The machine clicked and whirred, withdrew its array of knives. “Enjoy the remainder of your journey.”

  It floated towards the door.

  “But what are you looking for?” Narikin asked, desperate to know.

  “We are looking for Zarktek.”

  “On a Pentī ship...?”

  “We are looking on every ship.”

  “Have they tried already?”

  “They have tried and failed.”

  The machine disappeared, whirring and clicking its way to the next cabin and the next until Narikin could no longer hear it. The guard closed the cabin door again and Narikin sat down on the bed, stunned and not a little frightened.

  Tried and failed...?

  Many of the Zarktek had taken shelter on the Second Sphere worlds of Enoth, Genetric and Rickoby before the end of the war. Their empires were gone, their cities, their legions and their power destroyed and as far as Narikin was aware, the humans would never support the return of their old slave masters. What had changed to give them hope?

  It wasn’t difficult for Narikin to find at least one reason: his people had led the war against the Zarktek and now they were disunited, arguing over the future of the empire, looking inwards rather than outwards. Was that enough to encourage the ancient enemy, draw them out of hiding and back to the Third Sphere? Were the human empires weakening too?

  Narikin looked at the picture of his father. What did the Shōgun know that other people didn’t? What was going on in that head of his? If his father knew about the storm to come, getting rid of his weakling son and replacing him with a warrior made more sense. It was an unpleasant conclusion but typical of his father’s pragmatism.

  After half an hour, the bell rang to announce the ship was underway again, heading up towards the gate to Awa.

  11 – Jamadar

  Namaqua knocked quietly and entered the cabin.

  “We have arrived in the Awa system, my lord. A scout is waiting to take you to the Kyzyl Kum.”

  Narikin jumped off the bed. “Who has come for me?”

  “War Master Jamadar, my lord.”

  Quickly, Narikin shoved his possessions into his ditty-bag while the steward watched. Last of all, he tucked the tantō-blade into his belt. He did a quick check of the cabin to make sure he had left nothing behind and then dragged his bag to the door.

  “I’m ready,” he said, excited to be leaving so soon.

  “The scout has landed on the stern deck, my lord; it will be a short walk.”

  “At least I won’t have to squeeze through the corridors again.”

  “No, my lord,” he agreed.

  It was quiet outside the cabin; no sights or sounds of the crew and all the doors were shut. The guard took his bag and accompanied them as they made their way to the end of the corridor and the stairwell in the next compartment.

  They climbed up into another empty space; no sight or sound of anyone – as though the way had been cleared so nobody would see him. Namaqua opened a pressure door to the outside and the guard went through first. Narikin followed and came out on the starboard side of the ship.

  The superstructure rose above them and stretched away to the bow and the stern. The bridge was three decks higher and he saw heads peering down from the captain’s quarterdeck. They disappeared as an order was barked and Narikin glimpsed an angry face, left eye covered in a patch, before it drew back quickly.

  Beyond the ship, hanging in the vacuum of space, was the Awa gate and Narikin felt his heart lift. The frame was blue-grey, without ornamentation, like a stone window on the Second Sphere. In the rectangle of blackness, he could see the star of Clundleby shining. Around the gate, the greens and yellows in the Great Barrier swirled like oil on water.

  He wished he could have paused and taken a picture but he could see the scout waiting for him. It was long with thin out-riders and a canopy over two seats in the bullet-shaped hull. It was also painted in shades of green. It had a longer range than a conventional launch and a Claught drive to give it as much speed as a larger vessel.

  Beside it was Subarsi’s brother, Jamadar, standing in full armour with his hands on his hips. He was not wearing a breathing mask so his face was visible beneath the lobster-tailed helmet. He looked exactly like Subarsi, except for a thick moustache rather than a beard.

  As Narikin approached, he could see the War Master’s expression. He did not look happy. Warriors from the Kyzyl Mazhalyk were standing in a circle around him. Even in their armour, they looked uncomfortable.

  “No honour guard for the Prince of Karasor?” Jamadar shouted loudly. “No captain or senior officers to bid him farewell?” He stared up at the bridge deck and shook his head. He turned in a circle, pinning each of the warriors in turn, daring them to draw their swords and attack. “I should have your heads,” he said.

  As Narikin entered the circle, Jamadar shouted at them, “On your knees; this is your Prince…”

  The warriors glanced at each other and then reluctantly knelt on the deck. Jamadar made a low bow as Narikin stopped in front of him. Namaqua and his guard joined the circle and knelt down beside them.

  “I do not know what demons possess this ship,” the War Master shouted, so loudly Narikin thought most of the ship could probably hear him. “But the Prince of Karasor should have more than low-born warriors to see him off; where are you Uigur? Where is your honour? I feel so ashamed.” He shook his head. “The reputation of the Kyzyl Mazhalyk is diminished this day.”

  Narikin bowed, “You honour me, War Master.”

  He refrained from saying a more elaborate ceremony was unnecessary; Jamadar was making a point that went far beyond mere protocol.

  “If you would care to board the scout, Prince,” Jamadar said gently. “We shall leave this pile of rust and go to the Kyzyl Kum where we know how to greet the son of the Shōgun properly.”

  “Thank you,” Narikin replied. He glanced back towards Namaqua, but the steward was on his knees, face down to the deck. He wanted to thank him but then wondered why – it wasn’t as though he’d done anything other than obey his captain.

  He picked up his ditty-bag from where the guard had dropped it and climbed onto the wing between the hull and the outrider. The canopy was back and he peered into the cockpit, not sure if he should sit at the back or the front.

  “If you would like to sit in front, my lord, you will have a fine view of the Third Sphere as we travel to Awa.”

  Narikin climbed inside, dragging the bag after him and pushed it down by his feet. Jamadar jumped into the seat behind, slid the canopy forward and clicked it into place.

  “My apologies; I did not mean to shout but Uigur is a fool and the hardest stone needs the heaviest blow.”

  “I’ve spent the last two days locked in my cabin; I’m just grateful you came to get me so soon.”

  “Is that so?” said the War Master ominously.

  Narikin heard him flicking switches. He looked up at the bridge through the canopy and could see Uigur watching them with his officers standing behind.

  “If you would be so good as to put the straps on, my lord, we will leave the fool with something to think about...”

  Narikin put his arms through the belts and adjusted them until he felt secure. He wasn’t sure what Jamadar intended but he hoped it wouldn’t result in Uigur opening fire once they were clear of the hull. “I’m ready...”

  The War Master engaged the Exarch disks and they rose from the deck quickly. He turned the nose of the scout towards the bridge and pushed it forwards.

&n
bsp; “They’ll kneel, one way or another,” he muttered and flew so close to the iron tower the officers thought he was going to hit them. In a jumble of arms and legs, they threw their bodies into the deck.

  Narikin caught a glimpse of Uigur falling on top of them, his wooden leg flailing in the air. Then they were over the prow and into space. He looked back but the destroyer was already miles behind.

  “Will they come after us?” he asked.

  Jamadar laughed, “No, my lord; the Kyzyl Mazhalyk is too slow and Uigur has suffered enough humiliation for one day. Besides, as soon as he came through the gate, he sent a message telling us to pick you up rather than wait for their arrival on Awa; it seems he couldn’t wait to be rid of you.”

  “But I wasn’t any bother; all I asked for was to be treated like an ensign and not like a prince. I did make a small request to see the bridge but I have strong suspicion the steward never told him.”

  “You can expect better treatment on the Kyzyl Kum. And be assured, you won’t be idle while you’re with us.”

  “How long will it take to get to there?”

  “Less than an hour, my lord. And then you can have tea with the captain.”

  “That would be very welcome, War Master. ‘Let the sun rise on a fresh hour and the ocean shine blue after the silver darkness of the moons’.”

  Jamadar sighed, “Has my brother has been giving away copies of my poetry again?”

  “He has,” Narikin admitted.

  “I wish he wouldn’t; I was a terrible poet.”

  “I admit I prefer your treatise on strategy and tactics, War Master.”

  “Call me Jamadar, my lord; I keep my title for impressing fools like Uigur but among my friends, I like to be myself.”

  “I’d rather be called ‘Narikin’ or ‘ensign’. I didn’t join the rangers to be treated like a visitor.”

  “Good - you’ll find titles mean very little out here.”

  “Mine has brought me nothing but isolation.”

  “The captain likes to run an informal ship. As long as you do your duty, it doesn’t matter who you were in your old life. Everybody shares the work and the rewards and takes responsibility for anything goes wrong. From the bridge to the bomb-bay, the Kyzyl Kum is our home and if you respect the ship, the captain will respect you. Treat it with contempt and he will leave you on the nearest moon.”

  Narikin put the one-eyed captain and the Kyzyl Mazhalyk behind him and settled into the seat. He looked at the banks of switches and dials in front of him, at the radar screen in the middle, Exarch detector on the left and gauges for air and power on either side. The labels under the switches said ‘missiles’ and ‘cannon’ so he kept his hands in his lap. He looked ahead to the star of Awa and the planet hanging in the vacuum to the left.

  “You were late coming through the gate,” said Jamadar.

  “The machines of Clundleby stopped and searched us.”

  “We thought they might have.”

  “One of them came to my cabin. It saw my camera and thought I’d stolen it. I had to show it my photographs to prove it was mine. It said they were looking for Zarktek...”

  “They are,” Jamadar agreed. “We had similar treatment from them the last time the Kyzyl Kum was there. But it’s better for us to endure a small inconvenience than for the tsars to escape back into the Third Sphere.”

  “But none of our ships would help the Zarktek to return, would they?”

  “Not all of our ships are accounted for, Narikin; we lost so many in the war it’s possible they might have found one and be using it to try and slip through. Unlikely perhaps, but that’s why the machines are being cautious.”

  “Would the Zarktek head for Variola if they came here?”

  “That would be their first choice. If we knew for certain they were there, that’s where we would be going too.”

  “But my father has prohibited you...?”

  “That wouldn’t stop Kruvak normally but if the rumours are true, we need more than one ship to take them on.”

  Narikin stared at the open vistas of the Third Sphere. There was so much to see compared to the Second; the ice and asteroids of the Equatorial Sea, the swirls of the Great Barrier, and more stars than he ever thought possible, not just above in the wider galaxy but all around them too.

  Beyond Awa, he could see the system of Ginnan and then Wakizashi. On his left, he could see Blench and Tenrec and Orlop and Kaishaku were to his right; stars like floats on a fishing net.

  He thought about his model hanging in the ceiling of his potting shed. He’d been so proud, thinking it beautiful and technically accurate, but it was nothing but straws and paper labels compared to the glory of the real thing.

  “I have so much to see and learn,” he said absently.

  “It will be a great adventure for you,” Jamadar agreed.

  “I hope you’re right – I hope I don’t become so home-sick it spoils the experience.”

  “Is that likely?”

  Narikin thought about it for a moment, “No,” he replied. “The essence of life is regeneration rather than continuity; one leads to stagnation but the other leads to growth and renewal. I’ve come to be re-born, Jamadar. However hard it becomes, I must try and become more than a prince of Karasor.”

  “Some would say being heir to the Shōgun is an honour in itself.”

  “That’s like saying my hands are lucky to be part of my arms. If my hands were unable to pick up a pen or do any of the tasks assigned to them, they would be useless.”

  Jamadar laughed, “I can see we will have to give your hands plenty to do if you’re to stop being introspective.”

  “But what can I do? I want to be part of the crew and serve our people but apart from being able to use a camera, I have no other skills. I feel like a fraud and have cheated my way to the head of the queue.”

  “Don’t underestimate the necessity of your skill with the camera. We need your pictures to provide your father and the other clans with evidence of what’s really happening here. An image of a fleet of Rickobite ships in the Tenrec system could not be denied, for instance.”

  Narikin looked towards Tenrec’s star. There seemed to be nothing between them and Awa except loose rocks and detritus but he knew the border was guarded by out-posts and patrolled by ships on both sides.

  Jamadar said, “If you’re worried about being ‘useful’ in other ways, don’t be; when you meet the other bridge officers, you’ll realise you’re not so different from them. I will put you in the observation dome to begin with.”

  Narikin smiled, “Your brother said he would do that if he was in your place.”

  “That’s because I taught him. But it is an important task; it will enable you to hear the bridge commands and learn about the ship through listening to how she is run.”

  “He said that too,” Narikin added.

  “And I’ll be standing underneath you with a stick, ready to poke you in the side if you don’t pay attention; did he tell you that?”

  “No,” Narikin admitted. “He left that part out.”

  “Then watch carefully as we approach Awa...”

  The disk of the planet expanded rapidly. He could begin to see the blue and white of its seas and clouds. He knew the worlds of the Third Sphere were identical, each with the same shaped continents and oceans. How the lords had done this once was a miracle but 338 times, each with its own star and moon, was magic rather than science.

  As the planet drew closer, he sat forward, eager to see the shapes he had only seen on paper maps. “Are they really all the same?” he asked.

  “Not exactly; the seas are higher or lower, the ice-caps bigger or smaller and the rivers flow in different places. But Awa is as average as they come.”

  “How did the Lords make all of this,” he wondered. “It’s beyond comprehension.”

  “If we understood the answer to that, we wouldn’t be crawling across the vacuum in this tiny scout but soaring like imagination. And we c
ouldn’t be worrying about a little trouble with the Rickobites or the Taira.”

  “We must seem so small to them that it is extraordinary they notice us at all.”

  “Yes,” he laughed. “I’ve wondered that too.”

  The view of the planet opened, like the blossoming of a flower, and Narikin felt his excitement rising. He could see the browns and greens of the continents; great land-masses that dwarfed the tiny islands his people lived on. Kimidori was just a rocky pyramid less than a mile across. Sukoshi was a mere speck. Even Kuchī, considered big among the islands of the Midori Archipelago, would have been lost like a midget in a crowd.

  They crossed the boundary of the planet’s sphere and began to descend. As the scout broke through a thin layer of clouds, they rocked gently as Jamadar levelled her out over the lesser of the two biggest oceans. Narikin heard a click as the radio was switched on and the War Master spoke into the microphone, giving the call-sign of the scout and a number.

  A few seconds later, the speaker crackled and a number was read back. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “It’s the entrance they want us to use,” Jamadar replied.

  They passed over an island covered in forests and flew across a shallow sea, its surface dappled with waves and sandbanks, before reaching a rugged coastline with cliffs a thousand feet high. Inland, he could see snow-covered mountains.

  Jamadar brought the boat down to sea-level, slowed to a mere hundred miles an hour, and began searching along great cliffs of craggy rock dressed in pine and beech trees. The sea was grey and choppy.

  “We have to find the right fjord,” he said.

  Narikin had no idea how. “Everything looks the same,” he said.

  Jamadar laughed, “It is difficult; we cannot carry a map to guide us in case we’re captured so even the best pilots do occasionally get lost.”

  “Can you use the radio to ask for help?”

  “That would give our position away. Remember, this is not a Karasor world; we do not have jurisdiction here and you never know who might be listening.”