The Karasor Page 4

  “Never-the-less, it convinced your father.”

  Narikin sipped some tea and began to feel slightly better. Kruvak asked about the family, his aunt, and changes on Pentī Prime. He had not been allowed home for so many years even the price of fish interested him. They avoided talking about his father again.

  When he felt more comfortable, Narikin dared to say, “I heard you brought a human to the Takla Makan...”

  “I did; a very important one with information that could change the course of our future in the Third Sphere.”

  “Because he told you the Rickobites have re-occupied the Variola system...?”

  His cousin looked surprised, “You father said you show no interest in current affairs and spend your time in the garden with your hobbies.”

  “As he’s never asked me about my interests, I’m not sure how he would know. But do I study the dispatches and I did read about how you brought the human to Pentī Prime to warn us about the Rickobites. I also know Shōgun Taira believes it’s a lie to convince the emperor to keep us in the Third Sphere. But if it is true, it could mean the beginning of another hundred years of war, couldn’t it?”

  “Perhaps - but your father won’t sanction an expedition to Variola to get proof.”

  “Because of the Neutral Zone Treaty...?”

  He nodded, “It’s ironic that a treaty meant to prevent the system becoming a shrine to the tsars is protecting the Rickobites from discovery. However, I was told they are using Tenrec as the location for building their army. The Kyzyl Bulak tried to get a closer look but they were turned back. So, I intend to take the Kyzyl Kum next month after we’ve completed our survey of the Xramarian situation. If you’re ready by then, if the basic training hasn’t killed you, I want you to bring that camera of yours and take pictures of what we might find.”

  “My camera...?”

  “You didn’t think I wanted you just for your poetry, did you?”

  “No cousin, to be sure, I didn’t know why you wanted me at all.”

  Kruvak sighed, “Modesty is one thing but self-pity is another.”

  “It’s not self-pity; my father is right – I have not been the best son he could have wished for. I have tried to please him but I’m not like my brothers, especially Titer...”

  “Good - if you were like Titer you’d be on your way back to Kimidori by now.”

  “But why...?”

  “Let us say we don’t see eye-to-eye; Titer may have many fine qualities but patience and reserve are not among them.”

  Titer Karasor was the eldest of Narikin’s half-brothers. He was the daimyō (warlord) of Kaishaku, one of the few fortresses the Karasor clan still kept in the Third Sphere. He was big and brave and considered the hero of the family. But as children, he had bullied his older sibling without mercy, even pushing him into a pond when he knew Narikin couldn’t swim. He was jealous that Narikin was heir and even though their father treated him as the favourite son, he thought he deserved more. Narikin agreed he lacked patience and reserve but he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t built like a twig.

  “I’ve asked Captain Subarsi to be your teacher,” said his cousin. “He will introduce you to the rules and practices of being a ranger until you can recite them in your sleep. There will be additional training too; your strength and endurance will need improvement. Lieutenant Nayaika has agreed to help and will teach you the basics of hand-to-hand combat.”

  “I’m not sure we will achieve much in a few weeks...”

  The captain shrugged, “It is more about setting a pattern for the future. They will introduce you to exercises and regimes that you will be able to continue on board the Kyzyl Kum. Your real training will begin when you join us.”

  Narikin nodded, not believing it was going to happen. At the last minute, his father would intervene and back to Kimidori he would go. But he accepted his cousin’s word.

  A steward came to tell Kruvak his ride back to the Third Sphere was ready. As they got up to go, the captain added, “Even though you are the heir to the clan’s highest office, and you have more authority than the rest of us put together, on my ship you’ll have to do what you’re told and I won’t think twice about throwing you in the brig if you don’t obey my orders.”

  “Don’t worry, cousin - I’m quite used to doing what I’m told.”

  Kruvak grinned, “If that was true, you wouldn’t be here.”

  4 – Kara Kum

  The steward took Narikin to the quartermasters’ stores to receive his new uniform; a plain dark green jacket with brass buttons and lighter green trousers, cap and new shoes. He was also given clothes to train in, a towel and a wash-bag, a sewing kit, polishing kit and a ditty-bag to carry it in.

  Now he was a prince again, he could have asked for an entire suite of rooms if he had wanted. Instead, he chose to re-join the other new recruits and the only request he made was to share a cabin with Fengtai.

  Narikin struggled with the ditty-bag but refused the steward’s help. If he was going to be a ranger, even if it was for a short time, he was going to learn to do things by himself.

  When they reached the cabin, he found Fengtai tidying away his new possessions into the limited amount of storage space. There were two bunks, one above the other, two small cabinets, hooks on the back of the door for their coats, and space under the lower bunk for their bags.

  There was an embarrassing scene as the fisherman’s son threw his body on the tatami mat and bowed his head to the floor. “Please forgive me, Your Highness; I had idea who you were...”

  “It doesn’t matter who I am,” said Narikin, telling him to get up. “While I’m here, I want to be treated like any other recruit. There will be no bowing, no ‘Your Highness’ and you will call me by my name. I’m here to serve the empire – just like you.”

  Reluctantly, Fengtai sat on his heels. “Not exactly like me,” he said, still unable to look his prince in the eye. Then he smiled, “You finished the examination in under an hour and got all the questions right. I barely managed half and got most of the answers wrong.”

  But as he’d thought, the paper tests in the examination hall were a means to discover the level of the recruits’ education rather a way to weed them out altogether. Even though Fengtai had done spectacularly badly, he had not ‘failed’ as such. Instead, he was tasked with additional classes to make up for his lack of education. He had been told there would be further tests along the way and his progress would be reviewed at end. Narikin promised to help him.

  “I’ll help you study; you can help me with the other stuff.”

  “Like what...?”

  Narikin sighed, “Finding my way around this ship, for a start; I have no sense of direction and I can’t remember where I’ve been let alone where I’m supposed to go.”

  “I don’t think it’s as complicated as you think, sire. They have put signs at the end of each corridor...”

  Narikin confessed he hadn’t noticed them.

  “There’s also the problem of my fitness – compared to everybody else, I’m no more than bait on one of your father’s fishing lines.”

  Fengtai wouldn’t comment but promised he would help if he could.

  They discussed what Narikin had missed while he was talking to Kruvak and his father. The other recruits had been given a lecture on what was expected of them. They were briefed on what they would be doing over the next few weeks and told to keep their cabins spotless if they didn’t want to find themselves on their knees scrubbing the toilets. Fengtai showed Narikin the thick booklet of regulations they had been given. “We’re supposed to commit this to memory,” he added, looking appalled.

  Narikin was used to formal rules; the palace on Kimidori was full of them and these didn’t look so very different. “We’ll manage,” he promised.

  The light on the wall flashed.

  “That means it’s time to sleep,” said Fengtai. “Shall I take the top bunk?”

  “Only if you want to – you were here first...
”

  Fengtai wrestled with his conscience. The lower bunk was easier to get into and there was more space between the bed and the bottom of the bunk above. But he was also conscious of the fact he was taller and it was easier for him to climb up. Rather than let Narikin struggle, he said, “I’m happy with the top.”

  They changed out of their clothes. Narikin normally slept in silk pyjamas but had to make do with his small-clothes. There was a single cotton sheet, a small pillow and a thin blanket on the bed. He didn’t think he would be cold; the cabin was already far too warm.

  Fengtai climbed onto the top bunk and the frame creaked under his weight. Narikin lay down on the thin mattress and stared up the wooden boards above him, hoping they wouldn’t break.

  They both found it difficult to sleep that first night. There were too many noises; distant clangs and bangs, bells ringing every hour, people passing the cabin, people talking in the cabins next to theirs, footsteps on the floor above, and always the hum of the air-filters through the vents.

  At home, Narikin had been lulled to sleep by the wind in the peach trees and the gentle ringing of the wind-chimes on his veranda. The servants were not permitted to talk or even wear shoes in the house so went about their work in silence.

  Fengtai was used to the sound of the sea and the motion of the waves. He was used to the smell of fresh air rather than filtered and missed the view of the night sky from his window. “How can anyone sleep in this metal world?” he complained.

  “We’ll get used to it,” Narikin replied, not entirely sure he ever would.

  “It’s like being inside a tin with somebody banging on the outside.”

  “I expect after tomorrow, we shall be too exhausted to notice.”

  Eventually, they fell asleep but Narikin woke up in the night, hot and clueless, wondering where he was for several minutes. He needed to pee but didn’t dare leave the cabin in case he got lost. He drifted back again but it was an uncomfortable night; full of strange dreams and snap-shots of the day.

  Captain Subarsi came to him the next day and took him to see his ship, the Kara Kum, in the repair bay. Despite his ferocious appearance, he was kind and let Fengtai tag along.

  It took them fifteen minutes to walk to the bay and Narikin was lost almost as soon as they left the training deck. “The stairs always face the same way,” said Subarsi. “When you go down, you are facing the stern, the back, and when you go up, you are heading forwards, towards the bow of the ship.”

  “Down, back; up, front,” Narikin repeated, trying not to get confused.

  “It is the same rule on all our ships; eventually they will lead you to the emergency life-boats. But take care, on a ranger ship, the starboard, amid-ship staircase leads down to the bomb bay and that’s a dead-end – quite literally.” He laughed at the expression on Narikin’s face, “Don’t look so worried, after a few weeks you’ll know the ship like your own home.”

  “There are areas of the palace I’ve never seen,” Narikin admitted. “I wandered into the cellars once and Kunaichō had to form a search party to find me.”

  Subarsi laughed again, “We’ll give you some string so you can find your way back.”

  He talked about some of the duties Narikin could expect to undertake. “You will be taught the skills to run the ship, from the bridge to the bilge. Despite your title, you will have to take orders from the captain and his deputies. On board the Kyzyl Kum, Lieutenant Durgah is second-in-command. Sword Master Quassin is in charge of the elite rangers. Strategy and tactics fall to War Master Jamadar...”

  “I have heard of them,” said Narikin.

  “I expect you have.”

  Fengtai looked blank but kept quiet.

  “Durgah was a pilot at the Battle of Variola. He took the Kyzyl Kum through the middle of the Zarktek fleet, in between two Enoth ships that were so close together they were almost touching and managed to bring her around to attack them at exactly the right angle.”

  “An extraordinary feat,” Subarsi agreed. “He’s a great navigator too; if you want to impress him, make sure you know how to interpret the maps and almanacs and how to calculate a course.”

  “I have read about Lieutenant Quassin as well – there’s a story about him and a lion and I always wondered if it was true...?”

  “Quite true – the great lions of Azaroth were meant to be fighting on our side but inextricably one of them attacked him. He was lucky to have survived.”

  “And isn’t Jamadar your older brother?”

  Subarsi looked pleased, “Yes,” he said. “I have spent my life trying to match his reputation and make him proud of me. He is an inspiration to us all.”

  “I think you’ve achieved great things too, Captain. I confess, the account of your fight with the lycosa at the City of Fire chilled me to the core.”

  Subarsi didn’t laugh this time, “Yes; it was a hard battle.”

  Fengtai whispered to Narikin, “What happened?”

  “It was near the end of the war - when our forces reached the last fortresses of the tsars on Abaddon, before the final battle at Variola.”

  “The tsars...?”

  “The Zarktek...?”

  His friend nodded, “I have heard of them.”

  “Abaddon was the world where the last great land battles were fought. There were four cities where the Cult of Apollyon practiced that needed to be destroyed if the mystique of the Zarktek was to be broken. The City of Fire was the final one but it was defended by lycosa.”

  Fengtai shook his head again, “What are they?”

  “Spiders ten feet across; it took several days to kill them before our forces could move on the city. But when they finally broke through the outer barriers, the priests set fire to the buildings and committed suicide rather than be taken prisoner.”

  “You know your history,” Subarsi grunted. He frowned at Fengtai, “But the question is: why don’t you?”

  Fengtai bowed his head, “I was a fisherman, my lord...”

  “It doesn’t matter what you were; every Pentī should know our past. We have made great sacrifices on your behalf so the least you can do is honour the memory of those that fell by knowing the stories in detail.”

  Fengtai stuttered, “I will, my lord.”

  “Make sure you do.” He winked at Narikin.

  They came to a narrow staircase and Subarsi went ahead. “I’ll help you,” Narikin promised his friend. “I’m good at history even if I’m rubbish at everything else.”

  Fengtai felt ashamed, “This is not the best first impression I could have made.”

  The Kara Kum sat in a cradle, battle-scarred and missing one of her outer hulls. Under the arc-lights, they could see the rust between her joints and her paintwork peeling off. She looked nothing like the painting his father kept of her in his collection. In the picture, among the thousands bound together in the great volumes of the clan’s history, she had shone with an almost mystical light as she flew alongside the Kyzyl Kum for the final battle at Variola.

  Fengtai said, “The old warrior has lost an arm.”

  “She’ll soon have a new one,” said Subarsi. “And she will be stronger; the engineers are replacing her old disks and up-grading her drive. She’ll have new weapons and better armour. After a fresh coat of paint, she’ll be a new ship.”

  Hundreds of workmen were working on the site. Chains rattled from the gantries as girders were lifted into new positions or stripped out of old ones. Iron plates hung like frozen sheets of washing above the skeletal frame of the replacement hull. The noise of hammering and riveting was deafening but they could hear the sound of singing too. Narikin recognised the hymns to the lords of creation; to Mi’Kale, lord of action and to Oba’Hiad, lord of luck.

  He watched as more engineers in blue overalls arrived by boat. They were from clan Ishan, responsible for building and making rather than war or science or administration.

  The work of the engineers was like magic to Fengtai but Narikin had read boo
ks on welding and wiring, forging and fitting, and he understood the shipwrights’ business even if he’d never seen it being done.

  “It’s fascinating,” he said.

  The welding torches hissed and spat, sending tiny pieces of the sun skittering over the deck. The Ishan called to each other as they ran wires through the hull to a myriad of junctions. Scorched and damaged plates were loaded onto boats and carried away to be recycled.

  “If this is what the Taira can do to us; what horrors can we expect from our real enemies?” said Fengtai as they walked under the ship and saw the damage from her fight with the Harima Nada. There were holes and pockmarks in the hull, some as large as portholes.

  “The Tun ships have plasma accelerators ten times the size of ours,” said Subarsi. “Without a field, their plasma bolts could strip off every plate like the skin of a pig over a fire. A Rickobite cruiser can ram a ship so hard even the field is no protection. The Imperial Zamut Navy has lasers that can pass through the shield and cut through the hull like a rapier. Even the Quill Navy, weak though it is in comparison with the rest, has mines that can enter the field and detonate inside like a fist holding a hand grenade. And all of them are nothing compared to what the Ulupan ships are capable of; we can only guess what their potential might be.”

  “They attacked the whole of the Xenoterop-Zarktek fleet on their own,” Narikin recalled, “And defeated them at Phlegethon in a battle that’s believed to be the largest of the war, bigger than the Battle of Variola…”

  Subarsi nodded, “Can you imagine what they might have built since then?”

  “I don’t think I want to.”

  “Our ships were made for a war that’s been over for half a century. While we’ve been relying on our reputation, there’s been fifty years of progress among the other empires, especially by Zamut and Ulupan. We have not evolved and if there was a war, I wouldn’t like to say what the outcome would be.”

  “Do you think we would lose?” said Fengtai, horrified.

  “Yes,” said the captain.

  “But look at the Kyzylagash; who could build a ship this powerful?”