Architects of Destiny Read online

  I guess that really makes me an official member of the crew. “Do you want me to come with you to the Makaris meeting?”

  “No, best leave that to me. Take some time to wander around and enjoy yourself. We’ll head out in a couple of days.”

  They finished docking with the station and Cris was soon left to fend for himself. He took some time to shower in the shared washroom and change into clean clothes before venturing from the Exler.

  The space station was a completely different environment than the port at Tararia. It was immediately apparent that the pace was slower, with individuals and small groups strolling as they talked business or caught up on personal lives. Cris found it easy to walk off the Exler and wander down the corridor without coming close to anyone else.

  As he made his way down the hallway, foot traffic slowly picked up. After a short while, he found himself at an intersection with what appeared to be a central mall. Shops lined the broad corridor, with merchants barking their wares.

  There were significantly more people in the shopping district compared to the docking area near the Exler. People with every variety of skin tone and feature, dressed in all manner of clothing styles, were going about their business. The hum of conversation filled the space, making it feel lively without being frantic.

  Now this is what I had imagined. Cris looked around in wonder. The colorful storefronts with illuminated signs and attention-grabbing holographic gimmicks stretched on for as far as he could see in both directions, broken up only by other side corridors to the various docking wings. There’s so much to explore! He made note of the shops near the Exler’s docking location so he could find his way back, then arbitrarily set off down the mall to his right.

  As he strolled, there was a slow change in his surroundings—so subtle that he didn’t notice at first. The vibrant colors and flashy ads gave way to metal signs with static typography. The wording on most of these signs was vague, such as “Sundries from far and wide” or “Trade, Barter and Pawn.” The people also changed. Though still covering the spectrum of physical traits, their clothing was more worn and they appeared to be constantly evaluating the value of everything they surveyed.

  Cris was so taken in by the freedom to wander on his own that he didn’t realize he was growing increasingly anxious under the scrutinizing gaze of the shopkeepers and their patrons. When he finally became aware of his surroundings, he realized he stood out from the few people left roaming the corridor. Maybe it’s time to get out of sight for a while and do some shopping.

  One of the shops off to Cris’ left caught his eye. The printed sign boasted discount ships and parts. How discounted? Maybe I could buy my own ship one day and have real autonomy. He decided to investigate.

  The entrance to the shop was an open doorway two meters wide. Inside, on both walls of the shop, tiered shelving rose to the three-meter-high ceiling. Other shelves were positioned perpendicular to the wall, forming a maze of forgotten artifacts. Random ship parts were nearly overflowing from the shelves, and some larger items rested on the floor. The disorganization and compact layout were unappealing, but Cris was too intrigued by the dream of eventually having his own ship to care.

  The perpendicular offshoots from the shelves prevented a direct view deeper into store. With no proprietor in sight, Cris headed toward the back. He weaved through the shelves until he came to an open area.

  A young woman was lounging on a metal counter, her long legs crossed with one of her booted feet bobbing in the air. She looked to be a few years older than Cris, and had dark hair with fuschia highlights that was pulled up into a sloppy ponytail. Long bangs fell over her maple eyes. When Cris approached, she looked up. She appraised him and smiled. “Well, hello there.” She slid off the counter.

  “Hi,” Cris replied. “Do you work here?”

  “I do.” She looked Cris over again. “What can I do for you?” She shifted her weight to one hip and stood akimbo. Though she was fairly tall and thin, her revealing clothing emphasized every curve.

  Cris tried to keep his eyes on her face. “I saw on your sign that you have ships for sale.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. In the market for anything in particular?”

  “Just browsing for now. How much for a basic craft with a jump drive?”

  “Well, let’s take a look at our inventory.” The woman sauntered around to the back side of the counter and grabbed a tablet from underneath. She placed the tablet on the counter and activated a holographic projection of the inventory list, which included images of the crafts and some basic features. She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Need room for passengers? Traveling with anyone?”

  “Not really. Just me.” Cris looked around the equipment in the shop. Some of it was worn, but much of it appeared to be almost brand new.

  “Okay, let’s see…” After flicking through the list of ships, the woman selected one and brought up a more detailed display on the projector. “This would be your best bet. For something entry-level.”

  The ship was only ten meters long and had the aerodynamic look of a craft designed for atmospheric entry. While it would be functional, Cris doubted he could stay sane in such a small space for any prolonged period of time. “How much?”

  “76,000 credits.”

  There’s no way I could spend that much without drawing suspicion. “Not bad, but it’s a little more than I was hoping to spend.”

  The woman shrugged. “Well, you’re paying for the scrubbed ID, of course.”

  “Of course.” Stars! These are ships for smuggling. He realized with dismay that the new equipment around him was likely scrap from stolen vessels.

  “How would you pay?” the woman asked.

  I need to get out of here. “Credit transfer, I guess.” Cris looked toward the entrance to the store, judging his escape path.

  “We might be able to work out a deal.”

  Cris took a step back. “Really, I—”

  He was cut off by the woman turning to yell deeper into the store. “Merl! We have a customer.”

  Merl emerged from a back room behind the counter. He was two heads taller than Cris, all muscle, and had geometric tattoos on the side of his face and going up his bare arms. With his eyes fixed on Cris, he walked to the counter. He put an arm around his slight companion. “Oh, Danni, you got us a good one.”

  There was a creak of metal to Cris’ side and he saw another man emerge from a hidden doorway to block his path. His arms were nearly the size of Cris’ torso.

  “He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Danni said. “Traveling alone. And he comes with a nice bank account.”

  Shite! This is bad. Cris took another step back. I don’t think they just smuggle ship parts…

  “How much do you think we could get for him?” Danni asked Merl.

  “Looks like good breeding,” Merl replied, evaluating Cris. “Probably at least 50,000 credits to the right buyer.”

  The man from the side room took a step toward Cris.

  Run! Cris bolted, ducking past the towering man who had come to block him in. He felt the breeze from the man’s arms trying to grab him, but managed to make it through. After tearing around the maze of shelves, he ran full speed as soon as he was in the open corridor. He didn’t slow until he was again surrounded by lively merchants and bright ads.

  Cris stepped off to the side of the hall and leaned forward, hands resting on his thighs. He was shaking and his breath was ragged. He found an open stretch of wall to lean against. I can’t be so trusting of people out here.

  He took a couple minutes to calm his breathing and racing heart. Despite his excitement from earlier, when he looked out at the crowd again, he felt like everyone in the port was staring at him suspiciously. I think I need a break.

  The Exler seemed like the only safe place. He took a direct route back, thankful he had paid attention to the docking location. When he made it to the ship, he was about to go into his room when he saw that Thom was in the flight deck.
He continued down the hall and poked his head in. “Hi Thom.”

  The captain looked up with surprise. “Back already? I figured you’d be partying all night.”

  Cris collapsed into his Navigator’s chair. “It was a lot to take in at once. I think I’ll just turn in early.”

  Thom raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just… acclimating.” Probably best if he doesn’t know how inexperienced I really am. There’s no way I’m traveling alone any time soon.

  Thom nodded. “Yes, it’s quite different out here than around Tararia.”

  I’ll say… Cris sighed inwardly.

  “And even more so in the outer colonies where we’re headed.”

  Where we’re headed? Cris perked up. “Wait, you got the Makaris contract?”

  Thom smiled. “I did—and a good one. Fifteen months, with scheduled stops on a service route. We’ll have supply pickups every two weeks at stations, so you’ll have plenty of time to get used to everything.”

  “Perfect.” All this will start feeling normal eventually, right?

  “I got us a little something to celebrate.” Thom pulled out two small glasses and a bottle of a dark brown liquid from the cabinet by his chair. “I know you’re not quite of age, but one drink won’t hurt you.” He filled the glasses and passed one to Cris.

  Stars! It would be rude to turn him down. Cris took the glass. Besides, I could use a drink.

  Thom downed the contents of his glass in one gulp.

  Cris took a cautious whiff of the liquid. It seemed more like a cleaning supply than anything fit for a person to consume. Here it goes. He took the full glass into his mouth and swallowed. It burned all way down and left his stomach feeling warm. He coughed a couple of times, feeling the burn up in his sinuses. “Wow, that’s…”

  “That’s real liquor. Not like those ‘liqueurs’ and sparkling shite everyone drinks back in the central worlds.”

  Everyone drinks those because they actually taste good. “I appreciate the introduction to the real stuff.” And now I know what to avoid as much as possible.

  “It’ll knock you on your ass if you’re not careful.” Thom poured himself another glass and offered Cris some more.

  Cris hastily declined. “I’m sure it can.” Without warning, he started to feel a little light-headed and tingly. This stuff acts fast. “I think it’s bedtime for me.”

  Thom seemed disappointed. “All right. Sleep well.”

  Cris rose. “Thanks for the drink.” And thank you for taking me in.

  * * *

  The news was not what TSS High Commander Jason Banks had hoped to hear. “What do you mean he’s ‘gone?’”

  Agent Jarek’s image on the viewscreen, almost indistinguishable from real life, looked uncomfortable. “His parents didn’t want to talk to us. We were able to glean that he slipped out in the middle of the night a couple of weeks ago.”

  Shite! We should have been keeping a closer watch. “We need to find him. As soon as possible.”

  Jarek frowned. “He could be anywhere, sir. We checked all the registries for passenger ships, but there was nothing. If he’s on a cargo freighter, there are hundreds of possibilities, multiplied exponentially by transfers at another port. I think we need to wait it out until we get some kind of lead.”

  Banks rubbed his eyes under his tinted glasses. This is a disaster. “Fine. Make some contacts out there to keep watch for us. We’ll wait it out.” Let’s hope we find him before the Priesthood does. I don’t want to risk a repeat of last time.

  Part 2: Awakening

  CHAPTER 5

  “Game.” Cris laid down his victorious hand of Fastara.

  Thom threw down his cards in disgust. “That’s five in a row. I’ve created a monster.”

  “Oh, come on now. Be a good sport.”

  “Constant loss kind of takes the fun out of it.”

  Right, like it was awesome for me when we first started playing. “You had a good run. This was bound to happen eventually. After all, I have had a year of daily practice.” Cris grinned. He knew he had just been lucky with his last several draws—he and Thom were equal in their playing ability, despite the recent winning streak. I can’t resist getting in a few jabs while I can.

  They were nearing the end of another delivery cycle on their Makaris contract. After only ten months with Thom, Cris could hardly believe he’d ever had any other life. Since his initial mishaps, he had become comfortable with the customs of nomadic space life. With dozens of stopovers in space stations, he had learned how to identify the good areas from the bad, and he was proficient at using covert telepathic probes when needed.

  To his relief, the food distribution work offered far more variety than the initial, dull trip to Gallos. They traveled for no more than two days at a time without making a stop to offload, which helped the time pass.

  Privately, Cris had kept up with his studies and physical training in the Exler’s small gym, not wanting his skills to atrophy; however, it was because he enjoyed it, rather than feeling like it was something he had to do. He kept steady watch for news about his parents back in Sieten, but heard little. There was never an announcement about his disappearance—that would have been a disastrous political move—but he figured there must be private detectives looking for him. The prospect was disconcerting, but he tried to feel confident in his ability to remain undetectable. He was the Navigator for a cargo freighter, and as far as anyone else was concerned, he was born to fulfill such a duty.

  The navigation system beeped. They had reached the last beacon in the sequence.

  Thom jumped at the chance to clear the cards from their play surface. “Thank the stars! I need some time away from the onslaught.”

  Cris shook his head and laughed. He’ll get over it. He checked the lock on the exit beacon; it was solid. “Aldria, here we come.”

  The Exler dropped out of subspace. Ahead of them, in the distance, was one of the smaller stations in the sector. They had previously been there four times on their delivery rounds. Unlike many other stations, Aldria was predominantly a stopover for merchants, rather than serving as a residence for any sizable population.

  They went through the docking protocol with the remote attendant. As soon as the clamps were in place, Thom rose from his seat. “I’ll handle the offloading. Go get some of that fried thing you like so much.”

  Because it’s delicious! “Best in the outer colonies.”

  “So you’ve told me every time since we first came here.” Thom shooed Cris away with his hand. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

  Cris eagerly complied. There were few things he missed from his home, but fried leeca was one. It was common street food on Tararia, but the Sietinen family chef had made it for him one time and he was instantly hooked. He had stumbled across a vendor in the Aldria Station on their first stopover and was thrilled to discover that the rendition thoroughly lived up to his memory.

  The vendor was on the opposite side of the station. Cris took his time taking in the sights, happy to stretch his legs in a manner other than on a treadmill. They stopped at stations frequently enough, but rarely was he afforded free time to idly gaze at wares.

  Even after a year of travel, he was still amazed by the quantity and breadth of products available in ports. There was a gadget to fulfill every need—both real needs, and those invented strictly for the sake of sales. It was difficult to imagine all of the inventory selling, yet the system perpetuated itself. Cris was struck by the scale of it. I’m only here at this one moment. How many millions of people pass by just out of sight in space every day? Thinking in those terms put his own miniscule existence in perspective. But I’m not no one, as much as I try to blend in. Even with all those countless people, most would still know my birth name. That recognition means something. It was humbling.

  Cris took a wrong turn at first, but eventually found the fried leeca vendor’s red cart. A rich scent of frying dough wafted down the hall.
The cart was a freestanding box a couple meters square and just tall enough to stand inside, with a half-open wall to the front. Its crimson color made Cris think of his favorite flower patch in the Sietinen estate’s gardens. He beamed at the proprietor as he approached.

  She was a sturdy woman of middle years, named Roselyn based on the credentials displayed in front of her cart. There was a warmth to her that reminded Cris of the nanny who had cared for him until he was six. She tilted her head and gave Cris a slight smile in return. There was a hint of recognition in her burnt umber eyes. “You’re back.”

  She remembers me? I guess I couldn’t stay completely anonymous forever. “I could never pass up the opportunity to get a taste of home.”

  “It’s been almost two months, hasn’t it?” Roselyn asked as she rotated the contents of the basket in her fryer within the cart.

  Cris nodded. “Yes, sadly. Our rounds only bring us here every nine weeks.”

  Roselyn frowned. “What a shame. I’ve missed that adorable smile of yours.” She winked at him.

  Stars! Is she flirting with me? He smiled politely and took half a step back. “I’ll take two orders, please.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll have a fresh batch ready in a couple minutes.” She flipped the contents of the basket again.

  “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  Roselyn inclined her head. “You flatter me. Are you here for long?”

  “Just for a few hours to pick up our cargo, then on to Elarine,” Cris replied with a dour expression. My least favorite of all the ports.

  “Elarine…” The vendor’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard of it, but never been.”

  “Don’t bother. There’s nothing to see. It’s small and unremarkable in every way.”

  Roselyn grinned. “Looking forward to your visit, then?”

  “Can’t wait…”

  “Well, I hope this makes it easier for you.” Roselyn removed the basket from the fryer and placed six fried patties onto a plastic plate. The golden dough of the leeca was still sizzling. She set the plate on a ledge atop the front opening to her cart. “Four credits.”