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The Stargazer's War - Chapter 3.2
🕑 Added 2024-10-23 21:07:19 +0000 UTCChapter 3.2: Warm Welcome
The Dragon’s Right Eye, like any caged sun, was a marvel of engineering.
The station itself wrapped around the entire star, a dyson sphere built to capture qi rather than anything so pedestrian as light or heat. Other than the infrequent supporting pillars and access tunnels where necessary, every mile of the station followed the corners and curves of enchantment, a megacity built in the language of magic, in the shape of a spell. It both resembled the trenches of Fyrion and didn’t, the scale and throughput of the endeavor demanding complexity and robustness the dwarf planet didn’t. That such a thing survived the gravitational forces at play between two binary stars evoked an awe in me that even after a week’s travel had scarcely faded.
Standing in Lucy’s observation deck, her windows tinted dark to protect our eyes from the star we were staring at, I couldn’t help but reminisce abut the last time I’d taken in such a sight, when Brady and I had watched New Heravia shrink from the freighter’s outer hull, a melancholic view enjoyed in brief glances between vac welds as we accelerated away from the only home we’d ever known.
The Right Eye, a mere red dwarf, paled in comparison to New Heravia’s majesty, but we flew not to some mortal spaceport, not to one of the overcrowded and underfunded back corners where the mortal hyper-majority lived and worked and died, but to the very locus of it all, the gated peak of the proverbial mount, the hungry maw that swallowed up every bit of qi and wealth and luxury the megacity could feed it.
Just under three trillion souls inhabited the floating arcology. Fifteen billion or so practiced some form of cultivation, soaking in ambient that inevitably leaked from the great enchantment, feeding off table scraps in pursuit of health and longevity, or out of the desperate hope to prove themselves worthy of recruitment into those higher halls.
Eighty thousand enjoyed access to the city’s four hundred and thirty six focus rooms, harnessing the qi output of an entire star to propel their cultivation to iron and beyond, an insurmountable gap for the billions stuck at tin to overcome.
“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” Xavier muttered as the last bit of exposed star left our field of view, leaving only metal and glass and light to loom increasingly closer. “A testament to mankind’s dominance over the universe itself.”
“More like mankind’s greed,” Micaiah said. “All this only exists to facilitate the greatest tool of oppression ever invented. Control the qi supply, control the populace. It’s enforced inequality on a cosmic scale.”
“Oh, come off it,” Charlotte snapped. “It’s strictly optimal. The focus room system has repeatedly proven to be the only method of consistently producing high-level cultivators. Sure, it makes society less equal, but equality doesn’t matter if your neighbor has better cultivators than you and uses them to conquer your territory. Qi is a limited resource, and the societies that best distribute that resource succeed while others fail. Even the Free Worlds Coalition cages their stars.”
“It can be both,” I argued. “Producing as many high level cultivators as possible is only imperative because humans keep trying to take each other’s stuff. At least the Coalition let’s mortals largely govern themselves instead of keeping them in service to the cultivators.”
Charlotte scoffed. “If you believe that, I’ve got a moon to sell you. The combined production of trillions of mortals is too valuable a resource to squander. I guarantee you whatever political factions you thought were running mortal affairs had cultivators pulling the strings. Any edge, Cal. Tools that effective don’t sit unused.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Threads, she was probably right, not that I’d been well enough versed in New Heravian politics to so much as guess what kinds of cultivator schemes might’ve been going on in the background. Thankfully, Lucy spared me from having to acknowledge my disillusionment.
“Soulship LC-81535 requesting permission to dock,” she both announced and broadcast the the rapidly-approaching station.
The message conjured the memory of a similar one two years prior, and the poor Fyrion dock worker who’d cussed over comms at the declaration that a soulship had come to visit.
No such surprise met us here. The Right Eye was ready for us.
“The Dragon’s Right Eye welcomes you, venerable ancient,” a feminine voice dripping with polite professionalism responded. “Docking station The Early Dew Glistens in the Starlight has been prepared for your arrival.”
A burst of laughter escaped my best attempt at containment. “The Early Dew Glistens in the Starlight? That can’t be real. They’re making fun of us, right?”
“It’s from a poem,” Xavier explained. “‘And although day has long faded to night, the early dew glistens in the starlight…’ It goes on for several verses.” He pointed to the left. “See, look, the bay next to ours is named after the next line.”
Micaiah raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t know you read poetry.”
I smirked and followed up. “I didn’t know you could read.”
Xavier laughed. “I’m not the one who didn’t know what The Tempest was.”
Charlotte huffed. “Some of us spent our youths studying more useful topics than ancient literature.”
I shook my head. “It’s still an insanely pretentious naming scheme, not to mention a mouthful, and wildly impractical for anyone trying to figure out which dock is where.” Under my breath I added, “Godsdamn cultivators.”
“You are a cultivator,” Charlotte said.
“And I’ve never once felt the need to name a docking bay after a poem. It’s a docking bay. Why does it need a fancy name?”
Charlotte sighed. “It’s about status. It’s a way to communicate that the ship docked there doesn’t belong to just anybody, while also honoring whomever it hosts. Accept the curtesy for what it is. Only the faction heads and visiting Black Maw have berths earlier in the poem.”
We fell silent as Lucy passed through a pair of massive doors to land in a hangar sized more for a cruiser than a skiff, complete with grand windows and far, far too much gold trim. It took fifteen minutes after she touched down in the room’s exact center for the bay doors to close behind us and the pumps to refill the hangar’s atmosphere.
As we waited, an extravagant, human-sized door opened to admit a welcoming delegation onto the raised walkway that encircled the hangar. Lucy’s diminutive size left the uniformed cultivators standing a few dozen feet above us, the whole space clearly designed to allow wealthy cultivators comfortable access to the upper levels of their luxurious pleasure cruisers rather than to service tiny skiffs. The delegation didn’t deign to descend to our level.
They arranged themselves in three groups of six, each led by a man in what I could only describe as a visibly fancier uniform than the others. To my spiritual sense, those three in particular shone as the only titaniums in a contingent otherwise composed of bronzes. None of them carried weapons, at least not that I could see.
“Thoughts?” I asked Charlotte as she sized them up.
“They know I’m iron,” she deduced immediately. “They’re showing off titaniums to remind me that here that’s nothing special. They’re backed by bronzes as an acknowledgment that even with a long road ahead of me, I’ve still surpassed most sect members. Under normal circumstances greeting a new arrival with higher-stage cultivators could be construed as threatening, but they know as well as we do that Lucy could kill them all with a single shot if she wanted to.”
“I’m surprised your father didn’t come,” I said. “Even my dad would’ve shown up at the station if he hadn’t seen me in three years.”
“He sent my cousin.” Charlotte nodded at the titanium leading the group to our left. “If he’d come himself, it would’ve looked like the other faction heads were spurning Lucy, so they would’ve had to come too. Only the Black Maw gets that kind of welcome. Greeting Lucy with the same fanfare would be tantamount to declaring a visiting soulship as important as our liege.”
“Do you recognize the others?” Micaiah’s voice shook a bit as she spoke. I placed what I hoped what was a calming hand on her shoulder. Our eyes met.
“Middle is Gary Morris, Liam’s cousin and thus the Sect Master’s nephew. Right side I don’t recognize, but given the theme I’d wager it’s Darla’s nephew—Cassie’s son—Austin Urlitch,” Charlotte explained. “Don’t know any of the bronzes, but I’m sure that’s on purpose.”
The sound of Lucy’s gangway lowering cut an end to our discussion, prompting us all to turn away from the window and depart the observation deck to make for the exit. Charlotte took the lead, flanked by Xavier and Micaiah as the trio that would be joining the Right Eye proper. I kept a step behind, the prosthetic core Jeremiah had given me carefully set to bronze.
As I understood it, ceremony would’ve had us stopping just shy of stepping off Lucy’s gangway to greet our hosts, but because they’d stopped at the hangar’s entrance and Lucy’s ramp came out the side, we couldn’t actually see them. Charlotte took the initiative to break protocol and circle around to Lucy’s front, stopping short just below her nose.
In unison the fifteen bronzes snapped a salute. We followed suit with distinctly sloppier choreography. The three titanium cultivators saluted last, looking down on us from their higher vantage.
Lucy, lacking both arm and forehead, did not salute. Instead, with a cold imperiousness that felt foreign on her voice, she spoke. “Presenting Xavier Honchel, Micaiah Ferendin, and Charlotte Velereau for induction into the core membership of the Dragon’s Right Eye.”
The middle one, Gary Morris, replied. “The Dragon’s Right Eye bids welcome to the venerable ancient and her charges. You honor us with your presence. On behalf of my uncle and the entire Right Eye, I’d like to offer you this hangar and its attached amenities and staff for you and your crew to use at your leisure.”
Austin, son of the woman who’d sent an assassin after Charlotte three years ago, veered off script. “It seems we’ve failed in our communications with you, honored elder. My utmost apologies. I’ll have to have maintenance team look into the integrity of our comms. In my foolishness, I labored under the impression that one Caliban Rex would be joining us.”
I opened my mouth to answer his snark with some of my own, but Lucy beat me to it.
“The last time I left my charge under the care of the Dragon’s Right Eye, one of your elders made an attempt on his life. Caliban shall remain with me. You’ll find Miss Ferendin a more than worthwhile talent to foster in his stead.”
The smile on Austin’s face twitched slightly, but didn’t falter. “Of course. Far be it from this lowly scion to question your wisdom.”
“Welcome back, Charlotte.” The final member of our welcoming committee managed to sound like he actually meant the words he said. “It’s good to see you safely home. Everyone at the estate is so eager to hear all about your adventures in the… greater system. You’ve certainly done spectacularly for yourself.”
“Thank you, Pierre. It’s good to be back,” Charlotte replied.
“Mister Honchel, Miss Ferendin,” Gary reclaimed control over the conversation, gesturing with two fingers for one of the bronze cultivators behind him to step forward. “Lindsay here will show you to the domicile that has been made available for you. I’m sure she’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have about how we do things here in civilization.”
“Is that what you call this?” I bit my tongue even as the words came out, too late to stop them from escaping my traitorous mouth.
I wished I’d kept my Vac Suit going, whatever message an active technique would’ve sent, if only to insulate me from the sheer hostility radiating off the gathered sect members. If looks could kill—and I’m pretty sure there’s some cultivator bullshit that’d manage that—the glare from Gary Morris alone would’ve violated more than a handful of restrictions on indiscriminate weaponry.
“We can’t all have your…” Gary paused as if looking for the right word, but I got the impression he knew exactly what he wanted to say. “…background.”
“Of course not. Earning a vac welder cert requires actual work.”
“Cal!” Charlotte hissed.
“I suggest keep your charge in check, ancient one,” Gary spoke past me to Lucy, as if to the parent of a misbehaving child. “You’ll find the Right Eye far larger than this hangar, and few honorable men would let such insults go unanswered.”
“Thank you,” Lucy diplomatically replied, “honored scions of the Dragon’s Right Eye, for your warm welcome. I’m confident you’ll take exceedingly good care of my passengers.”
Gary’s grin widened, its vague superiority giving way to a sinister edge. “We wouldn’t dream otherwise.” He paused for a moment, letting the message settle, before changing the subject. “Before we depart to allow you time to relax after your journey, I’d like to formally extend the Sect Master’s invitation to a reception he’s holding to honor the brave heroes who rescued our brothers and sisters in arms from beneath Ilirian. It should prove a diverting engagement.”
My holopad buzzed as he spun on his heel and strode from the hangar, his group—save Lindsay—parting to allow him past before following. Austin’s cluster left next, while the third and final group remained.
“We’ll meet back here tomorrow, like we planned,” Charlotte told us under her breath. “Try not to offend anyone, and agree to nothing without consulting me first.” She strode forward, raising her voice. “Shall we? I’m sure father is simply dying to speak with me.”
Pierre grinned. “Of course. We have a transport waiting to take us…” His voice trailed off into the distance as he led his group and Charlotte alike out of the hangar.
Lindsay, as far as she knew now among the highest tier human cultivators remaining, straightened. “Alright. Let’s get you two settled, then.”
Micaiah lingered, her eyes meeting mine. “See you tomorrow?”
I nodded. “See you tomorrow. Stay safe.”
Lindsay scoffed, but thankfully didn’t comment, as Micaiah and Xavier moved to follow her.
Once they were out of hearing range, I faked a sniffle. “They grow up so fast.”
Lucy made an unamused huff. “Unlike some people, who never do?”
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked as I stepped back aboard and headed to the kitchen. “Just let him insult us like that? I’m not a part of their sect. I don’t need their resources. I see no reason to engage in their power games.”
“You’ll make things harder for the others,” Lucy said. “For Micaiah especially. You and her are the two outsiders here.”
“For all I knew, not rising to the bait would’ve been just as bad. He decided to be hostile. I only snapped back in kind.”
“Then you should’ve let Charlotte reply instead of taking the initiative yourself. She knows these people. You don’t.”
I let out a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I probably owe her an apology.”
“Something for tomorrow. Are you heading out, then?”
I nodded, grabbing the items I’d left on the dining table and shoving them into my pockets. “Gotta find someone to appraise the stuff we found in Lesley’s storage. May as well take the opportunity to get the lay of the land.” Before I left Lucy’s soulspace, I made a point of turning the dial on my prosthetic soul all the way down, dispersing the field of qi it emitted into a dull cloud around my entire body. To the sect members who were almost certainly watching, it would look like I’d boarded Lucy a bronze cultivator and stepped back out a mortal.
“Be careful,” Lucy warned me as I navigated her halls.
“It should be fun.” I shrugged. “There’s no way everyone on this station’s a dick, right?”
Comments
Austin
Has there been a listing of cultivation levels?
Observer Whimsy
This is a fantastic start. I really missed Cals snarkiness
