The Stuff of Legend: Ptorix Empire, #5

By Greta van der Rol

When history professor Olivia Jhutta receives a distress call from her parents, she sets out into space with their business partner, her grandmother, and injured Confederacy Admiral Jak Prentiss to find them. But she's not the only one interested in the Jhutta's whereabouts. The Helicronians believe Olivia's parents have found an ancient weapon which they can use to wage war on the Confederacy.

 

Jak goes on the trip to fill in time while he's on enforced leave, helping Olivia follow cryptic clues in what he considers an interplanetary wild goose chase in search of a fairy story. But as the journey progresses and legend begins to merge with unsettling fact, Olivia and Jak must resolve their differences and work together if they are to survive. The two are poles apart… but it's said opposites attract. If they can manage to stay alive.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greta van der Rol
• Release date: Jan 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386042907

Greta van der Rol

Greta Van der Rol crafts intricate space opera worlds with epic quests that captivate readers from the first page to the last. Her books will keep you reading in one sitting!

Book preview

A secret revealed

GRAND PLUTARCH ORMANOV brushed his fingers over fragile parchment yellowed with age. The Ptorix characters flowed across the surface, alien yet beautiful in their intricacy. The script meant nothing to him. He looked up at the man seated on the other side of the table. Are you certain, Professor?

Quite certain. I've had my translation checked with other scholars. Professor Lengdorf paused and raised a finger. "Without, of course, giving them context for the passage. We are agreed that the reference must be to a weapon. If you look at the second passage, about halfway down, it states clearly 'The ship was within our sights, their deaths were at hand, when a power from the moon struck it. It vanished from our screens amid a huge explosion.' The professor spread his hands. What else could it be but a weapon?"

Ormanov stroked the parchment again. This might be just what he needed to break free of the Confederacy. He could be Grand Plutarch in fact, as well as name, Lord of all the planets of Helicronia.

Admiral Zemper stirred. Where did this happen? And when?

We've dated the document to about four hundred years ago. Unfortunately, not all of the pages have survived.

Zemper rolled his eyes. So you don't have a location. Wonderful. It's a four-hundred-year-old weapon, but we don't know where it is, and we don't know if it survived. There are millions of suns out there, the Almighty knows how many planets and moons.

Lengdorf 's lip pushed out. If it's a Gh'ria weapon, it would have survived.

Oh, the Almighty save me. Let me give you a tip, Professor. Gh'ria don't exist. They're legends and stories to frighten children.

You may mock, Lengdorf snapped. But historians don't dismiss legends. They look for the kernel of truth.

Ormanov raised his hand. Please, gentlemen, bickering will get us nowhere. Nevertheless, Lengdorf, Admiral Zemper is correct. Do you have enough information to locate the planet in question?

The crestfallen expression was sufficient answer, as was Zemper's smug smile. Ormanov let the moment extend a little longer. As it happens, I believe the professor is correct. This message was sent by our most intrepid explorers, Paul and Rhea Jhutta, to their daughter.

He pressed a button on his desk to display a recording of two excited people. "This may be the break we've been looking for. See you soon," the man said.

Zemper fingered his chin. With respect, Your Eminence, that isn't much to go on.

Perhaps not. But these people have been very successful in locating lost civilizations in the past. You might recall Kulong Gar. Moreover, Paul Jhutta is fascinated with the Gh'ria. The circumstantial evidence is sufficiently strong to be worth following up.

In that case, we bring them in and interrogate them.

Ormanov smiled. It will not be so simple, Admiral. They have disappeared, but there may be a way to discover where they went.

Home coming

OLIVIA PAID THE CAB driver and stepped out onto grimy pavement, her case settling down beside her. The sign above the shop window needed refurbishment, the lettering tired and faded, but it still read Jhutta's Antiques & Collectibles. The neighborhood hadn't changed much since the last time she was here three years ago. Same motley collection of shops in the shadow of the Cathedral, its two massive horns dominating the skyline. Maybe everything looked meaner, shabbier, with less goods in the food shops, and a bit more grime on the flagstones. The shop next door had changed hands, though. The smells emanating from the fast food joint turned her stomach. Whatever had happened to Mister Carruthers' book store?

Oh well. Time to face the past. Sucking in a breath she unlocked the store's front door and stepped inside, her case following her. Lights flicked on, casting a glow over crowded shelves of vases, mugs, groups of statues, urns, plates, and glinting silverware. Pictures and tapestries filled the walls so that the cream bricks were barely visible. Memories flooded. She picked up one of the tiny soldiers from a group, a space marine in green and black armor, an overlarge weapon cradled in its arms. She'd played with these — or earlier versions of them — as a girl, watching fascinated as her father arranged them into armies while he told stories about long forgotten battles.

But that was then.

The door rattled behind her and she spun around, her heart thumping.

Oh. She sagged and put the soldier back. Come in, Chuk.

Her parents' business partner, Chuk Lombardi, was one of those men who seemed to have been born middle-aged, with stooped posture and dark hair greying at the temples. He took off his hat. Sorry I couldn't pick you up from the space port.

That's okay. He had a new, much younger wife and a new baby, who was apparently unwell. To each his own, in her opinion. She'd never had any ambition to be a mother.

He dithered, turning his hat brim in his hands. Are you settled in?

She glanced down at her case. Not yet. I'll be fine. We need to talk.

He nodded. Can I make you a cup of tea?

A decent cup of tea would be nice. They just didn't seem to get it right on commercial flights. Sure. She gestured at the back of the shop. Lead on.

Chuk sidled between the shelves behind the counter and into a small kitchen, Olivia at his heels. Light filtered through a dusty window with a view of the stone wall at the back of the narrow courtyard. She pulled back one of the mismatched chairs and sat down at the table while Chuk busied himself with hot water and mugs.

She wrinkled her nose as a whiff of fast food drifted from the neighboring shop. What happened to Carruthers?

Helcops. Said he sold subversive material. Chuk's lip curled as he poured steaming water into the mugs.

Helcops. The religious police. That was surprising. They don't have any authority here, surely?

Not legally... yet. Chuk put both mugs on the table and sat down in a second chair. But Carruthers was visited several times by a couple of scowling heavies from the cathedral. The new Grand Plutarch, Alexei Ormanov, is stirring up the faithful, calling for a return to the good old days of the theocracy. Bitterness colored every word. Carruthers closed up shop and went over to Cinnabar last year.

The good old days of the theocracy? Olivia shuddered. She'd gained her doctoral degree on just that slice of history. Who in their right mind would want to go back there? Except the plutarchs, of course. Is the theocracy coming back? I know there's always a religious fringe, but you said 'yet'.

He shot a sideways glance at her. They're growing in power. Ormanov is persuasive, and people are looking back at a time when there was work. They forget the other stuff.

The other stuff. Yes, history was full of it, planets that threw off the yoke of oppression, then found themselves hankering for the good old days when they were seen as 'great powers' even if food was scarce and people disappeared. She brushed the thought away. Let's get down to it, Chuk. Can you tell me any more about my parents? Where they went? Why? Any more on where that clip came from?

Chuk held the mug in both hands and let the steam rise in front of his face. No. I've looked at it over and over, asked my friends in the freight business if they could work out where it came from. He shrugged. Somewhere out toward the Maidens was the best they could do, based on the first relay to pick up the message. The precise origin part of the signal was corrupted.

Olivia sipped, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat. She'd copied the vid to her chip and couldn't resist looking at it again. Her father's face, tight and anxious. "This is Voyager III. Something's wrong... and then the picture and sound blurred. Failing... more blur. Landing at..." and brief vision of a blue and white planet and a splash of green before the picture disintegrated into static.

I asked the same questions at the university.

Same response?

She nodded. What was the last message they sent you before they left?

He raised his hands, palms up. The usual sort of thing. Found a hot lead to the Gh'ria, we'll tell you all about it when we get back.

Mm. I got that, too.

Chuk, hesitated, put his mug down. Do you believe they're dead?

That was the question, wasn't it? Olivia twirled the mug in her fingers. I don't know. It's possible. They could have crashed, been eaten by something. So many ways to... The word stuck in her throat. Die.

Chuk leaned across the table. But you don't know that.

She sighed. No, I know. That's why I'm here. I suppose we both need answers. And so does my grandmother. She drank another sip of tea. I suppose you've searched everywhere here? She glanced out the door at the shadowy shelves in the shop.

Everywhere. There's nothing in the shop that could connect to Paul and Rhea disappearing. The last lot of sale items they brought back was from Kulong Gar. The usual sort of thing. It sells pretty well, but it's not in any way unusual, if you see what I mean.

Olivia did. If her parents had come across something special, they wouldn't have been selling it in their shop, and they would have kept it secret. True.

He cleared his throat. I... er... searched the apartment. Looking for clues, you know? I hope you don't mind.

No, that's fine. Did they leave any records at all?

He shook his head. You know how secretive they were. If they'd found something new, they didn't leave it lying around. Never did.

That was true. Nobody knew where they'd been until they returned. Did you contact the police?

Chuk pulled a face. I didn't have much to tell them. Paul and Rhea submitted travel docs for Kulong Gar. I wasn't worried when I hadn't heard from them, that's how they are. Then that vid came through. I checked Kulong Gar and they never arrived. That's when I contacted you. The thing is, Paul and Rhea have done this sort of thing before. When they discovered the Kulong Gar site I didn't hear from them for two months. Other times, too. So the police aren't interested. As the man at the desk said, no crime has been committed on Belledura, in which case it's not part of their jurisdiction. We're going to be on our own, but I'll do all I can to help.

Thanks, Chuk. That certainly made her feel better. And there was Grandma.

The older man scratched at his cheek. Um... I did find something... Flushing, he dug something out of his pocket and held it out to her.

She received the object in her palm, a silver disk smaller than the top of her pinky, anonymous and innocuous.

Paul came to see me at my house just before he left and gave me that. Said it was for your birthday. And... er... I forgot about it. Jemma didn't have the easiest pregnancy. He licked his lips, his expression begging for forgiveness. I just forgot about it. Sorry.

Olivia turned the disk over in her fingers. She'd wondered why she hadn't heard from her parents on her birthday. Still, these things happened. In fact, it wouldn't have been the first time they'd forgotten.

Chuk stared at her, shame-faced. Paul said I was to give it to you next time I saw you.

She slipped the object into a trouser pocket. It's a secure message. Dad has a device that can read and write these, and I have another one. You can't read the message if you don't have the matched reader.

Chuk rolled his eyes. Why couldn't he just have left you a message capsule?

Olivia's nerves tingled. Because Dad didn't want anyone else to be able to read it? Including Chuk? Was this something to do with what had happened to her parents? Are you and Dad still on good terms?

He smiled. Yes. Why wouldn't we be?

Sure. Silly question.

Chuk fiddled with his cup. Are you going to watch the message?

The reader's in my case. It's probably just a birthday message. I'll have a look when I get to Grandma's.

He frowned. What if it's a clue?

If it is, it won't hurt to see it tomorrow. Grandma will be interested, too. She needs closure as much as we do.

He didn't appear to be convinced but he nodded. One thing I can offer; I've been invited to a government reception this evening because the Confederacy Fleet has arrived for a goodwill visit. Jemma can't come with me because of the baby, so why don't you come? It'd be a good opportunity for you to meet some people, maybe ask some questions.

She cringed. Oh Chuk. I'm an introvert. I hate receptions.

Everyone who matters will be there. Independent freighter captains, Fleet officers. If you're going to go looking for Paul and Rhea, it might be a good place to get some information. Maybe sound out someone to take you out there.

That was a thought. She hadn't considered what to do next beyond come home, talk to Grandma and look for clues. But in the end, she'd have to go on a search. She'd taken six months leave from her position at Riewald University to do just that. Only now it was real.

How come you're invited to this reception?

I'm president of the Independent Trader's Guild. Threeb is putting on a big show of happy citizens for the benefit of Prentiss.

Threeb was the planet's president, but, Prentiss?

Admiral Prentiss, Confederacy fleet. Ormanov will be there, too.

A reception. She quaked at the thought. Is it formal? I don't have clothes for that.

Your mother is sure to have something suitable. You're about her size.

Damn. Come on, Olivia. You're stumbling before you've even started. Okay. Come and get me. What time?

Chuk grinned. It was amazing how that smile lit up his face. Great. He stood, his hat in his hand. Quarter to seven. Gotta go.

Sure. And thanks. For everything.

He hesitated, a half smile on his lips, then jammed on his hat and walked away. The front door tinkled as he left. So old fashioned. Olivia washed the mugs and wiped down the table, then went back to where she'd left her case.

She tapped the control to have it follow her behind the counter and around to the steps that led to the upstairs apartment. Steps. Anywhere up to date would have had an elevator, at least. But her parents never spent much time here. She climbed up, her footsteps muffled by the carpet, and opened the door marked PRIVATE.

The place smelled of neglect. Dust had gathered on ledges and left a fine patina on the table top, although here and there streaks and marks were indicators that Chuk had searched the place. Nothing had changed from when she last visited. The central living area was one big room with a kitchen at one end. Whatever else her parents might be, tidy wasn't one of them. Two used cups sat in the sink. Appliances hadn't been put away. A few pots and vases collected from digs sat on flat surfaces. A couple of holos hung on the walls. One was a family portrait; Olivia as a baby with her mother and father, with Grandma beaming in the background. Dust had gathered on the frame.

A door to the left opened into a short corridor that ended at the washroom. Her parents' bedroom with the big old double bed was on the side facing the street. She absently straightened the box on the nightstand. Her bedroom was opposite, neat and dusty and needing air. Olivia opened a few windows and let the curtains billow, shrugging away the ghosts of the past. Many years had been and gone since she called this place home. Her parents had started traveling again when she wasn't much more than five or six, leaving her with her grandmother.

Home was Grandma's, not this neglected camping spot.

Olivia took out the silver disk Chuk had given her. The processor for it was about the most modern item her parents owned. She and her mother had bought the pair in a store near Riewald University two years ago, just in case they ever needed to exchange a private message. Mum and Dad had visited the school to attend a conference about alien civilizations, and spent a bit of time with her. So good of them. She shook her head at her own bitterness. She'd thought she was well over those feelings.

Maybe she should look at what it held?

Her own reader was tucked away in a secure pocket in her case. She started unpacking, then hesitated, a shirt in her hands. Why do all that? She'd go to Grandma's tomorrow and she and Grandma could read the disk together.

She refolded her shirt, taking care to have the collar just so, and put it back. She had a few hours to pick something to wear to the reception this evening, and get her bedroom into a reasonable state of cleanliness. She certainly wouldn't be sleeping there in its current state. She stood. Oh, the reception. Her stomach churned. Maybe she could get out of it, tell Chuk she was ill? Don't be silly. It's no different to attending a conference with your peers.

But I won't know anyone.

You know Chuk. Besides, you'll be smarter than most of them.

There was that...

CHUK ARRIVED TO PICK her up at quarter to seven, as agreed. He'd taken a cab, rather than try to find parking near the venue. He looked dapper in a black, high collared business suit, the outfit brightened with a yellow cummerbund. Olivia wore a pale blue evening gown she'd purloined from her mother's closet. Strange that a woman who spent most of her time searching through archaeological digs should have such clothes. But perhaps not. Although the dresses were rarely worn, they were there if she wanted to.

You look lovely, Chuk said, giving her a thorough once-over. Be careful of those fleet officers. They say this new admiral is a bit of a lady's man.

Olivia slipped into the back seat beside him for the short drive to the town hall. I can't imagine why I'd even meet him. He'll be hanging around with Threeb and Ormanov.

Both the cathedral and the presidential palace on the opposite side of Cathedral Square glowed with light. Back in the old days the Grand Plutarch lived in the palace, but that had been before the revolution. Now the building was mainly used for occasions such as this reception. Olivia noted that the palace had been restored to its former glory some years before, but the cathedral was now catching up. A little more evidence of the rise of the plutarchs. The cab joined the row of vehicles depositing people in front of the wide steps leading to the building's foyer. Olivia's nerves danced a tango as elegantly attired couples made their way inside. Then it was her turn to climb the steps and enter the reception hall.

The din of competing voices boiled out of the room and into the foyer. She quailed. All those people. Officers in the red and blue uniform of the planetary military, white for the Confederacy Fleet people. More businessmen in black, accompanied by women in brightly colored dresses. Several clerics in purple robes with high lace collars stood in a group. Her heart beat too fast, her breathing short and shallow. The figures morphed into a featureless cacophony of sound and color.

Okay? Chuk's voice seemed to come from a long way away.

She forced herself to breathe deeply, focusing on one figure, then another. Yes. I'll be fine. They were just people. People at a party.

Chuk guided her without touching toward an attendant with a tray. Might as well have a drink. I'll introduce you to a few people. He made his way over to a group of men and women. Meet captains Brown, Mahata, Kendon, Chalmers. Each of them nodded when their name was mentioned.

This is Professor Olivia Jhutta. Paul and Rhea's daughter.

Mahata, a handsome older woman, asked, Are they back, then?

Chuk shook his head. If any of you have any ideas about what might have happened to them... He gazed from one to the other but they all shook their heads.

Brown shrugged. Pleasant enough, but they were pretty secretive.

Asked lots of questions about the Maidens, Kendon said. A couple of the others nodded.

Olivia fiddled with her glass. You think they went there?

Who knows? Maybe. Paul had a thing about the Gh'ria and the Maidens. I guess I wouldn't be surprised.

Chalmers snagged a drink from a passing attendant's tray. If they went in there they'd need to be careful. The Ptorix don't like humans invading what they think is their space.

Olivia hadn't considered that. Maybe the Ptorix had taken her parents prisoner? She asked if anyone thought that was likely.

I suppose it can't be ruled out. Mahata set her empty glass down. But there's enough danger in a place like that without the Ptorix. Strange gravitational distortions, radiation, dust. And the place hasn't been properly mapped.

The Maidens. Olivia knew a number of folk stories about the star cluster and the mysterious Gh'ria, but didn't know any about real exploration. Have any of you been there?

Chalmers exchanged a glance with Brown. "Not actually in there."

It's out of the way as far as trade routes go, Mahata said. You might find a smuggler willing to risk it, if they trade with the Ptorix, but there are easier routes.

Smugglers. Olivia made a mental note. "Do you know of anyone who has gone there? Any stories?"

Kendon shuffled his feet. There are plenty of stories.

Olivia turned on her best smile. Please tell me. Any stories, especially about anyone who actually went there.

An official reception

THE OFFICIAL SKIMMER slowed and stopped outside the presidential palace where the reception was to be held. Jak waited for the attendant to open