Prologue

0 B.E.S.

Nexus hung glowing in the viewer like an orb jeweled in blue and green as General David Nagashima floated into the command center of his flagship, the Burning Star. He grabbed a handhold and gently pulled himself into the chair at his station, keeping his eyes on the approaching world as he strapped himself in. Years of hard fought battles, scores of comrades dead, and millions of lives lost on both sides had led to this moment. The translucent holographic glow of the world as it rotated in the center of the room, a sphere within a sphere, only heightened the unreality of it, that they had actually made it to the enemies’ homeworld.

Nagashima turned to look as a small, slim figure entered the room. Leader Skalnin kept the intense gaze of his narrow eyes on their target world as he floated in, his face assuming its customary scowl. He gave a curt half-nod to the general as he strapped himself into a chair next to the door. Nagashima had mixed feelings about the Leader’s presence- he detested the man personally, and felt an instinctive revulsion to the powerful sorcery he wielded, but he confessed to himself that he felt relieved to have such a powerful ally as they faced the inhuman terrors that awaited them.

A hint of a wry grin flitted across the General’s lips- he couldn’t resist needling the honored Leader just a little. “Welcome home, Leader Skalnin,” he said, almost managing to keep the irony from his voice.

“Bite your tongue, General,” said Skalnin in his soft, brittle tones. “This place is no home to me. I was born here, trained and shaped here, but no Godless place such as this can be home to humans who truly know themselves. I loosed my chains, and now I return to free my fellow humans- to teach them the true nature of the demons that they call master.” The Leader’s words carried the accent of his native Romañaa, as well as something strange and inhuman beneath the surface. Nagashima felt a cold wind in his heart at the sound.

“Praise be to God,” said one of the command crew softly. The invocation whispered its way around the room among the rest. This chilled the General even further. He considered himself a faithful man, worshipping the deities of his ancestors like most free people, but he harbored profound misgivings about the religious cast that had been given to this war. He failed to see why God, the Kami, or whomever you happened to worship, would make humans to be loved and cared for, and another species to be reviled and destroyed. He held his tongue, though- this was not a time when such doubts were looked upon kindly.

“Lieutenant Xi- what’s the status of our forward landers?” asked the General, subtly breaking the mood.

The Lieutenant checked her instruments. “They’re in the atmosphere now, Sir- they’ll be on the ground in two minutes.”

“Any sign of resistance?”

“No, Sir- not a thing.”

This was perhaps the most troubling news Nagashima could imagine. Throughout this long war, at each planet the Bieremen and their human allies (Children? Slaves? Nagashima wasn’t sure how to think of them) had fought bitterly to defend each orbital perimeter, each landing sight, every meter of ground. Their orbital battle spheres, powered by the dark magics of the men and women aboard them, had ripped many of the invading ships to shreds before they could mount a response. Only Leader Skalnin had saved them then- his eyes closed, he would whisper an incantation to himself, and the enemy vessels would all shatter, implode, disintegrate, or disappear entirely. The man’s power was truly terrifying.

Not for the first time, Nagashima cursed the luck that had brought his ancestors and their colony ships to this region of space. First came the discovery of The Well, a region in nearby space imperceptible to all except those who could tap its power to warp and stretch the very laws of physics. Then first contact with the Bieremen (the mysterious inhabitants of Nexus, named “The Others” in Pinyin by the crew of the survey ship that found them.) The Bieremen were seven in number only, but immensely powerful. Did they come from The Well? Did they create it? Or did they simply learn how to tap its power? No one knew. The Bieremen offered their hands (or appendages- they couldn’t be called hands, exactly), in friendship. Many had succumbed to their siren song- the ability to wield immense power, the keys to the universe. The Bieremen had taken their protégés into their care- building cities for them, teaching them a humanized version of their sacred language, and eventually breeding them like livestock to increase their magical abilities. The humans there considered it to be paradise.

Nagashima’s ancestors knew better, though. They turned away from the Bieremen, instead continuing to build their own society on their own worlds, clinging close to their human Gods and human traditions. A confederacy of free human planets, celebrating human gifts and talents. The two civilizations developed apart, sharing space in uneasy separation.

Until The Seven came. Seven humans to match the Seven Bieremen, bred to be perhaps the most powerful mages ever born of mankind.  The Seven learned powerful magics from their masters, until they came to see their worlds for what they were. Leader Skalnin and his fellow mages had escaped to free human space, bringing stories of their homeworlds with them. They told of horrors perpetrated by the Bieremen, and of humans who couldn’t even understand that horrors were being perpetrated upon them. They preached war- death for the Bieremen, freedom for all of humanity.

The story that the New Seven told sounded suspiciously one-sided to Nagashima. He had no love for the Bieremen and their followers, but he had had his doubts about the wisdom of the undertaking. In his years as the head of Krishna’s orbital defense forces, he had protected his home world from rogue asteroids and lead stunningly effective campaigns against interplanetary smugglers, but had rarely ordered shots fired in anger; in his experience, violence rarely solved anything. The war had been fully joined, though, his people committed. He felt obliged to defend his own, so he had answered the call.

As the war slogged on and the death tolls mounted, the General had conceived a bold plan. He had proposed to leapfrog the remaining worlds and strike out at the heart of resistance- the home world of the Bieremen, Nexus. He argued that eliminating the Bieremen now would destroy the enemy’s resolve, perhaps even ending the war then and there. There were fierce arguments over this idea in the upper echelons of the war effort, until Leader Skalnin unexpectedly threw his support behind the plan. Skalnin, the most aggressive voice in the War Council, had often butted heads with Nagashima; when both agreed on the same course of action, the rest soon fell into line.

So now, the General hoped, the war was drawing to an end. Where was the war, though? The silence, the absence of resistance, on the planet Nexus filled him with dread. What were they planning?

“Troops on the ground, Sir,” Lieutenant Xi notified him. “No enemy forces sighted.”

“Send in the second wave,” the general ordered. He received a crisp acknowledgement from the Comm officer, Lieutenant Janssen.

Nagashima tracked the yellow dots of the troop carriers as they descended toward the planet, flanked by the red dots of fighters. Complete absence of blue- no enemy forces in orbit. This wasn’t right.

Then he felt it- what was it? The strangest feeling- like shards of ice flying through his soul. Then it was gone.

The general heard quiet sobbing- was shocked to realize that it came from the Leader. Tears welled up, started to ball up over Skalnin’s eyes. “They’re gone- they’re gone,” the leader whispered, sadness and wonder in his voice.

“Sir- we’re receiving multiple emergency signals,” called out Lieutenant Janssen. “Engine failures throughout the landing force.”

Lieutenant Xi worked her console furiously. “Sir- our forward landers are gone. The… the reactors…blew.”

“Every one?” asked the general incredulously.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Call your landers back, General,” said the Leader, his composure regained. “Now- while you still can.” There was quiet steel in his voice.

“Do it,” commanded Nagashima. Lieutenant Janssen nodded acknowledgement as he relayed the command.

Skalnin pursed his lips. “This war is over, General. Your machines won’t work here anymore- or on any human planet, for that matter. I’m sure that similar ‘accidents’ are occurring all over human space as we speak. The probability of such events has been skewed.”

Nagashima let the enormity of that idea sink in for a moment. He was sure that the Leader was right- he always was in such matters.

“This… this Skew. How long will it last?”

“Quite some time. I’m not sure.”

“We’re not going home anytime soon, are we?”

“No- I’m afraid not.” The steel in Skalnin’s voice had given way to weary resignation.

“And… and the Bieremen?”

“They’re gone. This is their parting gift.”

Chapter 1

5046 E.S.

Coilean moved briskly through the cold, dark streets of Craobh Dearg, into the Old City; wrapping his cloak tighter around him, he pulled his hood up over his unruly mop of blond hair. The light of the occasional torch or lantern glinted off the broken glass and steel skeletons of ancient towers, lighting his way just enough for him to keep his pace. In the shadow of the immense old buildings, modern wooden structures of one or two stories were mostly locked for the night. Coilean caught glimpses of the occasional passerby- vendors quickly pushing their carts home after a long day on the street; a pair of police officers in leather armor, padded clubs and long knives on their hips.  As he passed a House of Knowledge, two Brothers of the order quietly entered, their hooded black robes covering their tall Voidling frames.

Coilean left the steel canyons behind as he neared the public gardens surrounding the Royal District. As the fires behind him dimmed in the distance, the brilliance of the night sky opened above him in all its glory. The Milky Way spilled across the sky like a bag of diamonds carelessly dropped on the floor; the small potato-shaped moon Aengus hung close to the horizon. Slightly to the right of Aengus, Coilean could just make out starlight glinting off the jeweled filament of an ancient orbital tether as it stretched into the sky.

Moving into a dark corner at the back of a small pavilion, Coilean recited a short incantation to himself. “Um-khro ak-vachal-ke keshtokh-zhe. Um-khro ak-vachal-ke keshtokh-zhe.” He focused on the meaning of the words in the Ancient Tongue, drawing his concentration into a fine point. After a moment, he knew he was ready. Stepping out of the shadows, Coilean saw another night patrol rounding the corner ahead of him. Walking quietly but confidently, he passed just a few paces in front of the well-armed officers, unseen and unnoticed.

The patrols increased as Coilean neared the palace. Again, he walked by them with no reaction. As he had developed his skills over the years, Coilean had learned to trust his abilities; it was still a relief to find that a shroud he had cast was working properly- there was no surefire way to know in advance. A firemage or healer could see the effects of their efforts immediately; they also rarely had to risk their lives to see whether their spells had taken effect.

The pre-Skew part of the palace, all glass and metal, loomed ahead. Beneath the largely unused tower, the newer portion of the palace came into view as he approached. It was a Skalnin design, giant stones shaped and fitted with improbable precision. The palace had been built by one of the old despot’s protégés, about fifty years after the rebellion on Krishna had forced Skalnin to flee, going only The Gods knew where. It was impressive work- built by a single engineer-mage using only his knowledge, magic and bare hands, the palace had stood unbroken for nearly five thousand years.

Coilean padded his way up the immense stone ramp leading to the palace gate. Two guards in Voidling-alloy armor stood guard by the entrance, one on either side. They wore katanas and dart pistols slung from their belts. The pistols had the look of Voidling manufacture, as well- simplicity of design and precision manufacturing designed to beat The Skew. The guards looked ahead, vigilantly scanning their surroundings but unaware of Coilean’s approach.

The gate was a wonder in itself- one giant lens-shaped stone, it hung suspended between two posts in the center of the circular doorway. One push on either side would send the gate gently rotating to reveal the entrance. As he neared the gate, though, Coilean veered to the right. He gently climbed onto the stone railing next to the gate, located the almost imperceptible handholds set into the side of the building, and began to climb.

After reaching the top of the wall, Coilean swung himself over the parapet onto a small terrace. A soft lantern light shone through a small window next to the doorway. As he walked slowly toward the door, he heard a familiar voice calling out softly from within.

“Come in, Coilean- the door’s open.”

I hate it when she does that, thought Coilean to himself.

        Coilean pushed the stout wooden door open gently and slipped into the room. The Mother of The World stood before him, her short, plump form in a heavy salmon gown to keep out the night air, the long black hair streaming down her back now threaded with gray. Her warm, round face still looked youthful- only a few smile lines showed in her olive skin, and her deep brown eyes spoke of mischief.

        “That’s not fair, Coilean- I can’t see you. How about I close my inner eye and you show yourself to me. Let’s just be two humans together.”

        Coilean shifted his mind’s focus, like opening his cloak and wrapping the two of them inside. He saw her eyes shift focus and take him in. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

“Mother,” he said softly. Coilean felt her wide, firm hands on his shoulders.

“None of this ‘Mother’ nonsense. The people require it of me, but I’ll not have it from you. Mairead will do, thank you.” She lifted him into a warm, maternal embrace.

Her ancestors had been The Mothers and The Fathers of The World since Ellen the Wise, one of The Seven, had been accepted as the ruler of Dagda five thousand years ago. Mairead’s true power was but a pale shadow of that wielded by her progenitors; Dagda’s planetary government had shattered into scores of kingdoms and principalities, but she still served as the Head of State for the entire planet. As the power of her office had diminished, the reverence of the people had only seemed to increase. Mairead was at heart a woman of simple tastes- the costume and ritual of her position had weighed upon her over time, and she longed to shed it when she could.

Coilean found it ironic that the one woman he thought of as a mother forbade him from using the title.

After a moment she held him at arms length. “You look well. Sit- I’ll pour some tea, and you can tell me of your travels.”

Coilean unclasped the broach of his cloak and laid it across a chair. He wore simple dark trousers, a tunic, and soft, sturdy boots; a long knife and a small purse full of coins hung from his belt. He gently sat at the small corner table near the wood stove and gratefully accepted the earthenware cup of tea from Mairead, wrapping both hands around it to feel the welcoming warmth within.

“So- your first time in the Bearla,” she started. “How was it?”

He thought for a moment. “Strange,” he said thoughtfully. “I always spoke with Master Caymon in Glish, but hearing it everywhere was… disconcerting.”

Coilean was a child of the Gaeltacht- he had grown up speaking Gaeilge, like most people on Dagda. The original settlers of the planet had come here to preserve their language, which had been endangered on Earth. When later waves of settlers had come, the original colonists had established the Free Language Preserve, where other languages could be given official status. Most of the later settlers spoke Glish, or Bearla as it was called in Gaeilge; the name of the language had stuck to the region.

Mairead saw the wistful look in his eye at the mention of his old Master. “I miss him too, Coilean. He trained you well, though. I’ve come to count on you just as I did him. My Sight has helped me to guide this world of ours through some rough waters, but I need eyes and ears that can go where I cannot. Tell me what you saw. First, tell me of Dr. Ivor.”

“He’s gone.”

Mairead pursed her lips. “Gone?”

“His offices are closed. He’s not at the University. I couldn’t find many who would talk, but I managed to shake out a few answers.”

That’s what Master Caymon had called it- shaking out answers. The subtle but jarring shifts in perceptions, just disconcerting enough to make the target vulnerable to letting things slip out unawares.

“It seems that government agents came and collected the Doctor and his team- packed all the records and equipment from the Institute into a train of Voidling wagons and headed off into the desert.”

“How long ago was this?”

“About three months ago- midsummer.”

“Earlier than I expected,” Mairead said under her breath. “And New Baltimore- any unusual goings-on in the city?”

“Well… I don’t have a lot of experience with cities in the Bearla. I’m not sure what exactly constitutes ‘normal’ there, but…”

“Go on,” Mairead urged gently.

“Well… there did seem to be a lot of Voidlings there. Not just Brothers or Sisters of Knowledge, or members of the Transportation Guild. Mostly in the Central Business District.”

“Hmmm.” Mairead thought for a moment. “And the Keep- what did you see there?”

“You were right- the Transportation Guild is shifting things directly into the Keep, bypassing the Customs House. It’s a large operation- they have shifters, spotters and pushers all quartered in the keep.”

Mairead’s brow furrowed. “What are they shifting?”

“That’s just it- I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. They look like Voidling devices. Not made for worldside, either. It looks like the convoluted pre-Skew stuff they’re still using up there.”

A hint of a mischievous grin lifted the corners of Mairead’s mouth.

“Can you show me?”

Coilean and Mairead stood together, holding hands. They had tried this once before; Mairead was not only a powerful seer, but also a talented facilitator. She could help others to refine and focus their magical efforts, creating new, previously unimagined effects.

They stood chanting together in the Ancient Tongue, their words weaving in counterpoint.

Coilean: “Khro-ag ak-vachal-khe ashtul-ghi. Khro-ag ak-vachal-khe ashtul-ghi.”

Mairead: “Tal-ag ig-vachal-khe teiaib-ghri. Tal-ag ig-vachal-khe teiaib-ghri.”

Based in abstract rather than concrete concepts, the Ancient Tongue was notoriously difficult to translate into normal speech. Their words meant roughly:

Coilean: “My sight is made manifest. My sight is made manifest.”

Mairead: “His sight grows from the past. His sight grows from the past.”

The air began to shimmer around them. Coilean felt the images in his mind’s eye become clearer as Mairead helped to focus his memory. Their chants shifted into a new mode, shorter and more intense.

“Khro-ag ashtul-ghi! Khro-ag ashtul-ghi!”

(“It’s becoming real! It’s becoming real!”)

“Tal-ag teiaib-ghri! Tal-ag teiaib-ghri!”

(“It grows from the past! It grows from the past!”)

Suddenly, the view around them snapped into a new configuration.

“Is this the Keep?” asked Mairead quietly.

“Yes.” Coilean divided his attention, part of his mind focused on keeping the illusion going.

In front of them was a large, windowless stone chamber. Around the perimeter stood members of the Transportation Guild- some Worlders, some tall, thin Voidlings. The trim on their grey coveralls showed their function- spotters wore blue trim, pushers wore red. All had focused their attention on the center of the room. A cluster of officials of the Southern Republic stood in one corner, waiting expectantly.

“You were in the room with spotters?” said Mairead incredulously.

“They had the door triple-locked. The only way I could get into the room was to follow someone in.”

She took a long look at Coilean. “Your shrouds have become powerful. Spotters are all trained seers. They can almost always sense the existence of a shroud, even if they can’t see it.”

The pushers had begun their work- hands outspread, chanting in unison. A strong gust of air hit Coilean and Mairead as the pushers used their force magic to evacuate all air and particulates from the center of the room.

Mairead looked at Coilean again. She had seen him combine sight and sound in his illusions, but never touch. She hadn’t realized how much his abilities had grown.

The spotters had joined in, chanting their own chant; some had eyes closed, making mental contact with the shifters in a space vessel high above Dagda. The others stared intently into the room, transmitting their vision through the mental connection.

Suddenly, a stack of Voidling containers shifted into existence before them. They stood about two meters high, filling most of the room. The air rushed past Coilean and Mairead as the pushers released their artificial vacuum.

Several local officials stepped forward to examine the cargo. One of the spotters handed an official a voidkey- he slid it down the side of one of the containers, and the adjacent side slowly opened. The official peered in, then gave a reassuring nod to his compatriots. He handed the voidkey back to the spotter. The spotter moved to slide the key back into his pocket, but missed by several centimeters. The voidkey fell to the floor with a loud clang; no one noticed.

Coilean grinned impishly at Mairead.

The entire party filed out of the room. Mairead heard the door lock- one, two, three times. Immediately after, she heard the door thrice unlocked. Footsteps receded down the hallway outside.

She grinned back at Coilean.

“Lets go examine these containers, shall we?”

Mairead saw that the key was gone and the container was open. By this point in the memory, Coilean must have already opened the container and examined the contents.

Mairead stepped over and looked inside.

“Let’s end this- time to go back to the present. I need to show you something.”

Back in the warmth of Mairead’s chambers, she pulled a voidbook off of a bookshelf and handed it to Coilean.

“Ancient Weapons,” he read from the cover. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“It’s hard to know what you don’t know,” she said. “The Brothers of Knowledge have been quietly reacquiring titles like this for a few centuries now. My ancestors made sure that they were kept safe here.”

Coilean opened the sturdy cover, began to flip through the thin metallic pages. The words engraved on the pages were impregnated with indelible ink; color illustrations showed the various weapons described therein.

“How old is this one?”

“Hard to say- I think about four-and-a-half millennia, give or take a century.”

Voidbooks- you could never tell if they were made yesterday, a century ago, or a millennium ago.

Coilean stopped about halfway through- there it was.

“ ‘Hand-held particle beam weapon’,” he read- all familiar words, but an unusual combination. His eyes widened as he read the description.

“This is dangerous,” he said.

“An understatement.”

“Why would they bring these worldside?” He read a passage of text aloud. “ ‘Unstable- improper maintenance may lead to a nuclear reaction.’ They have to know that these things will blow as soon as they power them up.”

Mairead looked at him silently for a few moments.

“Coilean,” she began hesitantly, “do you think you could find a way to get yourself aboard a Voidling ship? I need a better idea of what’s going on up there.”

It was funny how often their thoughts aligned- Coilean didn’t know if that was a side effect of her particular gifts, or simply simpatico developed through long acquaintance. He had been pondering this question ever since he had seen the suspicious activity in the Keep.

“I’ve been thinking about that one- I have some ideas. I think I can do it.” He looked at her, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

“I’ve been seeing a pattern develop, Coilean. You’ve helped me to put the final pieces in place. Let me lay it out for you- I think you need to know. What do you know of Dr. Ivor’s studies?”

“Not a lot. Boring but necessary work. The Institute of Public Safety is charged with testing all technology to make sure it doesn’t fail due to the Skew. I know that they’ve been doing the same thing practically since the Skew was created. Hardly a trailblazing field.”

“True. My illustrious ancestor, Ellen The Wise, signed the original charter founding the Institute. It’s still on a voidsheet somewhere in the castle archives. When Dagda began to fragment into different states, the Institute happened to be located in the Southern Republic- it’s been run as a local agency ever since.

“You spoke the truth- they’ve been doing the same work for millennia. Consider this, though, Coilean- how many new technological innovations have been introduced on Dagda in the past five thousand years?”

Coilean thought about that. “Hardly any. The Voidlings figured out the constraints of the Skew pretty quickly. There’s not a lot of room for innovation worldside. It’s mostly been small refinements. I guess there’s not a lot for the institute to test.”

“Unless the technology is not what they’re really testing.”

The answer suddenly dawned on Coilean. “The Skew! They’ve been testing the Skew.”

Mairead gave him a small smile. “Exactly. Ellen knew that there was no way of knowing how long the skew would last. She needed a dedicated team of researchers to test its boundaries through repeated experiments over time.”

Coilean could see where this was going. As he thought through the implications, a hard knot developed in his stomach.

Mairead saw that he knew, but continued to lay it out for him.

“Humanity was in the midst of a catastrophic war when the Bieremen sacrificed themselves to create the Skew. They froze that war in its tracks, but they also cut off humanity from itself, froze it into a new shapes, new connections. We were no longer ‘free humans’ and ‘alien lovers.’ Or ‘barbarians’ and ‘enlightened,’ if you prefer the other side’s terms. Through the accident of their location at the time, our ancestors became either Voidlings or Worlders.

“We each have things the other wants or needs.  Don’t tell me you’ve never been jealous of the Voidlings’ technology- I know I have. To keep to the ancient ways without fearing the Skew- it’s hard for a Worlder to even imagine. I’m sure most Voidlings feel the same way if they ever see pictures of our mountains, our fields, our lakes, especially our farms. I’m sure that they dream of walking free under our skies, of always having enough to eat without relying on Worlder farms and the Transportation Guild. I’m sure if the Guild didn’t maintain their stranglehold on transit to and from worldside, we’d see a lot more Voidlings than we do.

“The Bieremen froze our deadly game, but they didn’t end it. They did, however, reshuffle the deck- and I fear that the Voidlings have the stronger hand. Now the game is poised to continue.

“Coilean- the Skew is fading.”