A Pattern of Details

By James Matt Cox

This is the riveting story of Guild Technician Morris Taylor, the master of his craft and the quintessential professional at his trade. The story begins with an assignment to train a group of students in the Halcyon Autonomous Region, a government outside the Trade League that Morris calls home. At first his work seems mundane until he and his group are snatched away from their classes to find themselves on an expedition to an undiscovered archaeological site from the ancient Terran Imperium. Morris' journey is fraught with accident and mishap; more than coincidence can explain. That's when he discovers he's in an interstellar game of cat and mouse with him as the mouse and the stakes higher than he wants to face: his life, the lives of his friends and a potential interstellar war! When he finds himself and his party stranded on a deserted planet weeks away from civilization he must match his wits against an unknown saboteur who is always one step ahead. If he wins then he and the others survive. If not it's certain doom for that planet and hundreds of others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Matt Cox
• Release date: Oct 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393987970

Book preview

A Pattern of Details

by James Matt Cox

The story presented here is fiction.

Any similarity to any person, group or entity living, dead or virtual is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2013 by James M. Cox, Jr.

Free Edition Notes

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Version Code 201002

Books by James Matt Cox

A Pattern of Details

The Dungeon Crawl Unlimited fantasy RPG system

Open Source Tools for Independent Authors

Vortex Portal

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The Children of Wisdom

The Dawn of Wisdom; Beyond Wisdom; Flashes of Wisdom

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Books in the Stone Blade series:

Stone Blade; Double Bait

The Radical Factor; The Burning Crown

Expedient Measures; Lethal Max

The Border Incident; The Blatant Prey

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The Moons of Epigaea

Sage's Moon; Reaper's Moon; Hallow's Moon; Planter's Moon

This book is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Isaac Asimov:

a true hero and role model for yesterday and all of its tomorrows.

- - - - -

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

-The First Amendment to the

Constitution of the United States of America

Chapter 1. An Ordinary Day

A screaming alarm woke Morris from fitful, nightmare-riddled sleep. When he breathed his throat burned from the deadly toxic compounds in the atmosphere. The air recycler, the source of the alarm, shuddered and shook to a halt. He donned his near-depleted respirator automatically as he tore into the balking machine. He didn't waste time cursing the lack of parts or the patchwork he'd already done. He didn't have the time for it. He traced the problem as quickly as he could and fixed it as best he could.

The recycler hummed raggedly back to life. Just before he fastened down the last access panel it died again. This time the repair was even harder and the unit didn't last thirty seconds before something else shorted and broke. He tried to patch it yet again but to no avail.

It's gone, he said. Then, after a pause. There's nothing more I can do.

As he fastened down the panels and gathered the useless, burned out parts Morris thought back along the trail of bad decisions and reckless actions that brought him here, starting with the first.

***

Guild Senior Master Technician Morris Taylor scowled and adjusted his holospecs. The complex circuit swam into focus and just that quickly he saw the problems with it. He applied a delicate touch of silver and two dabs of insulation. Most Techs would have used a precision guide but he didn't want to waste the time setting it up. A few scrapes of a cleaning probe later he had the major repairs complete and ready to connect. He set the thinner-than-a-hair optical fibers, spliced them into place and began extracting himself from the machine.

By the time Morris fastened down the access the machine, a line repair monitor, completed its powerup diagnostics and started integrating itself back into the building's net. By the time he reached the supervisor's office the line itself had reconfigured and started working up to full speed. Delvecchio Metal and Plastic now had a fully functioning hover-canopy production line.

Morris beeped the supervisor's office and entered. Lon Delvecchio, the founder's grandson, looked up with mild irritation.

I've completed repairs, said Morris. The line is ready for full load now.

Delvecchio's irritation turned to surprised satisfaction. He checked his terminal and smiled hugely.

So it is. Very impressive, Technician. You know you were authorized another four days on this.

Morris shrugged. No need for it. The repairs weren't that extensive.

Well, I won't argue, said Delvecchio under a raised eyebrow. He pulled out his exchequer and scribed a chit. Here you are, Seigneur Taylor. Thank you.

As Morris signed and sealed the repair order and receipt he noticed the bonus there. Most of his assignments calculated cost per repair time and he usually collected a hefty bonus.

As Morris walked to the linear station he ran his hands absently across his toolbelt. Though neither impressive nor imposing it was the sine qua non of effective and efficient repair. It consisted of a belt and harness festooned with tools, supplies and extensors but its true power came from the smartsystem hardfibered into it. From the first day a Tech started training he or she began learning the toolbelt even as the toolbelt learned its owner. By graduation and certification the Tech knew the toolbelt and the toolbelt knew its Tech on an automatic and almost subconscious level. By virtue of this Techs could carry and keep organized the myriads of specialized and general tools required for their jobs.

At the station Morris checked his chrono and examined the linear schedules. It was almost too early to call it a day but by the time he reached the Guildhall it would be too late for another assignment. Morris jacked into a public comm, checked his messages and smiled. He had exactly one, it came from his supervisor and it read 'Good enough, go home early.'

The second stop after he boarded the linear Morris rose to give a young lady his seat. She smiled briefly then started talking on her comm. Apparently she heard quite a bit she didn't like. Her expression fell and she looked ready to cry. She left at the next stop but he didn't try to reclaim the seat. When the hovertran sped up for a long stretch he felt several lurches and jumps that shouldn't be there. This particular linear would need servicing soon.

The linear finally pulled into Eastfaire South Plaza. Home. Not for the first time Morris regretted not living closer to the Guildhall. When he received his Junior Master cert three of his friends and former trainees convinced him to move out of the hall billets and into better quarters. His supervisor at the time supported the idea so Morris moved. Now two of the junior Techs and that particular supervisor had moved away from Dracos and into other assignments. Morris still had the same apartment they picked for him.

Shaking off that thought Morris walked over to the closest financial kiosk. He logged into his bank, deposited the chit and made his usual allocations to his brokerage. Even after the Guild deduction he had a respectable amount of money. As long as the Member Worlds of the New Stars Sovereign System States Trade League didn't collapse he had ample savings. He felt secure.

***

Morris sat in front of his powered-down holocad, idly contemplating his evening. Ordinarily he'd study for his upcoming assignments but he had none. He had long since read and digested the Guild technical journals and nothing in the civilian ones interested him. He'd cleaned and serviced his toolbelt and now it hung on its rack charging.

The apartment reflected its owner. The most comfortable chair and very nearly the only one sat in front of the holocad terminal. The pictures on the wall were holographic or flat circuit schematics or color-enhanced process flows. The odds and ends populating the spartan shelves and tables were kinetic do-nothings Morris built from parts too poor to recycle but too good to discard.

Inspiration struck with a growling stomach. He hadn't eaten out in a while and now, by the stars, he deserved a celebration. For his evening out he chose a white shirt with gray trousers and cloak. Guild colors. Before he left he slipped a penlaser and minikit into his pocket.

The Good Knight's Repose, his favorite restaurant, nested between a modart theater and a trend club, all of them New Renaissance themed. Nonetheless the Repose maintained an air of quaint hospitality along with a truly varied menu. With a nod to the hostess Morris walked toward the table in the corner.

Morris. Mo Taylor. Here.

Morris looked around and smiled at the man waving to him.

Kel. It's good to see you, said Morris as he approached the table.

If that were true you'd do it more often, said Kelven McCrory, one of Morris' first trainees on Dracos and now himself a Senior Tech. You must be celebrating tonight. Join us?

As usual McCrory had a companion for the evening.

No. I don't want to inter...

Blather, interrupted McCrory. If you're out partying there must be a platinum reason for it. Have a seat, Mo.

Aware now of several amused looks on him, Morris sat.

Po-larity, said McCrory. Mo, this is Terri Jenkins. Terri, Morris Taylor. The best Tech on Dracos, no exceptions.

Pleasure, smiled Jenkins.

Umm... Likewise, said Morris with some difficulty. Jenkins was truly gorgeous.

So what's the occasion? asked McCrory. You finally solve the Eleven-Space Unification?

Kel-ven, scolded Jenkins. You be nice.

I finished the Delvecchio assignment early, said Morris. I didn't have another one in the queue so Reichsson sent me home early.

Pyronic, said McCrory. That's... Wait a milli. Wasn't that a two-week authorization?

Morris shrugged. I finished early. It wasn't really that hard, just a lot of detail work.

McCrory shook his head sadly then grinned wide. That calls for some tunes, then. Don't leave.

Morris considered just that but Jenkins pinned him with a hand on his arm.

Kelven was telling me about the Tech who trained him. Was that you?

Y-yes. He was a fast study but he liked to take short cuts.

She chuckled at that. I believe it. Did you two really spend nine hours in an active fusion chamber?

Yes. Morris smiled at the memory. Kel though we'd be cooked crispy but the chamber wasn't really that active. It was on sub-ignition hold and damped. Not even really fully active but there are a few things that can only be done within a hot chamber. It's considered good training for new or impatient Techs.

But nine hours?

Well... We skipped lunch.

Lunch, said McCrory as he sat. I thought this was dinner.

Fusion chamber, said Morris.

Ahh. Hrm. McCrory cleared his throat. I suppose it does make a good story. I ordered for you, Mo, so I hope your taste hasn't changed.

Morris shook his head.

Slib. Now fusion chambers are interesting but we also spent time on an orbital station. That made me nervous, for truth. Not the danger of hard vacuum or solar radiation but about the slave-driver I had for a trainer. We hadn't even stowed our packs when...

Morris sat back and let the words wash over him. McCrory made even the simplest tasks fateful and did so with a nodding acquaintance to the truth.

With the meal a pleasant memory McCrory talked Morris into a trip to the club next door. The Wench and Wagon was not a place Morris would have chosen but Jenkins added her request and he simply couldn't refuse. They found a table and waited for the current music, far too loud for conversation, to abate. Morris looked around uncomfortably, counting and calculating the ratio of ladies to men. The last song stopped suddenly and Jenkins, with a pat to McCrory's arm, grabbed Morris' hand and pulled him toward the dance floor.

Jenkins did her best but Morris simply could not dance. After the second time they bumped another couple he tried to keep a better watch which didn't improve his dancing. Or lack thereof. By the time the music stopped he moved woodenly at best. Jenkins smiled warmly but Morris knew there was no way he hadn't embarrassed her beyond repair. She leaned toward his ear.

Thanks, hon. We'll do this again.

Morris smiled, more for the kind words than anything, but he knew the truth. In their absence McCrory ordered drinks. Jenkins took a quick sip of hers, grabbed McCrory and headed back to the floor. Morris found his drink stronger than he preferred. For some reason he didn't mind.

McCrory and Jenkins returned to the table halfway through Morris' drink. McCrory's skill at dancing rivaled his technical expertise and Jenkins' exceeded it.

Oh, ruddy nice, said Jenkins.

She spoke as the band started blaring primate. They seemed determined to complete a full set and the harsh rhythm along with a complete lack of melody made conversation impossible. Jenkins cuddled up into McCrory's ear and Morris decided to give them some privacy. Besides, the air had grown hot and heavy.

Morris walked a casual few steps into the cool, damp air, grateful for the lack of noise. Tendrils of an ache tensed his shoulders so he worked to relax them. After a minute or so his ears quit ringing, his head cleared and he began entertaining thoughts of returning.

Hi, doll. Light?

When he looked up he found that voice attached to a very attractive lady with a drugstick and two companions.

Umm... Hi, stammered Morris. He made a show of checking his pockets. S-sorry. I don't... Umm... No.

It's polar babe, smiled the lady. Stay pyro.

The three walked away before Morris could unstick any words. Uncomfortable now, he started back into the club. Just outside the door a pair of ladies stopped to give him a heavy appraising look. Before he could even think to speak they visibly dismissed him and walked away.

As Morris walked home a dark mood settled over him. He carefully analyzed the evening, his mistakes and what he might have done differently. No optimal solution vector presented itself so he spent a hot shower modifying assumptions. Still nothing. Now clean from his shower he took a headache tablet, checked his messages and went to bed.

***

Morris sat outside his supervisor's office with no small curiosity. Upon awakening he found a message scheduling an early meeting. Though not unusual it was far from common. He typically received his assignments two or three at a time through the Guild netsite.

Come in, Morris.

Jacob Reichsson always brought to Morris' mind a man carved of solid granite. His hands, one of which he held out, looked entirely too large and clumsy for delicate work but all who knew him knew better. Only his administrative skills, which surpassed his technical ones, kept him off the line. Reichsson himself didn't particularly like the fact but the Guild simply did not waste talent.

You'll be wondering why you're here, said Reichsson, taking a chair and pointing to another.

Yes sir. Did BidinCo file a complaint?

Hades no, said Reichsson after a moment to recall. They were completely in the wrong. They knew it, we knew it and the Arbiters knew it. Drew Poltano saw their solicitors, looked at the initial grievance and offered to rip them open.

Morris winced at that. Poltano, an Arbiter with both seniority and experience, brooked absolutely no foolishness from persons within the Guilds or outside of them.

For truth, continued Reichsson, he informed them that not only did you comply to their altered work request but you provided another ten hours above and beyond without billing them. That much he told me. His secretary told me later that he was ready to pull Tech authorization for them and all their subsidiaries pending a full audit. He chuckled at this. No, Morris, this is completely different. What do you know about the Halcyon Autonomous Region?

Morris thought a moment.

Light population density for its size. Not too far from here, decent economy, good trade relations with the League in general and the Brytan sector in particular. Border or proximity with several governments either controlled by or closely allied to the Consortium.

Reichsson nodded.

Likely targeted for a Consortium takeover if they get the chance, continued Morris. Not currently at war but capable against anything but a full Consortium push.

Which makes them strong League allies, said Reichsson. Navy Liaison contacted me officially. They're assembling a team for an extended mission there and they want to include a highly-qualified Tech. It will be for an extended tour and I want to send you.

Morris frowned at this. I'm not up for another three months, sir. Why me?

Three reasons, said Reichsson. The mission is an extended tour. You don't mind those or at least you haven't in the past. Second, they requested someone with at least a 3C clearance and yours is 4C. Finally, I trust your judgment both to represent the Guild and not to cause an interstellar incident.

Morris nodded. That's sufficient for the official reasons, sir. What else is there?

Your observational skills, said Reichsson dryly, "along with a gut feeling.

"I don't know what Liaison wasn't telling me but I know for all the wine on Spiral there's plenty more under the garble. You're plus-plus sharp enough to handle it and handle it properly.

By what I have you and several others are to train a group of students on certain aspects of League technology. This coincides with the transfer of several surplussed Navy ships to the Halcyon government. The military part of the team will be training their folks on those while the civilian members teach technology and science or at least our approach to it.

Training. That unsettled Morris somewhat. While he didn't mind training 'prentice Techs he didn't feel comfortable with more than one at a time.

I know you don't like it, said Reichsson, but I do want to send my best. So. Do you accept?

Will do, sir. When do I leave?

Reichsson gave him a relieved smile and a box of datacubes. Day after tomorrow, 0800 at the Navy side of the port.

Morris took the 'cubes and rose to leave.

Morris... Thanks.

***

Morris took the datacubes to the hall library to review them. As he suspected he had at least a full day of work ahead of him. He started by digesting relevant information on the Halcyon Autonomous Region. Though it did not formally border the League most systems near the edge of the Brytan and Quinde sectors considered it so. From what Morris read so did many of the systems within Halcyon itself.

Although quite a distance from the Consortium Halcyon did indeed border or lay within proximity of five close allies, two of which the Consortium effectively owned outright. Almost between it and the League lay the Coral Nebula Federation, itself strongly influenced by the Consortium but with some League trade. As a result Halcyon had a good military infrastructure but a tight one.

Economically Halcyon was stronger than its neighbors, if only minimally so in several cases. More importantly their legal structure encouraged business both large and small and worked to keep all of them strong, much like the League. That as much as the military concerns made them staunch allies.

From the general information Morris moved into Halcyon's legal statutes, particularly the ones involving the Guilds. After a very shaky start Halcyon established very strong and very strict trade treaties. The strongest of these applied to the Merchant's Guild whose eagerness to flood the region with trade sparked early fears of a League takeover.

Morris felt himself smile as he read the summaries. Of the four Guilds Merchant's drew the most complaints, all from sheer eagerness. Those early negotiators in the Halcyon government wanted no part of a League annexation and erred on the side of isolation to prevent it. Thirty years of careful negotiation later they had an acceptable balance of League trade along with internal growth. The Merchant's Guild accepted willingly enough and began diligently trading within the bounds allowed them.

Technology-wise Halcyon was considerably inferior to the League. That surprised Morris not at all nor did its policy of self-development. While individuals might desire cutting-edge League tech the government and large corporations would use nothing they themselves could not manufacture or maintain. That suggested Morris' next avenue of investigation and a beep from his chrono postponed it until after lunch.

Morris chose a cafe across from the Guildhall. Techs and Guild support staff made up most of the people there and Morris waved at several he knew. He started for his corner booth when he saw McCrory staring at him.

You are disgusting, said McCrory by way of hello. You look like you've been studying all morning.

I have. I went to bed early last night.

As I said... McCrory tried to hold a stern look but it quickly degenerated into his characteristic grin. You left way too early, Mo. Terri has a friend. Sylvie. She likes Techs. She arrived after you so rudely departed. Smart, friendly and drooly to the point of thermal. And she likes Techs. Very disappointed that she didn't meet you. We're having a cozy dinner for four tomorrow night. That includes you, by the bye. Did I mention Sylvie likes Techs?

Morris felt a cold knot forming in his stomach.

Sorry, Kel. I can't make it.

Six-sigmas you can. If you don't show we'll come by your apartment for you.

No blather, Kelven, I can't. I'm outzoning day after and I have a lot of prep to do.

Heaven's flames, you're serious. McCrory considered this. You're not up for a long time. What happened?

Reichsson advanced me. He said it might be a long tour.

What's the assignment?

Halcyon Autonomous Region. Standard training run plus mission support.

Mpf, grunted McCrory. Standard as platinum from pizzle drips. Do you watch LNN? Halcyon's right in the middle of Corpse space and likely to go that way. They're closer to the Rift and the Rift Consortium than they are the League. The Navy's been posting cautions to HAR space for years and that's simple fact.

Will you phase down, Kelven. If you cared to check Equality News Watch you'd know the Halcyon region is a lot closer to us in economy and in attitude. LNN's only torqued because Halcyon won't give them permanent exclusive.

McCrory shook his head, then grinned. Well, at least I tried. Four words, Mo: you, me, Terri and Sylvie. Call it a going-away party. Tonight or tomorrow night. You can't spend all that time on a terminal.

No.

Morris...

I said no, Kel. I really do have a lot of prep work.

McCrory shook his head. One of these years, Mo... He sighed and checked his chrono. You take care of yourself. I'll have Sylvie waiting when you come back.

***

Morris spent the afternoon and most of the evening studying. Teaching worried him. He never trained more than one at a time but the Guild had ample resources and curricula for nascent Techs and civilians alike. Morris flagged everything remotely touching what he might need, filtered it for Halcyon and League-external clearance and ordered it 'cubed. Then, sheepishly, he canceled that order and re-sent it for dataspools.

As evening fell and turned to night Morris studied Halcyon culture. Though League-like it was not the League. Halcyon literature, music, art and popular culture followed different paths. As he worked Morris thought of McCrory and his offer more than once. More than once he started to comm him but each time his priorities reasserted themselves and he returned to his work.

The next morning Morris felt distracted. Strange dreams haunted his sleep, unusual, and the seeds they left continued to bother him Very unusual. Finally, disgusted, he took an early lunch and gave his fancies free reign.

His last swallow of tea brought Morris realization. He wasted no time returning to the library where he keyed in several narrow and specialized queries. Success. He smiled as he read, certain now of his distraction.

The League predated the Halcyon government by almost two centuries but it took a long time for it to reach the Brytan sector. Although the Terran Imperium collapsed with the Interim well-advanced by the time Halcyon formed, all of the systems within it and around it had a strong Imperium influence. The Claudian Resolve, a moderately large collection of systems near both Halcyon and the Quinde sector, held its Imperial structure through the Interim. Its government still bore a loose resemblance to the Imperial Senate.

Fortunately for Morris and the League, the peoples of Halcyon rejected the heavy-handed measures so beloved by the Imperial legions. They kept their government closer to the ideals of the Imperium and not the realities of the monster it became: only large enough to accomplish its purpose with minimal intrusion into its citizens' lives.

As late afternoon approached Morris faced a quandary. He needed to do some shopping but he wanted to continue his research. With no good reason to put it off he closed down his connections, powered down his 'pad and rose. He checked his few valuables into secure storage and considered carefully where he needed to go.

If Morris' presence surprised the shop owner he hid it well. When Morris explained his needs the man led him to the back of the shop.

Here you are, Tech. Certified for out-of-League travel, spool based and still hot to the slot. The terminal and datapad mesh and smesh seamlessly and securely, plenty of memory and extra standard adapter ports and datajacks. If you take the hologame unit I'll throw in a game library for half-price.

Morris casually popped open the terminal and examined it then repeated the process with the datapad. The game unit was underfibered for any kind of load but he could fix that.

Thank you, said Morris. I'll take all three. And the games.

Back at his apartment Morris cleaned all of his purchases, blew the memory and installed his favorite applications. Once he had the system images configured to his satisfaction he chipped them and copied them. He looked at the time and considered calling McCrory but decided instead to prepare for his trip.

Packing took not long at all. Likewise pre-paying his modest bills, preparing his apartment and notifying the owner. Morris had ample time for a relaxing cup of chog and a long shower before retiring for the evening.

Chapter 2. A Trip Offplanet

Morris rose early the next morning, powered down his apartment and headed for the starport. He ignored the public entrance in favor of the one 'port Techs used, nodded to several he knew and made for the Naval complex. A quick check with the receptionist there gave him the proper berth and office, both of them on the far side of the complex.

You are late, Technician.

Morris withdrew his half-outstretched hand and neutralized the scowl trying to form on his face. The man sitting at the neatly cluttered desk before him didn't look up.

Your luggage and equipment arrived yesterday. Have you made your arrangements here?

Of course. Morris fought hard the urge to add sir. Military spiff and attitude oozed out of the other man.

Good. Now the man did look up. I am Keith Blakeschiff and I am in command of this mission. You will be more fully briefed as it becomes necessary. You will also need to draw a sidearm for this mission. See to that immediately.

Blakeschiff looked down with obvious dismissal. He spoke crisply and efficiently with no wasted motion or speech. Morris forbore a reply as he left the office.

Good morning, sir.

The voice belonged to a young midshipman approaching Morris.

Good morning, midshipman.

You're our Tech? Slib. I'm Transient-Sparkle-of-Moonlight-From-The-Flower-Beside-A-Peaceful-Pond Kody, Kody offered his hand. but most people call me Tran. That was your initial brief with the commander so we need to get you settled, truth?

"Yes,