Inheritance of Woe: The Saga of Bob, #5

By Brian Greiner

Bob has faced and defeated many horrors and dangers in his long life. Now he is facing the most difficult task of all — parenthood.

He's defended humans throughout the galaxy, but no good deed goes unpunished. Enemies from his past are re-emerging and looking for ways to do him harm. This time, though, they are targeting his family on their path to galactic conquest and domination.

With Bob and his family divided and on the run, those enemies think they've found easy targets.

This could get messy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Greiner
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781989360101

Brian Greiner

Brian retired from the software development rat race to take up the carefree life of an author. He lives with his wife and cats in Ontario, Canada.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

A Scattering of Breadcrumbs

Bob stood on the airless surface of Hinom and looked up to see his adopted home planet of Aesirna looming like a blue-green eye. A large, accusatory eye.

He'd been out on one of his regular solo trips and had forgotten to check back for messages as often as he usually did. Not forgotten to do it, if truth be told, but had put off doing it for as long as possible. He and his wife were on the outs again, and he was in no mood to deal with yet another sour interaction. The children were grown up enough to be going their own ways, more or less, with only his youngest son, Balder, still living at home on a full-time basis.

Normally when he checked in after trips such as this, one or other of his children would let him know when it was safe to return. This time, though, there was a message saying that his daughter had gone missing and the boys were off looking for her. That message was over a week old, and there'd been no others from them. There was one from Herja, his wife, that said only, This is all your fault. And, as usual, I'm the one who has to clean things up. There was nothing more from her, either.

Huffing out a breath to clear his mind, he tapped at the controls on his suit to link with the communications system installed in their house on Aesirna. The strange interference he'd detected on his private base was less, and he managed to establish a solid link. The house informed him that there were, indeed, more messages but had all been flagged for local access only. Bob closed his eyes and forced himself not to sigh or growl—such things tended to upset his environmental suit.

After thinking about it for a few seconds, he decided that it was unlikely that the boys had set their messages up that way, given that they knew he'd probably be accessing the system remotely. In all likelihood it was Herja's doing, an attempt to force him to return home. Unfortunately, his ship was back at the base, and he'd used the portal to get to Hinom. The courier ship that was normally docked here was gone, and the house informed him that the second ship was gone, too. That left him stranded out of reach of his home, with little in the way of resources.

On the other hand, 'little' did not mean 'none'. He tapped at his suit's controls again, this time querying the house for a status update. The security subsystem complained that there had been a number of attempted incursions via the fencing, all of which had been repulsed by the judicious application of voltage to the wires. Bob shook his head … his neighbour's herds often tested the limits of their travel. Upon checking, though, he found that of the several dozen attempted incursions, there were a couple that hinted at a two-legged intruder. There were also several attempts to infiltrate the home control system via the link to the public nets … all repulsed, of course.

Bob frowned at that, then queried to see if there was any local news of note that applied to his family. There were only two news items flagged of interest. The first was a small story written in a humorous style that mentioned the disappearance of several female university students after a long-planned weekend outing. The university was the one his daughter was attending. That, combined with the note from his boys, sent a chill down Bob's spine.

The second news item was actually a collection related to the single topic of how the security forces were investigating a series of recent attacks on the various information nets. Officials had been quick to assure everyone that no personal information had been compromised. Bob frowned as read about the extent of those attacks, whose timing coincided with the disappearance of his family.

There had been too many little mysteries cropping up of late, and now this. He'd had the feeling that something bad was brewing, and now that something had reached out to touch his family. Bob's face grew hard as he contemplated that thought. After the space of several heartbeats, he turned and went back to the small shelter that housed the portable portal. There was nothing more that he could do here with the resources on hand. It was time to return to the base and his ship.

* * *

Back at the base, Bob drummed his fingers in agitation on the arms of his chair. Something had happened to his family, something irksome at the very least and possibly much worse than that. He had the feeling that time was very much against him, so he needed to optimize his use of it.

His daughter had gone missing, his sons were off to search for her, and his wife had gone to search for all of them. On top of that, there was that new strange interference of the alternate energies. A soft chime interrupted his cognitions, signalling that the base's library system had found something of interest. Before he had left for Hinom, he'd set it searching for matches to the energy signature of the interference. There was no exact match, but the closest resemblance was to the quantum interference field the Nexus had used when he had attacked them.

The second thing to consider was the possible search radius. His own scout ship was three times faster than the courier vessels the others had, and given that they'd been away for a week, that narrowed the search down quite a bit. Still, that left five local star nations, each consisting of a major planet plus a variety of deep space colonies, and at least a dozen research facilities floating between the stars. That didn't include the countless ships, commercial and military, that flew between the star nations. He needed something to narrow down that search grid.

For starters, only three of those planets—Aesirna, Blitoth, and Frentah—were likely candidates. They not only formed a loose trading coalition, but the other two were far enough away that the courier vessels would still be en route to them. Those courier vessels, although slower than his own ship, were still far faster than local ships. For that reason, ships travelled there less frequently. A quick check showed that there had been none scheduled for the past month and none for the next couple of weeks. An unremarked-upon unscheduled flight was possible but unlikely.

The only other solid lead was the strange interference. He had a rough bearing, but needed at least two more to get even an approximate location. That could be accomplished by a trip to somewhere … but where?

Rather than dash about at random and hoping for the best, Bob decided to spend some time seeing what his whisper network had picked up. It consisted of a network of monitoring stations throughout this region of the galaxy, listening in on communications traffic from a number of the busier worlds. He had initially set it up while tracking down his brother's empire-building schemes. After those schemes had been smashed, Bob had not only maintained it but expanded upon it.

With the galaxy-spanning portal network destroyed many of those worlds were out of reach, but Bob enjoyed keeping an eye on things, nonetheless. His communications gear used the alternate energies, so the news they collected was only days out of date rather than decades or centuries. His favourite news to listen in on was the gossip exchanged by interstellar traders. The planetary news tended to be rather parochial, but the traders liked to brag—and swap lies—about a wider range of goings on.

Over the years, he'd picked up rumours and vague hints about big sales being made on the fringes of the known worlds. There was no clear indication of what that was, but that seemed to be more a case of traders not wanting to give too much away. Still, many of them couldn't pass up an opportunity to drop veiled brags. There were also tales of ships going missing, and the odd story of derelicts found floating in space without anyone aboard. Nothing out of the ordinary, perhaps, but Bob had noticed an increase of such tales over recent years.

There were also stories of the lighter sort. One such story concerned a new cult on a primitive planet that one small trading outfit made trips to. The locals told stories of a god-like being of glowing light who lived on a mountain in a desolate part of the world. That sort of story wasn't uncommon, but this god dispensed miracles: cripples made whole, serious illnesses cured, wisdom about improved farming practises dispensed, small luminescent globes that shone without ceasing. This new god didn't want worship, but did accept tokens of food and specific sorts of minerals. All in all, it sounded very much like something one of Set's band of followers would have done back in the day, but this report claimed to be only a year old. The only real oddity was that the locals had referred to the being as the melting god.

Set, and his attempted empire, were dead and gone. Some of his followers weren't unhappy about that, but others had sworn bitter revenge. They, and the rest of Bob's people, were supposed to be gone; ascended to a higher form of life and leaving the galaxy on a Great Journey away from regular humans. Or so he'd been told. The description of a god-like being of glowing light would certainly fit the Changed. The melting aspect might refer to the ability of the Changed to assume any form they wished, although their normal state was that of a large ovoid that glowed with a mother-of-pearl radiance. If this was one of the Changed gone rogue, it could very well be one of Set's former partners. If it was one of the ones who had sworn revenge, perhaps that revenge had been directed against his family.

It was pretty thin stuff, but was the closest thing to a lead that he had. The planet of this god-creature, Chrysor, was only a few days away, and would provide a useful baseline for taking a bearing of this strange interference. From there, it was only a matter of another few days to get to Blitoth or Frentah.

On the one hand, he begrudged those extra few days for the trip to Chrysor. On the other hand, anything that smelled of the Changed needed to be investigated as soon as possible. On yet another hand, that strange interference was something that could no longer be ignored. Bob had some ideas on how to tweak the ship's defences to deal with the quantum interference, as well as the Changed, and those extra few days could be used to make those changes.

It was time to take some direct action.

CHAPTER TWO

The Melting God

Bob circled the planet Chrysor and did a rapid survey of it using passive sensors. It wasn't long before he detected a localized source of the alternate energies. That signalled, at the very least, an artifact left over by his kind at some point in the past. The readings didn't match any ancient device that he was familiar with, but that in and of itself wasn't necessarily significant. There was no other sign of advanced tech of any sort. He'd detected a barren field that was being used as a crude spaceport, but there were no ships there.

The anomalous readings came from a mountainous area, set in the middle of lush forest near the planet's equatorial region. An examination of the area showed a rough path that led through the forest and to the mountains. There were a number of deep valleys that appeared to be unused by the locals, so Bob chose one and landed the ship within it. He donned his normal gear consisting of a skin-suit, but added some light armour to it. The armour would be of little use against one of the Changed, but allowed him to carry a larger load of sensor wands and other gear. This was one meeting that he wanted to make a thorough record of. After a bit of thought, he added an anti-grav pack to his kit. It added to the bulk and weight, but was something that had proven invaluable in the past.

It was the matter of an hour's stiff hike to get out of the valley and onto the rough path. The path led up the mountainside in a series of switchbacks. Bob paused several times to catch his breath and dispense sensor wands along the way. The view, when he got above the tangle of the forest, was pleasant enough but nothing special. After a time the rough path widened, eventually becoming a small plateau the size of a large house. The rocks at this point rose above Bob by several body lengths, forming a wall with but a single opening slightly wider than his own broad shoulders.

Glancing at the sensor readings, he could see that the whatever it was appeared to be on the other side of the wall. Pausing to take a sip of water and adjust his pistol in its holster, he stepped through the opening and into a short twisting corridor that opened up into a natural amphitheatre. In the middle was a pile of boulders. Resting atop the pile was glowing mass of something that was about twice his own volume.

The colour of the thing was, for the most part, an iridescent mother-of-pearl but with faint streaks of other colours. As Bob approached, the mass shimmered, wobbled, then rose up into the form of a thick ovoid, somewhat taller than Bob. The ovoid rose up a body length above its resting place before floating serenely down to meet Bob, stopping two body lengths away.

This display intrigued Bob, as he'd never seen one of the Changed move so hesitantly or with such lack of control. The colours of it were like nothing he'd seen before, either. His face displayed none of this, though. Bob looked at the ovoid and said, Hello. I'm Bob. I thought all of you had taken the Great Journey. Mind telling me what you're doing here?

The ovoid spoke in a booming voice, I know who you are. You may not recognize me, but … The ovoid wobbled for several seconds before sinking to the ground and forming a shapeless blob. After a few seconds the blob shuddered several times, rose, then rearranged itself into the form of a naked man of Bob's size. Sorry about the excessive volume, he said, in a more normal volume and tone. Easier to speak in this form. The expression on the man's face was one of constrained mirth, as if he was the keeper of a secret joke. Glad to see you again, after all these years. You're looking well, all things considered.

Despite his best efforts at keeping a neutral expression, a startled look flashed on Bob's face. He examined the other with care for several seconds. The face and form were of a young man, but the face was lined as if from age or pain. After several seconds, recognition came to him.

George? What are you doing here? He paused for a moment before adding in a worried tone, Are you alright?

George chuckled in apparent good humour. Yep. More or less. Can't hold this form for too long, but it feels good to do it once in a while. Glad it's close enough to my old aspect that you were able to recognize me. He paused for a moment then snorted. But enough of my woes. How are you doing? Haven't seen you since you kicked my ass that time I tried to kill you.

At the neutral look on Bob's face, George gave a hearty laugh. Oh, don't worry. You won fair and square. He chuckled again as he added, And I deserved it. His mouth quirked into a wry grin. I was a mess back then, that's for sure. Took the Change training and got cleaned up good and proper. You did me a real service, and I am in your debt. I swear that upon my honour.

Bob's neutral look changed into one of mild surprise. Uhm, OK, George. Glad it went well for you. You seem, uhm … His voice trailed off.

Sickly? Looking like death warmed over? George said in a helpful tone as he grunted a laugh. Not far from the truth, in fact. We can get into that later. First, though, I'd like to hear about you. He leaned forward, an intense look on his face. So many rumours. So many lies. Truth is hard to come by these days.

Bob was quiet for the space of several heartbeats. He had stepped into a situation full of unknowns and dangers. It was best to proceed with some care. Well, he said, stalling to collect his thoughts. Not sure where to begin. He waved a hand at himself. Died and transferred my consciousness into a new body a while after we last met.

George nodded. Heard about that. Congratulations on not staying dead. Tears were shed when word of your death came to us, I assure you.

Bob uttered a sour grunt. Not by all. Or even most. I know where I stood with the Conclave in those days. Doubt that's changed much.

George waggled a finger. Don't underestimate yourself, Bob. I think you'd be surprised at how many—and who—felt grief. Then his face became sad. But there is truth in your words, it grieves me to say.

Both men were silent for several seconds. George spoke first. I heard you got married. Now that was a shock to us all. You of all people, getting married!

Bob laughed. Yep. Something of a shock to myself, as well. But these things happen.

George's face held a large grin. And three children. Three! Oh, your father brags about that a lot. His face became serious. You made him immensely happy, Bob. I'm glad the two of you managed to achieve a measure of reconciliation before he had to leave.

Bob cleared his throat. About that, George. It was my understanding that you were all leaving. For good.

George nodded. All except yourself, yes. He gave a heavy sigh. It's complicated, Bob. Much more so than any of us ever suspected.

How so? I know about how my shunning was the beginning for the Conclave's new agreement of purpose. Thought it was all clear sailing from there.

George barked a laugh. "Agreement? Oh, Bob, that was the least of our problems. You were the least of our problems. But no-one understood that for a good, long while." He looked off into the distance as his form wavered. It took several seconds before he regained his composure and control.

What do you know about the Change, Bob? He waved Bob to silence before the latter could speak.

Sorry. It was a foolish question. George sighed. What it boils down to is that it's not the evolutionary upgrade that the Eldest Ones claimed. Or, in all fairness, believed it to be. Yes, the training heals many of the hurts and pains within the soul. Many, but not all … and rarely completely. What's more, during that healing process old secrets, old hurts, and old grudges are revealed. Sometimes old feuds resurface, at least for a time. Most times it ends up being all for the best, with relationships healed and strengthened. But not always. Some just can't let go.

Bob thought on that for a moment. Hmm, someone like Kydos could hold a grudge for centuries. Her first attempt at the training didn't seem to cure those issues very well. He gave a wry smile as he added, Set up a nasty trap for me. Brilliant work with some impressive social engineering. But nasty for everyone, in the end. Had hoped that her second go-around would be more successful. She had friends with similar twists, too.

George nodded. A perfect example. But she and the others managed to successfully complete the training their second or third time around. Then he grinned. And, of course, as you yourself were fond of telling us, we aren't gods. None of us are perfect. After a moment he grew thoughtful. Still, for most people the process was tremendously healing. Turns out that even a modest healing of the spirit was sufficient for the physical transformation to be successfully induced.

Excuse me? interjected Bob. I was led to believe that the physical transformation was a result of the spiritual transformation.

Ah, that. Yes, well, you see, the Eldest Ones exaggerated that part just a bit. Turns out to be more dependant on a high level of control over our implants and healing factors. Focus and will, that sort of thing.

And no-one knew that? said Bob, aghast. The Change imparts tremendous powers. More than our implants ever did—and those caused enough grief for us over our history. Then realization of the implications caused him to look at George in shock and horror. The Eldest Ones knew nothing of this? What were they thinking, giving those sorts of powers out to people who weren't ready? To people like Kydos and her ilk?

A look of deep sadness passed onto George's face as he nodded. They meant well. Were convinced that the healing of the training would fix everyone. It had worked for themselves, you see, as well as the first carefully-selected individuals. Convinced themselves it was the next logical step. And don't forget the yearning for change, for improvement, during that time. It became a choice of them or Set's plan for empire … and you did a good job of narrowing that down to a single choice. Ignoring Bob's horrified expression, George continued in calm tones. It worked well, actually. Or well enough, for most people.

But not all, said Bob, his voice harsh.

No, George agreed, his voice soft. Not all. That's why we decided to leave, you see. It was decided that we needed to distance ourselves from the rest of you, the rest of humanity. Some believed that you lot were a distraction. Some wanted to protect you. A few—only a few, I promise you—saw humanity as a drag, an impediment, that held us back.

So there never was a new consensus, Bob said in a bitter voice. No great re-evaluation and re-birth.

George's form wavered and melted for several seconds before regenerating. You aren't the first to realize that, Bob. Not at all. Some of us began to question the wisdom of embracing the Philosophy of Change in the first place. Even questioned the Great Journey.

So you came back?

Not at first, no. We began looking into the Change more deeply and realized that the process could be enhanced and extended. Some of the Eldest Ones, you see, had powers greater than most. George's mouth quirked into a wry smile. Jealousy and envy aren't as vanquished as we'd hoped.

George looked off into the distance once again, as if seeing something far away. His voice was soft and calm. We were so smart, we thought. So full of knowledge and wisdom. He paused for a moment before continuing in a low, strained voice. So very, very wrong.

What happened? whispered Bob.

George's voice, still soft, held a note of pride. We succeeded. Figured out how to amplify the process to make ourselves their equals, and more. He turned his gaze to look directly at Bob. Remember that part in the Precepts of Survival that warns us that every success comes with a price? That every victory comes with the seeds of future defeat? We forgot that.

What was the price?

George gestured at himself. Instability of our new aspects. The Change process is irreversible, you see. No going back to what we were, so we figured to go onward and upward. To become more. To become better.

Everything has its limits, breathed Bob.

Yes, indeed, and some of us have re-learned that lesson the hard way.

How many?

George appeared to ignore the question. It all worked out at first. Incredibly well, in fact. The Enhanced—that's what we called ourselves—decided that our way was best. So much so that we began to insist that everyone join us. Most refused, so we became rather more insistent. For their own good, you understand.

Civil war, you mean.

George shook his head. It never got to that stage. Close, but not quite. A near thing, though. We were never a large group—seventeen fools, all told—and we discovered that mere power is no guarantee of success. Another lesson from the Precepts of Survival that we'd forgotten.

Oh, George, said Bob with a heavy sigh as he shook his head. Any deaths?

No, and that's the only thing that stopped matters from escalating. We've your father and youngest sister to thank for that. They were instrumental in kicking our butts and forcing a stalemate. Others, like Freida and Gertrude, demanded harsher action.

So you were exiled?

No, said George. The stalemate created disagreements throughout the Conclave. Serious rifts, and not just within the Enhanced. There was no more fighting—we'd come to our senses, thankfully—but less and less social cohesion. Then our own group's folly began to bear bitter fruit. The instabilities began to show up, and there is no treatment or cure.

Then he laughed. Great powers, but only for increasingly short intervals. Use of the alternative energies speeds up the process. Eventually, we lose cohesion and just sort of … evaporate.

I'm so sorry, George.

George shrugged. Our folly. Our reward.

Bob frowned as he considered what he'd heard. How long ago was this? It's been nearly twenty local years since the Great Journey began.

George grinned. I arrived here, oh, nearly two years ago local time. Left the Conclave about a week prior to that. At the look on Bob's face, he laughed. Increased powers, remember? It'll take the others most of those twenty years to get back again. If they bother to come back, that is. Lots of folks were all for carrying on.

Did all of you—all of the Enhanced—come back?

George shook his head. No. Some lost cohesion before I left. Some suicided. Some said they'd stay with the rest. There's only a handful of us that I know of.

How many, exactly?

George shrugged. Eight that I know of. Don't know if they're all still alive, though. We don't bother to keep in touch these days. No point.

I'm sorry about what happened to you, George. I truly am. Is there anything I can help you with?

Thanks, Bob, but I'm good. This is a good place to end my days, I think. There's a bit of natural radioactivity in this area which helps charge my energy levels a bit. There's a few local minerals that help focus it, and the locals bring those in exchange for a bit of help now and again. They drop off food, too. I don't really need it, but it makes for a nice snack. All in all, what I expend in using the alternate energies is balanced out with what they bring. And it's nice to feel useful without all the nonsense and trappings of pretending to be a god.

The two men stood in companionable silence for nearly a minute before George asked, So how'd you find me, if you don't mind me asking?

Bob grinned. The locals trade with some interstellar merchants. Tales told in local taverns got spread around to where I caught wind of them. Stories of someone setting themselves up as a local god are something I follow up on out of habit.

That got a laugh out of George. Yeah, that was how your brother and I did things for a while. Us and quite a few others. Then he became serious. Sorry to hear about his death, by the way. My condolences.

Thanks.

Speaking of your family, though, I've got a message for you from Ashira.

Excuse me? Is she part of your group?

George looked shocked. Oh my, no. She showed up just before I left. Don't know how she found out about it, but she's become something of a force of nature. George shuddered. Anyway, she insisted that I carry a message for you. Insisted most strongly. George shuddered once more. Made me promise to give it to you if we ever met. And she is not one I'd ever break a promise to or cross. He glared at Bob as he added, It seems to run in the family.

Bob just looked evenly at George and said, The message?

What? Yeah … it's in two parts. The verbal part is that you'll find an answer in Quinslax. Dunno what that means, but that's it. The second part is a sigil. Here, let me show you. George grimaced and closed his eyes to better concentrate. The air between them shimmered for a moment, then an image snapped into clarity. Bob studied the complex figure for a moment, but didn't recognize it. He memorized it as best he could, but depended on the hidden sensor wands to record the image. After a few seconds the image faded and disappeared. George sighed deeply and opened his eyes. He looked somewhat tired, as if the effort had cost him.

You get that? Need to see it again? Please don't ask to see it again.

Thanks, George, that's fine. Thank you for relaying it.

Do you know what it means?

Bob shook his head. Not sure. It's pretty cryptic. Going to have to do a bit of digging on this. Anyway, uhm, I guess I should be going. Spotted a group of the locals heading this way. Should be here in a few hours unless they stop for the night.

George nodded. Thanks, I noticed them. They typically stop not far away for the night, then approach just after dawn. Nice folks—they're polite that way.

Bob nodded as he said, Alright, well, I'll go and let you rest up. Nice meeting you, George. Sorry about the circumstances, though.

Thanks, Bob. You take care.

With that, George's form wobbled and reshaped itself back into an ovoid and began a slow journey back to his pile of rocks. Bob turned and began trotting away. As he reached the edge of the clearing, he glanced back and saw George settle as a blob onto the rocks.

Bob took great care as he returned to his ship to avoid the locals. He also collected the sensor wands he'd left scattered about, but left a couple in place. Before taking off, he set up a small communications node and synchronized it with the sensor wands. It might be an idea to keep tabs on old George.

* * *

After Bob returned to his ship, he lifted off and headed back out along the same path he'd come in on. His sensors indicated that George was still on the planet, and the ship was fully stealthed, but there was no sense in taking chances. The was no way of knowing exactly what the abilities of the Enhanced might be, but improved senses weren't out of the question. George probably knew his inbound flight path, but there was no sense in giving away his destination. A day spent backtracking was probably for the best. In any event, it was an unavoidable delay so might as well make the best of it.

After setting the ship to work looking at the sensor data he'd collected during his visit, he sat back to think on what he'd learned. The reference to Quinslax was easy enough: there was something of interest to him there. Still, there was fun interesting and horror interesting. His historical connection to Quinslax was very the much of the latter kind. Even now, centuries after the events that had transpired there, Bob's breathing and pulse rate quickened as memories resurfaced.

Quinslax was located on the planet Bob called Hell. His father had sent him there to learn the ways of war on a planet locked in perpetual combat. Unfortunately, the entire planetary civilization collapsed shortly after his arrival due to the social pressures of centuries of warfare, trapping Bob. After spending the centuries of his training finding ways of avoiding violence—to his father's great annoyance—he'd been forced to kill or be killed. It was a time of madness, both for the inhabitants and for Bob. His training and abilities allowed him to become so proficient at warfare that he'd been labelled War Demon by the locals.

The events at Quinslax were instrumental in earning that title. The rulers of that state had employed nuclear and biological weapons to ward off invaders, but their abilities outstripped their wisdom and the weapons leaked out upon their population. A horrific and deadly plague had been unleashed, and to prevent it from being spread to the rest of the planet Bob had been forced to kill everyone in Quinslax. After that, he'd burned the entire area to ensure the eradication of the virus. The released radiation ensured that no-one could re-enter the area for centuries. Madness piled upon madness, but he had done what he could to limit the destruction.

Bob leaned back in his chair, his eyes clenched shut, and forced himself to calmness. There had been a time, a time that had lasted centuries, when calmness would take days to return. Now it only took minutes, but still felt like an eternity. He grunted a self-deprecating chuckle…at least he no longer collapsed onto the floor and wept uncontrollably. It was progress of a sort, he supposed, but progress nonetheless.

After regaining control, he went to the mess and prepared himself a cup of tea. As he sat there cradling the cup in his hands, he wondered again why Ashira would send that single word. She knew about those horrific events, so perhaps that was the reason in itself. That is, a warning of something terrible coming. Bob released his right hand from its tight grip on the cup and used it to scrub at his scalp. It made a rough sort of sense, but didn't quite seem right. He stopped savaging his scalp and took a sip of the tea. The warmth of it eased the knots in his stomach, and he felt the tension in his body lessen.

That single word, a reference to a place of horror, was either a warning of something, a reference to a specific location, or perhaps both. The vagueness of it was probably a clue, too. After all, Ashira was making use of an insecure and untrustworthy channel of communication—George.

The meaning of the second part of the message, the sigil, eluded him. After several fruitless hours of wracking his brains and the ship's data banks, he put the problem to one side while he pondered the riddle of the disappearance of his children and wife. He was less worried about her, if truth be told. As a former mercenary and battle officer she was more than capable of taking care of herself. His children, on the other hand, had the arrogance and ignorance of youth … a potentially fatal combination.

Two days of travel and several detours later, he was finally back on track to his home base. It was only then that a faint memory of the sigil surfaced, and a quick check of the ship's data system confirmed it. It referred to an old, old story that he'd once related to his younger sister. It was a fable about a dread creature that had terrorized a village, capable of taking on the forms of both a dragon and a human female. As he recalled the story, the creature demanded that the villagers worship it as a god, and wreaked great damage until it was finally killed in its lair by a brave warrior.

That story did, indeed, have a certain echo of recent events in it. The obvious meaning was that someone—or several someones—of the Enhanced were on the prowl, possibly using Quinslax as a base of operations. George may have been the messenger, but was not to be trusted. Bob doubted that George was quite as out of touch with his comrades as he had let on. Which meant that the others probably knew that Ashira's message had been received by Bob.

In addition, while at Chrysor his ship had detected another faint burst of the strange interference. Combined with his other readings, he managed to calculate a rough triangulation that showed a focus in the vicinity of Frentah.

It appeared that there were larger forces in play than he had expected. He could only hope that his wife and children hadn't been caught up in them.

CHAPTER THREE

Tracking Whispers

Balder and Belinus had been tracking their sister for nearly a week and were beginning to worry. At the beginning, it had been merely an increasingly convoluted trail. It soon became tortuous, even by her standards. For most of the time, they had believed that she had gone off on one of her silly adventures, just sillier than usual. After a while it became apparent that however it had begun, something rotten had overtaken her.

Because her last communication said she was going on a weekend outing with friends, they'd started at her university and checked with her classmates. Celcilia had been the youngest student there, admitted at an early age because of her brilliance. Excited to be away from home for the first time and eager to prove her independence, she'd hidden her loneliness from her family, confiding eventually only in her eldest brother, Bel. Her desperation to fit in had led her on several outings that had not ended well. It seemed that while most of her classmates ignored her, a few taunted her, and some tried to take advantage of her youth.

Celcilia, while more than capable of defending herself physically, was a good-hearted soul who came away from such failed relationships hoping for a better tomorrow. Her brothers, however, were less trusting and attempted to counsel caution. A couple of times they'd had to step in surreptitiously lest Celcilia—or worse, their parents—find out.

Things seemed to have taken a turn for the better of late, and appeared to be looking up for her. She'd met some new friends who were from off-planet and feeling rather lost themselves. Her brothers were concerned, at first, but it all seemed innocent and casual as the weeks went on. Then one weekend they'd invited her along to meet their parents who were coming for a visit—all quite innocent and above-board. Celcilia had informed her family and left contact information—the day after she left.

When she didn't respond to messages from her brothers over the weekend, they were annoyed. When she didn't message them the day she was supposed to get back, they fumed. After a couple of days of hearing nothing from her, they began to worry. That's when they visited the university and began asking questions. Official rebuffs to their questions didn't bother them—Balder simply hacked into their data net to get the information they wanted. That led them to the names and background information of Celcilia's friends, who were also missing.

Armed with that information the brothers investigated the living quarters of those friends. Locks were as easily bypassed as the data net, but an investigation of those quarters turned up nothing of interest.

Well, this was a waste of time, Bel, said Balder.

Bel just grinned. Look again, Little Brother. What do you see?

Balder grunted and took a cursory glance around. Still nothing of interest. Tablets, a few hardcopy books, some clothes … nothing of use.

Remember Dad's lessons about looking for what isn't there? You've seen Cel's rooms, here and at home. Even those of a few of her friends back home. Again, what do you see?

Balder bit back a heated reply and took a deep, calming breath. He slitted his eyes and spun slowly in place. It's clean. No, not clean—almost barren. These friends are supposed come from well-off families, with confirmed financial resources. These quarters are typically used for upper middle-class types, yet … He let his breath out in a slow, silent exhalation. It's staged, he said in a definitive tone. Those data tablets held school-related stuff and precious little else. Everything here is school-related with almost nothing personal. That doesn't match with what Cel told us about them. According to her, they were vibrant and personable. These are the rooms of an ascetic.

Yep, said Belinus as he grinned. It's all just a bit off. Next question is, what to do about it? Mom and Dad are off on their private vacations again. He shook his head, suddenly serious. What's with those two?

Balder grunted. Dunno. Something's eating at them. Sometimes one, sometimes the other. Getting worse, though. You tried talking to them about it?

His older brother gave a sharp, dismissive exhalation. Yeah, as if. Tried to a couple of times and got shut down right quick. You?

Same. So … what do we do?

"Leave a message at home, for a start. Sometimes they check back for messages. Haven't done that their past couple jaunts, though. But we'll leave messages just in case, telling what we know. After that, do we contact the authorities or continue this on