Chapter 3
The planet Oswight was like so many other terrestrial worlds in the Waywork: a barren sphere of rock and sand, which may have once had liquid water running across its surface, but was now a desiccated, lifeless ball, with negligible atmosphere. Of the many hundreds of known planets spread throughout the Starstates, only five of them were Earthlike. Or, at least, comparable to the version of Earth which had come down to the present time, in stories and myth. Each of those five sat at the relative center of a different Starstate—clement capitals, from which their respective governments ruled.
Oswight, by comparison, was average: thin air, and terrain sparsely populated between underground settlements and the few bubble cities erected on its surface. The planet itself might have been ignored altogether, except for the fact that its three asteroid moons were each rich with industrial ores, making them ideal for shipyards and shipbuilding. Dome farms on Oswight’s surface kept the workers in orbit properly fed, while also providing them with a convenient place to relax and experience a touch of clement luxury.
Oswight’s main spaceport was also average: the atmosphere could not support spaceplane operation, so the port’s landing field was studded with gantries for ground-to-orbit-and-back clipper craft—the sort of tried-and-tested wedge-shaped vehicles which had served across the Waywork for well over a thousand years.
Garsina Oswight—of the First Family Oswight—watched through the curved safety glass of a spaceport observation tower as one such clipper craft blasted its way into the sky on a shaft of fire. There were at least a score of others, each waiting for liftoff. All being hurriedly packed with soldiers, ships’ crew, consumables, weapons, surveying equipment, and other necessities—the hastily assembled components of a hastily planned adventure.
Which Garsina herself intended to participate in, whether her father liked it or not.
“No,” Bremen Oswight said for the second time, slamming the heel of his knee-length black boot onto the metal of the observation deck.
“It makes sense,” Garsina said emphatically, not bothering to face her father’s angry glare. “I’ve devoted my schooling to study of the Waymakers, and this may be a once-in-a-millennium chance to unlock some of their secrets!”
The youngest heir to the Oswight Family title was not dressed in her usual finery. She had instead donned a snuggly formfitting charcoal-gray zipsuit more appropriate for trips outside the airlock than conducting matters of state. The zipsuit had impact and abrasion-resistant armor at the shoulders, knees, elbows, and hips, as well as limited meteoroid and radiation shielding. Armadillo pleating allowed flexibility throughout. If need be, an environment helmet could be attached at the collar, with a separate streamlined backpack for atmosphere generation and filtration. The zipsuit’s calf-high boots had thick tread and medium heels. As opposed to the sensible flats she ordinarily wore when participating in Oswight Family business away from home.
“If the expedition didn’t stand a good chance of meeting Nautilan gunboats on the other side, I might say yes,” Bremen said, his deep voice practically growling with disapproval. “But the truth is, we have no idea what’s waiting for Admiral Mikton’s armada once she gets there. The trip’s too dangerous, Garsina. I can’t allow it.”
“Three civilian starliners, two military long-range scouts, one oversized frigate, and the Oswight Family interstellar yacht hardly compose an armada, Father.”
“All the more reason for you to not go!” Bremen thundered. “There are other Waymaker experts to perform this work. Military experts. I need you here, since your brothers are away at the Constellar Council.”
“And what is there for me to do on this world?” Garsina said bitterly. “The mindless administration of our Family estate? Entertaining official visitors at the Family hall? Correspondence with bureaucrats, each seeking our Family’s favor?”
“Any one of those things is vitally important to the Oswight interest,” Bremen said reproachfully. “Neither of your brothers ever shirked his duty when dispatched to perform important but mundane chores of state. My daughter, please understand. To be a member of a First Family is to endure certain burdens. Do you think I had any choice when I was your age? I wanted to stay in the DSOD. I could have risen to Admiral Mikton’s rank. Partaken in great battles! But your grandmother had other plans for me. She sent your aunt and uncle to fight. Neither of whom returned home, I might add. Their remains are still out there, drifting in space. Eventually, I came to realize that I had been the lucky one. You should feel lucky too.”
Now Garsina did turn to face her father—her eyes welling up with hot tears.
“You have four dozen different functionaries, all of whom are desperate to assume more important roles within the Family bureaucracy. Loyal men and women who have served you ably, and will continue to serve you ably. Let them manage our holdings. Have them participate in the local System Quorum. They already do most of these jobs anyway. I’m just a figurehead.”
“And if something happens to you?” Bremen said, his own eyes suddenly brimming with hot tears. “How could I bear it? With your mother already gone? The Family Oswight lost one matriarch. It cannot afford to lose another.”
Garsina considered. She’d seen that look on her father’s face before. His officious patina had melted, revealing the pain underneath. Her mother’s death was a blow from which Bremen Oswight had not entirely recovered. He was desperate to not have to endure such loss again.
For much of her own life, Garsina had tended to think of herself as just one of three: she and her twin brothers. Take away one, and there would be two left. All of them worthy heirs. The Family would proudly continue. Except now, with the ghost of Garsilva Oswight invoked, Garsina realized—not for the first time—that she was the only woman left in her house. That made her an especially precious commodity.
But the stars also beckoned. So much potential and possibility. Forever out of reach, if Garsina devoted herself solely to staid matters of Oswight obligation.
Another clipper’s engines roared to life, pushing the craft up into the black sky. Garsina watched it fly, taking her heart aloft with it.
“You can command me not to go,” she said coldly, “and I will obey your order. But know this, Father. I will hate you for it, for the rest of my life. Because others will go to the new system, and others will make the discoveries that I could have made. Who knows what awaits humanity on the other side of the new Waypoint? It might change everything! Including the course of the war! The Oswight legacy is already secure, Father. You have Brekor and Bretan for that. They are married. Soon, they will give you a score of grandchildren.”
“But—” he began to retort, and she talked right over the top of him. She’d seen her late mother do it more than once. Garsina was an apt pupil.
“I have devoted my adult life to understanding the Waymakers, their relics, and what little we know of their species, from fossils and scraps of technology. The Keys. Father, what if what’s discovered on the other side helps us to finally understand the inner workings of the Keys? The Waywork is our home, and our prison too. That’s the whole damned reason we’re at war in the first place. There is nowhere else for humans to go. There has been nowhere else, since the beginning. Our lives are like those tiny spacecraft you build in bottles. We’re closed in. We cannot get out. Not until now, at least. I must be part of this expedition. The university research group wants me to go too. I’m their best, and they know it. ‘Enough lecturing! Time for doing!’ That’s what they said. Please, Father, don’t deny me this. What good is our Family name, if all we do is carefully tend our little fiefdom, while our enemies in Nautilan threaten to destroy Constellar utterly?”
Garsina could tell that her father desperately wanted to invent a reason to say no. But her words had given him pause. She could see him working it all out in his mind. He might have been stubborn, but he was not a fool. He knew what had to be done.
She took three steps and grabbed up one of his large, shaking hands in both of hers.
“Please?” she said, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Destiny doesn’t knock at every door. When it knocks at ours, we must answer.”
His eyes slowly closed, and he brought the skin of her wrist up to his damp face.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said through a clenched throat. “Don’t take any stupid risks.”
“I promise,” she said, feeling tears escape from the corner of each eye.
“May God and your mother forgive me,” he said. “Go. Go! Do us proud, Garsina. Do us all proud.”