Chapter XVIII – The Garden of Forking Paths

The Qamlar must sleep, thought Mu, as she gazed across the dunes, rolling away from the oasis. Nearer where she sat amongst the soft pre-dawn light, the breeze caused the branches of the poplars to sway and the lake surface to ripple gently. It was a serene scene.

This quiet of the earlier hours was something she had only recently discovered. At the Imperial Court there was always activity; moments of quiet were found in the hidden places, they were small things. This, this was big – vast even – just the endless desert, the fading the stars, the sinking moon and the gentle breeze, all of it as if just for her.

But the Qamlar must sleep too.

Because, though it was far gentler than she had experienced on the flight to Karbaliq, she could hear the whispering of the voices on that breeze. During the day, under the blazing sun, they were quiet. But in this cool and quiet hour, they were unmistakable.

She had woken to that accusation again.

Daughter of ruin.

The tent was empty but for her now. Ostara, Mingxia, Nova and Seraphina had left the previous afternoon. She had considered just going and joining the men in their tent, but a moment more thought was sufficient to dismiss that idea. Maybe she’d speak to Miss Khasarqizi today and offer to share a tent with company workers.

Mu liked being alone. Out here at least. She would have relished it back on Aixingo. But in that tent, those voices acquired a far more menacing tone. Maybe for some the walls (cloth, though they may be) and the warm blankets might offer some feeling of comfort, but in the restless dark they seemed to Mu confining.

To Mu, in these hours when the world slumbered, she often felt as if she had two lives. The one she lived among other people, the one the world saw. And this other life, lived alone in the dark. It had been so many years now since she’d regularly enjoyed a good night’s sleep. Now – as it had been for over a decade – each night was a battle, a fraught road as if across a wild desert, in search of the oasis of sleep. But the desert was vast, the oases few, and so she lived this second life in the dark, between sleep.

And yet this failed to truly capture it. Memories of the future, Bright Eyes had once called them and they crowded the oases of sleep. At first, they had been innocuous. She had been so young then, but in many ways that was the end of her childhood, early though it may have been.

For in time, she began remembering far darker futures.

Mu looked up at the tree and considered a moment. The branches were probably too narrow.

“No one’s got the highest plum,” she pointed out.

Gorjin and Ruyin looked at her, saw her finger, and followed it. There, on the highest branch, was a singular fruit, the last on the whole tree. Gorjin was busily devouring the second-to-last.

“I’ll get it!” he declared; his face smeared in plum juice.

“You can’t reach it,” declared Mu, confidently, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Can so!” insisted Gorjin.

“No chance,” said Mu, “You’ll fall. Fall and die.”

“I will not!” replied Gorjin, outraged at the suggestion.

“He will, won’t he Ruru?” said Mu.

“Ah…” said Ruyin, looking from one of them to the other.

“I’ll prove it,” said Gorjin. “I’m the best climber in the whole palace.”

“No way!”

“Yes way. I am. And I’ll give you the plum. Then one day… you have to marry me!”

“Ew!” said Mu, shaking her head. “I don’t want to marry you.”

“Who else are you gonna marry?” asked Gorjin.

Mu thought for a moment. “Maybe I’ll marry Ruru?”

Ruyin blushed.

“You can’t marry her,” said Gorjin. He looked like he was trying to think of an argument to back up his point. “She’s not even in a Banner. She’s Shang.”

“So what?” said Mu. “I’ll marry whoever I want.”

Gorjin shook his head. “Princesses can’t marry just whoever.”

“I will,” said Mu. “I’m going to be different.”

Gorjin suddenly remembered the plum. “Well, I’m going to get the plum. Your Dad will let you marry me, so you may as well agree.”

“Fine,” said Mu, “But you won’t get the plum anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Gorjin gave his boldest grin before sitting down and removing his shoes. Then he proceeded to leap into the tree. He struggled for a moment, then made it to the first major branching.

“My Dad will be angry if I watch you kill yourself,” said Mu. “Ruru, get ready to run and fetch a healer.”

“Um…” said Ruyin.

To Mu’s surprise – and slight consternation – Gorjin was making progress along the branch leading to the plum.

“I think he’s going to make it,” said Ruyin.

Mu shook her head, her two pigtails shaking about. “No way. He’ll fall.”

A thought occurred to Ruyin. “Maybe we should stand underneath him, so we can catch him?”

Mu rolled her eyes. “I guess…”

They moved to stand under Gorjin.

“No need. I won’t fall,” he said, confidently, making his way farther along the branch. He reached out to try and grab the plum, but it was still just out of reach. His legs were wrapped around the branch, one hand clutching it. He wriggled a little closer to the end.

With a pang of concern, Mu noticed the branch was starting to bend down under his weight.

“Gorjin!” she shouted.

“It’s fine!” he said, though his tone blended a hint of worry in with the frustration as he strained to reach the plum.

“It’s going to break,” said Ruyin.

In the next moment Gorjin grabbed the plum. With a tug he pulled it from the branch and held it aloft in a show of triumph.

“Got it!” he shouted, victoriously.

In the next moment after that, the branch snapped, and down it came, along with Gorjin and the plum. Mu tried to catch him, but Ruyin couldn’t help as she ducked out of the way of the branch. Gorjin was too heavy for Mu alone. She didn’t even follow what happened next, but after that she and Gorjin were lying in a heap, the branch with them.

Gorjin groaned.

“I told you,” said Mu, holding back the tears as the pain dawned on her.

“I still got the plum,” said Gorjin and groaned some more as he turned so he could hand it to her.

Without even thinking, she took it from him.

Ruyin stood over them, her eyes wide. “I—I’ll get help,” she said and sprinted away.

“Ouch,” said Gorjin, then began to laugh.

“What’s funny!?” snapped Mu, angrily.

“You have to marry me now.”

“Mukushen!” exclaimed her mother, rushing to her bedside.

“Hello, mother,” she said.

“You have to be more careful,” insisted Ilha. “Ruyin, you must stop her getting caught up in Gorjin’s nonsense.”

“Sorry, my lady,” said Ruyin, trying to shrink into the background.

“Don’t blame Ruru,” said Mu. “It was all Gorjin’s fault.”

Her mother looked from one of the girls to the other. “Well,” she said, “I’m just glad everyone’s alright.”

“I was never in danger,” insisted Mu. “I just saved Gorjin.”

She paused.

“Is he okay?” she said, suddenly worried.

For the first time Ilha smiled. “Yes, he’s fine.”

Mu felt the relief flood into her.

“He’s an idiot,” she said.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“He is though. Ruru agrees, right?”

Ruyin looked like she was trying to shrink even more. “Well, sometimes Master Gorjin is a little…”

“…bit of an idiot,” Mu finished for her. “Now, can I get out of this bed? I told the healers I’m fine. You can see, right? I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Ilha smiled. “You do look alright. I’ve been told you should be able to go… besides, your father has big news for you, and wanted me to bring you to him.”

Mu’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’ll let your father tell you,” said Ilha. “He’s very excited.”

Mu tried, in her mind’s eye, to construct an image of her father being ‘excited’ and failed. He really only ever wore the one grim expression.

“Come, come,” said her mother, impatience replacing the maternal concern of earlier. “Get your shoes on and we’ll go.”

Mu shot an enquiring look Ruyin’s way, wondering if she’d heard anything. Somehow, Ruyin always knew what Mu was thinking. Now she just shrugged.

“You can go, Ruyin,” said Ilha.

“Yes, my lady,” said Ruyin, bowing dutifully. A moment later she was gone.

Prince Aixin Ulušun sat behind an immense, ornate desk in his immense, ornate office. Mu seldom entered her father’s office, or indeed entered the administrative wing of the Inner Palace. She found it a deeply intimidating place, devoid of warmth. When she saw her father here, it felt like he did not belong to her, almost like she was naïve to think she might have any special bond with such a man. He was clearly much too important. Here was an Iron Capped Prince of the First Degree, a Banner Lord of the Empire, a Minister of the Grand Council.

Not her father.

And yet today, as her mother led her into that office, something felt different. She couldn’t quite understand it, but, somehow, she knew that the reason for her summons today was a blending of Ulušun’s official and fatherly duties.

In addition to various secretaries and officers, she noticed Prince Manggūltai standing to one side of her father. He was her father’s chief retainer, but he was also Gorjin’s father.

Oh no! Is Father going to tell me I’m marrying Gorjin, after all!?

Ilha and Mu bowed as they came to a stop before Ulušun’s desk.

“Mukushen,” said her father, looking up from his desk. His expression was as stern as ever. “Are you well? Your mother said you had an accident.”

“I’m fine, Father,” said Mu.

Ulušun looked to his side, to where Manggūltai stood. “Fortunate for you and your son.”

“I certainly feel fortunate, Your Excellency,” said Manggūltai. “I shall discipline Gorjin for his foolishness later.”

“I should think so,” said Ulušun. He looked back to his wife and daughter. “I have great news for our Clan and Banner.”

“I am glad to hear it, Father,” said Mu.

Ulušun placed his elbows on his desk, interweaving his fingers in front of his chin, leaning forward. “I have just returned from the Grand Council. The Emperor himself was in attendance.”

Neither Ilha nor Mu said anything, waiting for Ulušun’s next words.

“His Imperial Majesty has made an announcement to the Grand Council, and a public announcement will be made in the coming days, once arrangements can be made for celebrations. I thought it is appropriate that you hear the news from me before that public announcement,” said Ulušun.

Ulušun paused.

Mu gasped. Before her father spoke again, she already knew what he was about to say.

“It has been agreed that you, Mukushen, will marry the Prince Imperial.”

Mu barely heard her father speak the actual words. Her mind was already reeling. The Prince-Imperial. She would one day be Empress. Empress Mukushen of Aixingo.

What an odd day this was shaping up to be. Of all the ways it could have gone, this was not the one she was expecting.

She vaguely wondered what had become of the plum Gorjin had given her.

That night she dreamt of a lonely, lifeless world orbiting a black hole. Its surface was covered in crumbling factories and ruined machines. That gave way to a dream of a flower growing in a pool of blood. It was only after witnessing a plum orchard on fire that she finally awoke.

She called out for Ruyin and her friend came, looking tired and concerned.

“I’m sorry, Ruru…” said Mu. “I had a nightmare…”

Ruyin knelt by her bed and grabbed her hand. “Are you okay, my lady?”

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” asked Mu.

Ruyin smiled. “If that’s what you want.”

Mu wiggled over and Ruyin climbed into the bed. Mu put her arms around the other girl.

“I don’t want to be Empress.”

“I know, my lady.”

But the Grand Astronomer gave her little hope.

“There are many forking paths in life’s garden, in the great story of our lives, but the stars have ordained that all your paths lead you there,” he had declared, when Mu and Ruyin had intruded into his office, unannounced as oft they did.

He smiled at Mu, his eyes twinkling, with mirth and kindness.

“But remember, dear girl, even when the destination is clear, the path may not be.”

Mu didn’t understand.

“I don’t even care!” declared Gorjin, grumpily.

Mu didn’t let on, but even if she didn’t believe him, she still liked that he said it. She wished less people cared.

Yet across the Empire celebrations were being held for the betrothal of the Prince-Imperial to a Princess of the White Horse Banner. Celebrations for the betrothal of an infant to a teenager; for a wedding that was still a decade away. It was as if tens of millions of worlds were declaring all at once, and with great pomp and ceremony, that they did not care at all for what she wanted.

Maybe marrying Gorjin would not have been so bad.

“I guess you wasted that plum,” said Mu.

From the garden pavilion, Mu gazed out at the ducks paddling on the lotus pond. Gorjin stood with his back to her, twirling a piece of bamboo like it was a sword.

“Whatever, I just wanted to show you I could get it,” he said, then sensing her retort as she opened her mouth, added, “And I did get it.”

Mu didn’t even feel like teasing him. “Yeah,” she said. “You did.”

Silence descended. A butterfly flitted about. Gorjin continued to twirl his ‘sword’.

“What are you going to do, now?” asked Mu. “You have to change your plans.”

Gorjin now faced her. “I never wanted to stay here. I’m going to be a great warrior.”

“Who are you going to fight?”

“Whoever needs fighting,” said Gorjin. He thrust his bamboo stick violently into thin air, skewering an imagined opponent. “They’ll call me the Dragon of Aixingo! I’ll conquer new worlds. I’ll be a legend, like the First Emperor.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The urge not to tease him subsided with this grandiloquent pronouncement. “Doesn’t sound as impressive as marrying me.”

He frowned at her, sword arm still outstretched. “Don’t think you’re so great. Anyone can get married.”

She looked away from him. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah,” she repeated, quieter still.

The sun was rising over the oasis when Mu was disturbed from her reverie.

“Morning, Princess.”

She saw Tavian walking up behind her.

“Morning,” she said, glumly, turning back to the lake.

He sat down beside her.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said.

“Having bad dreams?” he said.

She shook her head. “Been a while since I’ve had good ones.”

She sensed he was trying to think of something to say.

“You don’t need to tell me it’ll be okay or anything like that,” said Mu. “The dreams might be more intense here on Yarkan, but I’ve had ten years of dealing with this. I don’t need help or pity.”

To her surprise, Tavian laughed. He rose to his feet, slapping her on the back as he did so. “In that case, Princess, no time for moping. We’ve got a murder to solve.”

Without another word, he started walking back the way he came.

“Hold up!” she said, dusting the sand of her backside, “I’m coming.”

The doors of the lift slid open and Ostara stepped out into the hall beyond. A smiling man greeted her.

“Madame Ostara?” he asked.

“Mr Yarghunoghul?”

He nodded.

He was a man of roughly the same age as Ostara herself; somewhere around forty, at any rate, though he had a face that appeared almost boyish. Boyish apart from the thick and carefully tended moustache he sported. His dark hair was kept short and neatly combed.

Ostara mused that if she had not known this was Ulduz’s brother, the brilliant blue eyes would have been a giveaway.

He smiles a lot more than his big sister, she mused.

He also dressed differently. While Ulduz had adopted a Shang dress over the traditional attire of Yarkan, this man had gone further, wearing a black business suit and tie. It was quite in keeping with the decidedly non-traditional décor of the building.

The foyer that Ostara had stepped into was well lit, spanning the entire width of the building, windows admitting sunlight from either side. Like Ulduz’s office, this was on the top storey of its respective building – perhaps the only building anywhere in the city taller than the one in which the crew had met Ulduz.

Beyond the dense sprawl of Yengishahr, mountain glaciers gleamed brightly.

At the centre of the foyer was a pedestal, a holographic projection of a building above it. It was a sleek creation, appearing to jut out over water. This part of the projected building appeared to be lined with glass windows on all sides.

Taghay saw Ostara looking at the projection.

“My pride and joy,” said Taghay. “Or at least it will be.”

“The Karbaliq Resort?” asked Ostara.

He nodded. “Ulduz tells me you’re staying at father’s hotel. That was his legacy to this world. Before that, we were so isolated here. There were a few small inns around the city, but nothing that catered to interstellar travellers. Our father was the one who really began tourism here on Yarkan. In a way he opened our world to the Cosmos.”

Ostara smiled. “It’s quite the legacy.”

Taghay nodded, his eyes fixed on the projection. When he spoke, his voice was wistful, his mind far away. “This is the next step.”

“It’s a beautiful design,” said Ostara.

“It is,” said Taghay. His attention snapped back to the present. “But please, come into my office. We’ll have some tea and we can talk more.”

He gestured towards two large doors on the far side of the foyer, then led the way. Ostara followed.

Beyond was a lavishly appointed office, as sleek and minimalist in its design as everything else Ostara had witnessed since she’d entered the main lobby downstairs. Its walls were all glass, offering an even more expansive view of the city, mountains, and glaciers than had the foyer.

“Thank you,” said Ostara, taking a seat in the chair Taghay gestured toward.

Her host sat opposite her.

“Some tea should be in shortly,” he said.

“That sounds lovely,” said Ostara.

There was a moment of silence. Ostara smiled warmly, and waited.

Sure enough, Taghay spoke. “That design,” he said, “Of the resort. My original plan was to get it done by a Yarkanese architect. But do you know what? There was not one suitable candidate on this entire planet. Can you believe that? Almost forty million people, but I couldn’t find the right candidate. In the end it went to an Eladian firm. I love the end-product, of course, but I still do wish that we could have found a local to do it.”

“Well, it is certainly a delightful design, nonetheless,” said Ostara.

“It is, it is. But next time – next time I want to have the option of using a local firm,” said Taghay. “But so much needs to change before that happens. This world is trapped in the past. Longing for the past. A past that will never return. But I want to see Yarkan step forward into a bright future. I want it to be a jewel of the Empire.”

“It’s a bold vision.”

Taghay gave a small laugh. “It’s not a vision I’ve managed to convince everyone of.”

“But still many people, from what I hear.”

“Sure, absolutely. But I guess you’re here to talk to me about one of the people I haven’t managed to convince.”

Ostara said nothing.

“Ulduz filled me in. Toghrul’s case is troubling. I… it was always my wish that he could have been at my side. When we were young, we would talk about a brighter future for this world of ours… but somewhere along the way… well, he was seduced by the lure of the past. He became fixated on it. It’s never coming back... I just wish I could have convinced him of that. Before this. Before this tragedy.”

“You are convinced Toghrul is the one responsible, then?” asked Ostara.

A sad expression spread across Taghay’s face. One that Ostara was not wholly convinced by. “I am. That’s where the evidence points. I didn’t want to believe it… but, well, I guess he got carried away. He’s always been passionate, and I think that passion has just been channelled to a very toxic place.”

He paused as if to allow for Ostara to speak, but again she waited. He resumed speaking.

“Look, I know Ulduz doesn’t believe it… or at least, she doesn’t want to believe it. I can get why. It’s not a nice thing to believe about your own family,” he said. He glanced out the window, lingering a moment, then back to Ostara. “And I think she needs to do this. Get someone to investigate it all so that she can satisfy herself. That’s fine. I don’t want a sentence to be passed on Toghrul if Ulduz still has her doubts. So, I won’t get in the way of your investigation, Madame Ostara.”

“Everyone at Karbaliq has been most helpful so far,” lied Ostara. “Thank you for ensuring such cooperation. It makes our job easier.”

“Of course,” said Taghay, spreading his hands. “Like I said. I’m willing to let Ulduz do as she needs to do, so as to come to terms with the truth.”

“You became convinced more quickly,” said Ostara, letting the statement linger without elaboration.

Taghay nodded slowly. “I like to think of myself as a rational man. Even if the truth is unpleasant, I believe in the conclusion supported by the facts.”

“There are some gaps in the evidence, though,” said Ostara. “No footage of the actual crime… it happened in the protected zone, didn’t it?”

Taghay’s smile flickered for a moment. “It’s simply not possible to have the entirety of the protected zone covered by security cameras.”

“Of course,” said Ostara. “I’ve been there… even if it’s only a small part of Karbaliq, it’s still quite expansive.”

“It is a very large site and very remote. Having been there and back in recent days, I’m sure you can appreciate that – at least with Yarkan in its current state of development – this project we are attempting is no small thing. Our resources are certainly not infinite. Very far from it. Even with the Planetary Government’s assistance.”

“I can appreciate the logistical complications you must be facing,” said Ostara. “I imagine the cooperation of the local tribes must be crucial.”

“Oh, indeed,” said Taghay. “Without the Qamlar, we would have no way of achieving this project. Or at least not until we can source and set up more ARCs.”

At that point the door opened and a young man entered carrying a tray. He set down a tea set from the tray, bowed, then left the room. Taghay watched him wordlessly the whole time. Ostara thanked him as he left.

Taghay poured her a cup of tea and passed it across to her. “Where was I? Oh yes, the ARCs. Actually, Ulduz tells me you came here from Shangxia? Coincidentally, our company is cooperating with a research team based at Shangxia Planetary Technical University to develop smaller scale ARCs for the project.”

“Yes, we came from Shangxia.”

“There support has been essential to getting the project off the ground. We’ve also been fortunate in securing the support of another research organisation, the TRS – ah, that’s Theophany Research Society – and they have very deep pockets.”

“Human ingenuity is incredible,” said Ostara. “To harness the Starflow with technology… ah, but if you’ll humour me, could we return to the project at hand. I’m interested to know how you secured the support of the local tribes?”

“Oh, well, it required plentiful negotiations, let me tell you,” said Taghay. “But we got there in the end.”

“But not with all of them?”

Taghay sighed. “No, regrettably Toghrul turned a few – only a few, mind – against us. But the vast majority have cooperated, and are excited as I am for the opportunity this represents. The development will be a major economic boon for the desert communities. Truly – nothing in living memory compares. And we have a company plan to invest in skills and training for the local people, so that people from the tribes can work at the resort.”

He clasped his hands together. “This is what Toghrul didn’t understand. The way to preserve history isn’t to lock it away, freeze it in stasis. It needs to be brought to new generations, in new ways. That’s what we’ll achieve with this project. The people of Karbaliq and the wider Kavuktan region will be the ones bringing their history – our history, as a planet – to tourists.”

“Why do you think that is?” asked Ostara. “Why do you think Toghrul was so very opposed?”

Taghay shook his head, giving another sigh. “I wish I knew. Maybe if I’d seen the signs of him going down this path of radicalisation… I don’t know. Maybe myself… or Ulduz… could have diverted him.”

Ostara raised her cup of tea to her mouth. It had a floral fragrance she didn’t recognise. Unusual. She sipped it. It was a strange flavour, but quite pleasurable. “You don’t have any doubts that he is the one who did it? Even if you don’t really know why?”

Taghay spread his hands. “The authorities have investigated. It isn’t really just about what I think anymore.”

“That doesn’t seem to have convinced your sister,” said Ostara.

“No,” Taghay conceded, “But what big sister would wish to believe it? Of her little brother?”

“But a big brother would? A big brother would believe it?”

“You probably think me so cold, don’t you, Madame Ostara?”

Ostara deflected with a smile. “Of course not. I’m just seeking to understand. If I understand, well, then I can help your sister understand.”

Taghay nodded. “It’s as I said. I’m just following the evidence. And I have done my bit for Toghrul. I have made personal representations on his behalf to ensure he is spared the death penalty. I’ve leveraged my business and personal relationships on his behalf.”

“The evidence,” mused Ostara, “Is somewhat… limited. Aside from the lack of footage, there’s no murder weapon…”

“There’s no alibi,” interrupted Taghay, a note of frustration entering into his voice, “No other suspects.”

“You pointed out that not all the desert tribes have come on board… could someone from one of the tribes have committed the murder?”

“Our security patrols the perimeter very regularly,” said Taghay.

“But you did say the site was large and difficult to keep under surveillance, didn’t you? Surely, someone – particularly a local with good knowledge of the site – could have slipped in without being detected—”

“The authorities have ruled it out. There is no evidence of any intruders at the time in question,” snapped Taghay.

Ostara gazed at him calmly as she took another sip of her tea. “I see,” she said, softly.

Taghay fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. He looked outside. Then he rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, Madame Ostara, but I have some other business to attend to, if you’ll please excuse me. Would you like me to show you the way out?”

“I should be able to find my way,” said Ostara.

Ostara was sitting in her room at the Yarghun Grand Hotel, next to a great pile of rugs.

“Out of curiosity, was the room bugged?” she asked.

“As you predicted, it was. But they won’t be hearing anything now,” came Nova’s voice. “Although… they’ll know we know.”

Ostara laughed. “But they can hardly complain about us neutralising the bugs without admitting to the bugs being here in the first place. We know they’re monitoring us; they know we know that. Everyone knows.”

“Guess so,” said Nova.

“Did Taghay have anything to say?” came Kal’s voice.

“Nothing particularly interesting. But then, I’m more interested in what he didn’t say. Which was a lot.”

“Figured,” said Kal.

“He’s got all his key lines and themes worked out, but he doesn’t hold up long to questioning,” said Ostara. “He shut things down pretty quickly once I finally started pressing him.”

“The cover up theory is gaining ground,” said Kal.

“I’m certainly coming around to the idea,” said Ostara. “Found anything out yet, Nova?”

“Nothing yet. I’m still finding my way in. But sooner or later some lonely and horny company worker is going to open one of my messages. I guarantee it.”

Ostara chuckled. “No doubt.”

“Nothing yet here,” said Kal. “Mu and Tavian are still trying to find an in with the tribes.”

“How’s that going?” asked Ostara.

“Not well, so far. Mu’s getting frustrated.”

“Hrm… Taghay was certainly very hostile to the idea that someone from one of the tribes could have snuck in and committed the murder,” said Ostara. “But they’re also highly unlikely to talk if one of their own is guilty.”

“That’s exactly what we’ve been finding so far,” said Kal. “They all know the company is watching them, so they just regurgitate the company line, or plead ignorance. We can’t talk to anyone off site, because we’d need to get a company-sanctioned shaman, or whatever they’re called, to come with us if we leave the protected zone.”

Ostara considered a moment. “Taghay did say he was willing to be cooperative with the investigation – to ensure his sister was on board with what he called the ‘facts’.”

“Sure, he said that…” said Kal.

“No harm in trying. If we get his permission for you to go offsite with a Qam, you’ll have no problems.”

“Except whoever it is, it’ll be someone with ties to the company. If the tribes are divided, those on Toghrul’s side won’t cooperate,” said Kal.

“I’m willing to bet the lines aren’t as clear as being on one side or another of this dispute,” said Ostara. “I’ll put in a query with Taghay’s office and at very least, he’ll have to come up with a good reason to deny us.”

“Worth a shot, I guess,” said Kal.

“And you and the others there at Karbaliq can keep working on things on the ground,” said Ostara.

“We’re all over it,” said Kal, gruffly.

“Wonderful,” said Ostara.

“That music,” said a voice from behind Tavian. He turned and saw a young Yarkanese worker standing a short distance from where he had been sitting and playing.

“Feel free to sit and listen,” said Tavian.

“Where did you learn that song… you’re not from Yarkan,” said the man.

“I heard it around here,” said Tavian.

“That’s a very old song,” said the man, “I’ve only ever heard a few of the local Qamlar play it. Who—”

Before he could finish his question, Tavian interrupted him. “We’ve spoken before, haven’t we?”

Somewhat reluctantly the man nodded.

“You asked about Mr Su’s murder.”

Tavian nodded. “Just after we first arrived.”

“You’ve only been here a few days… no one in Yengishahr knows that song…” the man mused.

A thought occurred to Tavian.

Should I? Not like anything else has worked.

“You asked who taught me this song,” he said.

The man nodded.

“What if I told you… it was someone… dead,” said Tavian.

The man’s eyes widened. “The Učarmaz taught you?”

“Sure,” said Tavian, “If that’s what you call ghosts.”

Without another word, the man sat down next to Tavian, crossing his legs. Tavian could see from his expression that gears were turning in his head.

“It is a song written after the Fall of Karbaliq,” said the man. “A funeral song, for all the dead.”

“I didn’t realise,” said Tavian.

“But no outsider is ever taught that song…”

Tavian decided to let him reason this out. It didn’t sound like he’d committed any grave cultural offense, judging by the man’s tone.

“If the Učarmaz taught you this song… it must mean something,” said the man.

This sounds promising.

“Perhaps Atilay Qam will know.”

Tavian grinned. “Perhaps I should meet him?”

The young man nodded, “It must mean something. Will you come with me to meet him?”

“Of course,” said Tavian. “’Twould be my pleasure. Would… could my friend come with us?”

The man looked uncertain, but nodded.

“Great,” said Tavian. He reached out his hand. The young man looked at it. “I’m Tavian.”

Tentatively the man reached out and took Tavian’s offered hand. “My name is Chinor.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Chinor,” said Tavian.

Nova was just about ready to collapse by the time she stepped off the treadmill. Her legs felt distinctly like jelly.

Panting, she walked over and grabbed her towel, wiping away some of the sweat before throwing it over her shoulder. Pausing a moment and swaying on unsteady legs, she then set off back towards her room, the lights of the gym shutting off behind her.

That felt like a good session, she mused to herself. Although maybe I should get Mu to show me her routine when she gets back to the ship.

The corridors of the Amrita had been particularly quiet. Apart from when she’d first got back to the ship, she hadn’t seen any sign of the Captain. Meanwhile Seraphina had retreated to her room as usual. Mingxia had opted to stay on the surface with Ostara. For the most part, the voyage to Yarkan from Shangxia had felt almost festive, so the quiet now had a borderline eerie feel, giving the familiar corridors an almost liminal vibe.

Not that it was quiet right now for Nova. She tapped her headphones to turn up the volume further, as she headed to her room. At least no one around meant no one to complain about her singing out loud.

Not that such complaints ever stopped her usually.

As she rounded a corner to the corridor off which her room opened, the lights flickered. She paused and looked around. The lights shouldn’t flicker. The lights didn’t normally flicker. In fact, the lights flickering was a direct insult to Nova, who worked very hard to ensure that everything on the Amrita functioned perfectly. This was no small feat, given so much about the ship was frankly both alien and ancient, but she had taught herself its ways, its moods, its every idiosyncrasy. And she prided herself on one thing in particular.

Nothing. Ever. Went. Wrong.

But something just did.

She looked around, frowning as she took in the scene. Everything looked normal. She paused the song she was listening to, lowering the headphones. Nothing to hear. It was quiet, too… no, actually, probably just about the appropriate amount of quiet.

“Hrm.”

She pulled her goggles down over her eyes, and surveyed her surroundings once more. Even now, everything looked normal. No massive spikes in radiation, or anything of that nature that might cause the sort of fluctuation that would trigger the lights to flicker.

Maybe I imagined it.

Maybe I’m on the verge of blacking out after all that exercise!

She walked the rest of the way to her room with the goggles on, checking out everything along the way and still noticing nothing. The lights did not flicker again. As she walked though, she felt a momentary chill, like the temperature instantly dropped fifteen degrees or so. Then it passed.

Were the climate systems playing up now?

Maybe it’s nothing.

She dismissed that thought.

No! I must know. There can be no secrets between Amrita and I. If there’s the slightest chance she is sick, I must heal her.

Everything also looked normal in her room as she entered.

She slid the goggles back up as the lights came on. Charlie leapt from his charging pad and trotted over to greet her.

Woof! he declared.

“Yeah, boy, I’m home,” she said and he danced happily around her feet. “You see anything weird? Your power do anything odd?”

Woof! declared Charlie.

“Fair enough,” said Nova, taking off her shoes, then peeling off her socks. She headed to the bathroom where she cast the socks into the laundry chute.

In the kitchenette she poured herself a glass of water. She wasn’t so sure about this, but both Mu and Harry had insisted that water would work better than energy drinks after a workout, so she figured she’d give them the benefit of the doubt.

It’s so… non-sugary. What even is this flavour?

Given the lights hadn’t flickered again in a little while, she figured the situation was unlikely to be catastrophic. The temp also seemed stable. A shower and some food were probably in order first, then she’d work out what was troubling her poor girl Amrita.

Water successfully downed, she headed for the bathroom once more, hurling her gym clothes down the laundry chute. She hit the button in the shower for her preset temperature and pressure preferences and put her headphones back on, cranking the volume.

“Never gonna give you up!” she bellowed out as the water poured over her, the steam rising.

At some point, the combination of singing and flowing water disastrously combined, and she found herself coughing and spluttering.

Knew this water stuff was no good, she mused.

Her eyes open now, she found herself gazing out the window. Yarkan loomed large below, its drab colour-palette only broken up by the gleaming polar icecaps. She wondered how everyone else was going down there. She figured she’d check in with everyone tomorrow. Hopefully by then her own efforts would have borne fruit.

If nothing else she had big ideas for Ulduz’s ten million taels. She was already mentally preparing the case she’d put to the Captain and Ostara. The Amrita would be so happy with some new parts. Perhaps if that included an upgraded weapons fit-out she could bring Kal in as an ally.

Eh, he’ll back me up anyway. Good ol’ Kal.

Oooh! Maybe if there is a fault with the Amrita that will bolster my case for upgrades.

No! Don’t think that way. She might be hurting. Bad thoughts! Get out!

Nova continued staring out the window. She remembered when Mu had first come on board, she’d asked Nova about the presence of these windows directly adjacent the showers.

“What, you worried about space pervs? There’s no one looking, Mu,” Nova had reassured her.

“But ships passing by…”

“Do you know how big space is? It’s like, really big. No one’s passing by that close.”

As she was remembering this, the music playing out of her headphones changed. Now it was playing some sort of mournful song on an old-fashioned string instrument of some kind. Nova didn’t really know instruments. Or music in general, beyond whether or not she liked it. This, however, was definitely not her thing.

And I definitely didn’t put this in my playlist.

Her eyes scanned the bathroom suspiciously, but the glass had now mostly fogged up and there was nothing to see. There was singing now, but the voices sounded sad.

Am I picking up a broadcast from the surface? It does sound kinda like something Yarkan people would listen to.

No. It’s not possible.

But it’s happening…

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Everything outside still looked normal. But something was definitely up.

She quickly dried herself off, then wrapped the towel around her and headed out. Her bedroom also looked normal. Charlie happily trotted over to her, carrying one of his toys.

“Not now, boy,” said Nova, distractedly.

She turned off the music.

She put in a call to Apollo. He answered promptly.

“Hi, Cap,” she said, pulling her goggles down again and suspiciously scanning her surrounds for any sign of something suspicious. “I, um… you noticed anything odd?”

“Odd?” asked Apollo.

“Yeah. Anything really. Just stuff that doesn’t normally happen… devices not behaving, that sorta thing.”

“Now you mention it, the can-opener you made for me did jam earlier. I had to use the other robot you made to get my sprats open,” said Apollo.

“Oh, that’s no good. Honestly, I dunno how you do it, Cap,” said Nova.

“What’s that?”

“Not having thumbs. Must be such a pain.”

“I’m rather used to it. But back to your question, I haven’t noticed anything else. Has something of concern occurred?”

“It’s probably nothing,” murmured Nova. “Just some devices behaving strangely,” though even as she said it, she had the sense of something moving just outside her vision. She whirled around, but saw nothing. “Um, Cap, I’ll go. I’ll come over a bit later and check on the can opener. Can’t have you locked out of your sprats.”

“I’d appreciate that, Nova,” said Apollo. “Could it be a Starflow anomaly affecting onboard systems? Perhaps Seraphina could assist you with detection?”

“Hrm, maybe. Alright, bye Cap.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

She hung up the call. Starflow… maybe that was it. It was the one thing she still struggled to factor in. Some of the Amrita’s more arcane systems definitely interacted with the Starflow, but these were the few aspects of her operations that Nova still didn’t properly understand. Maybe she should return to the surface and speak to someone about the ARCs in Yengishahr. Might provide some insight into Starflow-based tech.

In the meantime, the Captain was right. She should speak to Seraphina. Whatever bugbear had gotten into the system, she – Nova Reid, tech genius – was not going to let it defeat her. Software, hardware, gamma ray burst, or Starflow anomaly: she’d find that damned bugbear.

But first: to put on some clothes and eat some dinner.

Then it happened.

The lights didn’t just flicker. They flashed rapidly on and off, then everything went dark. Charlie whimpered.

For a moment the only light in her room came from the stars outside and that reflected off the surface of Yarkan. A flickering light came on behind her. It looked like the light of a fire on the walls of a cave, casting dancing shadows.

Slowly, and with a sense of unease, Nova turned.

There, standing in her room was a silk-shrouded figure holding a single candle in front of it with both hands, perfectly still.

Nova screamed.