Binary.

A Science Fiction Novel.

by Jay Caselberg.

One.

Leannis Men Darnak shifted uneasily on his padder. The beast snorted, sensing the repositioning of the Princ.i.p.al's weight and took a step forward. He pulled back gently on the reins, stilling the animal and reached down, almost automatically, to check the spear haft slotted into its leather case at his right. Behind him, Sandon Yl Aris sat astride his own padder. The man would take no part in the hunt, but Men Darnak liked him around. He never knew when his aide and advisor might pop up with something useful. Another beast snorted and stamped. Men Darnak gave a quick glance toward the offending animal, eyes narrowed, then turned back to scanning the gra.s.sland below.

The suns were beating down upon the plain, the weather warm, and the Clear Season gra.s.ses riffled in a gentle breeze. There was no movement apart from the soft waves prompted by the stirring of the air. Somewhere down there lay their quarry, hidden. The chuckah, a fleet-footed quadruped, bristle coated, liked to root around in the gra.s.slands, digging through the dry earth in search of insects and other tasty morsels with its nasty curved tusks, tusks that could rip the belly out of a padder or man just as easily. He reached for his spear again, tracing the shaft softly with the tips of his fingers. On foot, once they'd chased the beast down, nothing stood between the man and those tusks than the tempered hardwood length of his spear. There lay the challenge.

Men Darnak had brought the boys along for this hunt. It would do them good to see the test, to learn the ways of the chuckah; their time would come soon enough. Roge and Tarlain, though Tarlain was barely old enough to ride his animal, would learn from this. He glanced back to his left, checking on the boys. Roge, as usual, was trying to emulate his father's seat upon the padder, his back straight, his gaze fixed upon the gra.s.sland below. Tarlain fiddled with his reins and fidgeted. He made to say something to Roge, but Roge stilled him with a grimace, and the boy settled back. Back at home, on the estate, their sister waited. There was no place for a girl on the hunt, but sometimes Men Darnak wished that their characters had been reversed. If Karin had been here, there would have been no fidgeting or complaining. He nodded to himself grimacing as he pushed the unwelcome thought away, and turned back to watch for signs of movement.

The ground in front of them rose to a low hill, and beyond that, forest, tall and st.u.r.dy ajura trees s.p.a.ced across the rise. If a chuckah broke, it would race for the trees and Men Darnak was already plotting a path in his mind's eye. It was more dangerous chasing through the trees, the spiny branches whipping out in front of a racing padder, hard and sharp enough to impale a man if he didn't take care.

There, down below, a hint of something stirring in the gra.s.ses. Back behind them, came the noise of a vehicle. Groundcar or groundbike, he didn't care. It was something to disturb the stillness of the moment and he pressed his teeth together tightly, losing his concentration for a moment. There! A flash of movement. A brindled back cutting through the gra.s.ses. With a cry, Men Darnak spurred his padder into action, one hand looped in the reins, the other holding his spear aloft. The padders weren't the fastest of animals, and the chuckah was fleet of foot. He had to move if he was going to cut it off before it reached the tree line.

Men Darnak kept his eyes on the beast, not even glancing back to check the boys were okay. He could hear their own animals pounding down the slope behind him. He urged his padder faster, whipping through the gra.s.ses, the smell of freshly crushed vegetation and damp earth around him, marking the track of the racing chuckah. The beast knew they were after it now. For an instant, he lost sight of the low back, but then, a flash of movement. The chuckah was breaking for the right, heading straight for the trees. He leaned forward, seeking more speed where there was none. And then, the chuckah was out. It tore up the slope and darted between two ma.s.sive shiny trunks and was lost from view. Men Darnak growled, pulled at his reins and swung his padder toward the tree line, kicking its flanks to urge it faster.

Leaning low on the animal's back, Men Darnak followed into the trees, swerving and leaning out of the way of threatening spines. There, up ahead. The sound of something moving through the dim light off to the left. He slowed his wild charge. Pulling the beast back to a gentle walk. Behind him, came the sound of other animals, the boys, a couple of the men. There was nothing for it now. They would have to stalk the chuckah. Dotted through the damp gloom lay clearings, broad gra.s.sed s.p.a.ces. Men Darnak only hoped he would have the fortune to come across the beast in such a s.p.a.ce. By the Twins, he was not going to return empty handed. He slowed his animal even more, then drew it to complete halt, listening. A slight breeze stirred through the trees, bringing with it the scent of old earth and the tang of ajura. Flexing his fingers around the haft of his spear, he waited.

A shout off to the left, somewhere through the trees, then a cry. It was one of the boys. The shiny trunks reflected sound, distorted it deep in the forest, and it was hard to tell which of his sons had cried out. His teeth bared, he kicked his padder, and wheeled it toward where he thought the sound had come from.

"Back!" yelled someone. It was clear enough--Sandon's voice.

He urged his animal forward, faster, heedless of the sharp spines threatening to knock him from the animal's back.

"No, Roge, stay where you are!" Sandon's voice again.

The light grew as he reached the source of the sound, and then he was out, into a clearing to be confronted with...

Tarlain, his youngest, sat pressed back against a tree trunk, his knees drawn up in front of him, a look of wild panic on his face. In front of him stood Sandon Yl Aris, his hands stretched wide. Yl Aris had no weapon. He was merely along as advisor and aide, not expected to take any part in the hunt. Off to one side stood Roge, watching on, without even a spear in his hands. His weapon sat sheathed, still up on his animal and across the other side from him. And in the center stood the chuckah, its flat, bony head swiveling from one to the other. At Men Darnak's emergence, it turned, pawing at the ground, seemingly confused by the array of targets.

Men Darnak was off his padder's back in an instant, his spear held high. The chuckah turned its dark gaze on him for a moment, then thinking better of it, swiveled its attention back to the immobile Roge.

"No, Princ.i.p.al, stay back!" said Sandon.

The chuckah took a step toward Roge, stopped, clawed at the ground. Men Darnak knew if he moved too quickly, the beast would charge, and Roge was exposed, naked, completely unprotected. He hefted his spear, thoughts racing. It was too far from where he was. Besides, the animal's bony hide left few places for and accurate strike.

The chuckah took another step.

"Here!" yelled Sandon. "Here!" He waved his arms.

The beast turned.

"Arghhhh!" shouted Sandon through bared teeth.

And the chuckah charged.

Sandon Yl Aris kept his arms wide, shielding the boy behind him looking on in terror. The chuckah pounded across the intervening s.p.a.ce and launched itself straight at the man. Knocking him from his feet, clawing at him and whipping its tusks back and forth. Tarlain scrambled around the tree, away, out of sight. Yl Aris held the animal as a task tore into his shoulder and he cried out.

Men Darnak needed no further prompt. He charged across the clearing as Sandon wrestled on the ground. Lifting his spear high, he saw the spot, plunged it down and deep, slipping between the armored plates. The beast screamed, high, piercing and Men Darnak twisted. It screamed again and fell beck off the man beneath it, raking one clawed paw across Yl Aris's chest. Men Darnak pushed his full weight against the spear, driving it down and deeper, pushing the chuckah, writhing back onto the ground. It groaned, deep, shuddered, twitched once, and was still.

Men Darnak stood slowly, glancing over at Roge. The boy hadn't even moved. He just stood there, a blank expression on his face.

Quickly, he turned to Yl Aris who lay on the ground, an arm pressed against his wounded chest, a grimace of pain on his face.

"Thank you, Yl Aris," said the Princ.i.p.al. He stooped, looking at the man who had just saved his boys. The shoulder wound was deep and nasty. "Thank you," he said again.

"There was nothing else to do," said Yl Aris through gritted teeth.

Men Darnak shot a glance at his eldest son as he helped Yl Aris to his feet.

"Oh, there was much else that could have been done," he said quietly. "Let us get those injuries seen to."

Two.

Guildmaster Aron Ka Vail turned from the window, tearing his gaze from the cityscape below with a deep sigh. The shadowed orange light spilled from behind him setting the polished tiles of his audience hall awash with b.l.o.o.d.y reflections. The Minor Twin was now in ascendancy. Dark spots crawled across its surface, marring the even yellow-orange glow. The Major Twin had started slipping slowly from view a mere four days past, its welcome lighter-hued visage fading with each pa.s.sing day. The time of storms would be upon them soon.

"Communications will start to get patchy soon," said Sandon Yl Aris, starting the conversation with something he thought might not be too contentious.

"So they will," said Guildmaster Vail, glancing back out the window. "I'm not too fond of returning to the old ways, nor of riding again for that matter. I'm getting too old to feel comfortable on the back of an animal. Give me a groundcar above a saddle any day, eh? The Return is too much like barbarism to me, don't you think, Yl Aris? I often wonder what the First Families would have thought, seeing us riding around like b.l.o.o.d.y primitives. There are limits to what I'm prepared to give up, choice or not. Before you know it, we'll be living like the Kallathik or, dread the thought, the d.a.m.ned Atavists."

"Yes," said Sandon. "Hardly the vision I think the First Families would have had for their future generations. For that matter, it's hardly a vision I particularly want for myself." His voice lacked any trace of humor.

Guildmaster Ka Vail gave a wry chuckle and crossed to the wide table where the Guild meetings were customarily held. The table's dark mottled ajura wood was polished to a brilliant sheen. Sixteen high-backed chairs sat around it. A small stone sculpture rested at the table's center. The work was a representation of Aldaban's twin suns, the Major and Minor Twins. Sandon looked it over, recognizing it as the work of one Kalon Ky Maron, worth a small fortune on its own. Impressive trappings indeed. Guildmaster Vail pulled out his chair at the table's head and adjusted his clothing around him as he sat.

"Come, sit. Join me won't you, Yl Aris? Tell me what you think Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak is up to. That has to be a more fitting matter for discussion, something we have a little control over at least. I'll make no secret that I'm concerned, and the other Guilds must have their concerns as well. You're probably close enough to have some idea of what's really going on in his head. This talk of pa.s.sing on the reins to his children is unsettling, and as far as I'm concerned, well before its time. Now, what can you tell me?"

Sandon crossed and pulled out a chair. Even the chairs were finely wrought antiques. The whole place was designed for awe and intimidation; a fact not lost on him. He ran his palm over the arm, where the wood was smooth and shiny from years of use, adding the slightest trace of sweat from his own hand to the acc.u.mulation of others gathered there from generations past. He looked across the table, wondering at the decades of power this man, Aron Ka Vail, had held within his grasp. The Guild of Primary Production was one of the strongest on Aldaban.

"I don't think it's unusual for him to be thinking of succession now," said Sandon, "He's always been a planner, you know that, but you know just as well that he always keeps his thoughts pretty much to himself. It's hard to know sometimes which way he'll turn. But what about you, Guildmaster Vail? Surely you've thought about succession yourself. A Guild such as Primary Production..."

Sandon didn't mind asking the question. Ka Vail was getting old and it didn't hurt to know which way the cards might fall when the time came. Sandon survived on the knowledge of what went on in the complex guild structure, and Princ.i.p.al Leannis Men Darnak relied on that knowledge to help shape the way things went. Though Sandon's position was never spelled out--he was just another functionary in the Princ.i.p.ate--the other Guildmasters knew Sandon's position, understood the dynamics of the bargain and it served them all.

Ka Vail looked down at the hands clasped before him and nodded slowly. Then he fixed Sandon with hard gray eyes.

"Yes, of course I've considered it. Naturally, the position should fall to my eldest son, Markis. For a start, he was born when the Major Twin was in ascendance. They say he's the lucky one, but sadly, he has none of the cunning of the younger, Jarid." He paused, sighed, then looked up again. "You know about my youngest, Jarid. People would say I was mad even considering him. Mad I might be, and his birth may have been poorly aspected, but he's still my son. To be honest, I don't hold much with that superst.i.tious nonsense anyway." He seemed to drift in thought for a moment, then regained his composure. "I have to admit to being a bit of a traditionalist, Yl Aris. The position of Guildmaster has to fall to Markis. Ever since the First Families settled here, that has been the way, and so it shall continue. I plan no departure from tradition. Between you and me, I only hope his younger brother will understand."

Ka Vail unclasped and clasped his hands again. After a moment, he looked up, clearly not letting Sandon divert him. "Tell me, Sandon, what is Men Darnak going to do? What do you think he's going to do? The whole structure of the Guilds is going to be affected by what he decides."

"I wish I could tell you. There are rumors, of course, but how he apportions it is anyone's guess." Sandon spread his hands wide. "He hasn't told me anything. If he had, of course you'd be one of the first to know, Guildmaster."

Ka Vail shook his head and sucked air between his teeth. "That we don't need. With Storm Season just about upon us, there's enough potential for chaos. Do we have to put up with uncertainty as well? It's hard enough keeping a tight rein on the Kallathik without trying to train a new Princ.i.p.al, let alone three." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowered conspiratorially. "Do you think he plans to influence things from the background; keep a guiding hand on what they do until the real order is established? At least until the Major Twin's in ascendancy?"

Sandon shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Guildmaster. It would be the logical way for him to handle it. I don't see him giving that up easily. But I lay absolutely no claim to be able to predict the way the future will fall. Storm Season is no short time, and anything could happen. Men Darnak is not a young man."

Nor was the man Sandon was talking to, he thought. He wondered if after the change, Guildmaster Ka Vail would still be around.

The old man settled back into his chair, pursed his lips and looked off into the distance. He spoke in a quiet voice, seemingly more to himself than to Sandon. "We've supported him for years. It has served all of us well. What is he thinking? We need a steady hand in the Princ.i.p.ate. Particularly now."

A discreet cough from the doorway at the far end of the chamber interrupted them. The Guildmaster looked up with a frown that immediately softened. "Ah, Jarid, come in. Join us. We were just discussing the likely outcomes of the succession question." Then turning to Sandon: "I don't think you've formally met my son, have you, Yl Aris?" He waved the boy over. "Jarid Ka Vail, my younger son...this is Sandon Yl Aris. He works for Leannis Men Darnak within the Princ.i.p.ate."

The young man's shoes clicked across the polished floor as he crossed to take up position between them, his hand resting on the back of his father's chair. He nodded at Sandon, a gesture Sandon politely returned.

He had only ever seen the younger Ka Vail boy from a distance. Up close, Jarid Ka Vail had much of his father's looks: the hooded gray eyes, the high cheekbones, and the thin lips. His mouth betrayed a slight arrogance. Sandon graced him with a polite smile.

"So, what news? How are the preparations going?" asked Ka Vail, looking back up at his son.

"We've started to pull in the groundcars from the farms and the communications networks are ready to be shut down. Preparations for line of sight are in progress. Data backup is already under way, but Markis is handling most of that. I've been helping out where I can, but I think we might be in for a difficult time. The Kallathik have been gathering again."

The Guildmaster pa.s.sed a hand across his brow. "Why does it never change? Every Storm Season it's the same d.a.m.ned thing. What is it this time?"

"There have been mutterings about conditions in the mines, but most of that's third-hand. You know how hard it is to get any sense out of the creatures. I've sent observers in, but that's no guarantee. With any luck we'll have come up with some hard information before we start getting the first coms blackouts."

"And Markis is aware of this?"

The young man hesitated before answering, and Sandon read volumes into the pause. "Yes, he's aware of this." The response was flat.

Ka Vail continued, oblivious. "Good. He needs to be able to keep a strong grip on the Kallathik situation if we're to get through this unscathed."

The Guildmaster seemed not to notice the slight narrowing of his son's eyes. "Send him a message, will you? Make it clear to him that I'm expecting quick resolution of this Kallathik problem. Impress upon him that he has to do this with the minimum of fuss, mind. I don't want it turning into a major incident."

Jarid pursed his lips, saying nothing. He gave Sandon a brief nod and stalked from the chamber.

"Well, Yl Aris, you see what we have to put up with in Primary Production? You're somewhat shielded in the Princ.i.p.ate. Every time the Minor Twin comes into ascendancy, we're faced with these sorts of problems. I don't know whether it's their religion, or what it is that stirs them up, but every cycle the Kallathik give us trouble. The more restless they are, the harder time we seem to have of it. If we didn't rely on them so much, I'd say be done with them, employ human workers on the farms and in the mines. And on that note, it wouldn't hurt you putting a word in with Men Darnak for us."

Ka Vail was right about one thing; Sandon was somewhat shielded in the Princ.i.p.ate. As long as Guild functions went ahead smoothly, there was no need to get involved in the finer details of what they did. He doubted even Men Darnak would be aware of this Kallathik thing. Generally, it was Sandon's job to flag such issues.

A Kallathik totem stood in one corner of the room: long segmented body, two primary and two vestigial arms and a squarish head. Sandon eyed it speculatively. It made sense for it to be there, as most of their dealings were with Primary Production. He knew far too little about these creatures; Primary Production shielded most of the population in their dealings with the Kallathik. They had existed side by side with the human population for the five centuries since the ill-fated colony ships had landed. Rarely seen in the cities, they maintained tribal settlements in the more remote of Aldaban's lands. Their plate-like skin made them ideal workers for the farms and mines.

"You're right. I wasn't aware they were such a problem," said Sandon, finally returning his attention to Ka Vail.

"We try and keep these things within the Guild," said the Guildmaster. "Over the last few cycles, matters have become more strained. The Princ.i.p.al, of course, has been aware of it, but I suppose he didn't feel it necessary to spread the information beyond the Guild."

Was he indeed? Sandon made a note to question Men Darnak about it later. Whatever plan the Princ.i.p.al had, keeping that piece of knowledge to himself had to be important.

The Guildmaster continued. "I'd be very surprised if even any of the other Guildmasters were aware of the extent of it and I don't know how many in the Princ.i.p.ate know. I'm happy to have it remain that way, Yl Aris," he said pointedly.

"Of course," said Sandon, inclining his head.

"There are enough things to worry about without even mentioning the factional divisions we can expect over the succession question."

"I understand." Another tilt of the head. "Naturally, Guildmaster Ka Vail, I won't say a word."

Ka Vail gave a satisfied nod. "So, Yl Aris, you'll keep me informed of what happens with Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak? I need to be able to move quickly on this, put things in place, depending on the outcome. Understand, I have the best interests of Aldaban at heart, not just the Guild."

"Yes, of course, Guildmaster Ka Vail. That goes without saying."

The old man stood and extended a hand. "Well, thank you for taking the time to come and see me, Yl Aris. I appreciate it."

Sandon stood and shook the proffered hand. "Certainly, Guildmaster. Thank you. As I'm sure you know, I too have Aldaban's interests foremost in mind."

Sandon strode down the front steps of the Guild building and crossed to the waiting groundcar. The door whirred open as he approached. He was due back at the Princ.i.p.ate about ten minutes ago. He took a moment to glance up at the Minor Twin casting its baleful ruddy eye over the city and pursed his lips. Ka Vail was right; things were not going to be easy. He hated the Return just as much as the old Guildmaster. And yet the Kallathik seemed to manage with minimal disruption to their lives, but from the sound of things, there was more going on between the Kallathik and Primary Production than was immediately apparent. That was definitely worth further investigation.

He slipped into the groundcar, gratefully. This would be one of the last journeys he would be able to make before they became too dangerous to operate. It really was about time the Guild of Technologists found a solution to their instability. With a shake of his head, he tapped in the destination.

He watched the pa.s.sing buildings as the groundcar moved silently through the streets. He was as concerned as Ka Vail about Men Darnak's plans. Sandon Yl Aris had done well out of his loyalty to Leannis Men Darnak. He had lands, and wealth, but a new order could easily upset his hard-won position. A change of regime could herald changes to Aldaban and the Guilds, changes that would little benefit its people. Since the first colony ships had been forced to land, the families had run everything, just as they had in the years that the vast mother ship had traveled between the stars.

He pursed his lips and shifted his gaze to follow a sole Atavist riding through the streets on the back of a padder. The man's homespun robes fell about him, drab and dusty. Twin baskets were draped across the animal's back, vegetables poking out over their rims. The Atavist turned his face away as the groundcar skimmed past, almost as if by doing so, he could deny its existence. Sandon snorted. It was bad enough that the people of Aldaban had to forego many comforts of technology for part of the twin sun's cycle, much worse to do so intentionally. Sandon shuddered to think how they could live like that. Still, religion did strange things to people's minds.

A chime from the groundcar's instrument panel told him they were approaching the Princ.i.p.ate, and he leaned forward in his seat, trying to count the number of vehicles already cl.u.s.tered in front of the building complex. The central Princ.i.p.ate offices were long and low, constructed of thick stone built to withstand most of what the Minor Twin could throw at them. The dark brown stone spread uniformly throughout Yarik, the capital, as it did through every city on Aldaban. The austere traditions of the First Families had certainly left their legacy.

The groundcar slid to a stop in one of the scattered empty parking s.p.a.ces and the door rose at a touch of his finger. He stepped out and scanned the vehicles parked around him as the door slid shut beside him. The news of Men Darnak's announcement had brought them in like scavenger lizards. Well, there was nothing else for it. Time to see what Men Darnak really had planned. With set jaw, Sandon Yl Aris strode up the front steps and inside to see what fate was about to deliver.

Three.

Sandon stepped quickly into the long ceremonial chamber used for state functions, cursing inside. Because of his lateness, he would be forced to maneuver carefully past the ranked officials already present. With his lips pressed into a tight line, he tried to spy the best way through. A quick scan of the faces revealed many he knew. Representatives of several major Guild families cl.u.s.tered together across the broad s.p.a.ce, but, in this instance, only those that had close political ties within the Princ.i.p.ate. Men Darnak, it appeared, had been very careful about distributing the knowledge of his announcement. As usual, the Princ.i.p.al wanted to control the dynamic of the news, channeling it first through those to whom he gave the most trust. Typical Men Darnak.

Torches sat bracketed on the pillars lining the side walls, already burning, their light dimmed by the three vast chandeliers hanging from the ceiling's middle. Had it been two months earlier and the torches would have remained unlit, but now, with the Minor Twin threatening, it was better to be sure. A harsh burst from the twinned suns, or another quick quake, could put the power out at any time. A low murmur echoed from the walls as those in attendance stood fidgeting, waiting for Men Darnak to appear.

Mumbling polite words of apology, Sandon slipped between the a.s.sembled officeholders and made his way to the front. There were protests and offended looks as he wormed his way through, but as soon as they saw who it was, the expressions quickly changed. Inwardly wincing at every unnecessary piece of extra attention he was gathering, he finally found a spot. The a.s.sembled Guild people knew who Sandon was right enough; he just didn't like to advertise. Just as well he could rely on Men Darnak's penchant for the dramatic to divert any real attention. The Princ.i.p.al would draw out the moment, the expectation of the crowd, until the last possible second, then with a suitably theatrical entrance, he would sweep away all thought of anything else.