Book One: Chapter Five: i
“The only good Ustur is a dead Ustur.”
- Bohemian proverb
Local Time: 10:04
Date: Day 127 of the Year 93 according to the Bohemian Calendar - Year 2623 according to the Galactic Calendar
Location: North-East of Danu - Planet Bohemia - Mid Risk Zone - MUD Territory - Galia
The Fimbul Lowbie’s Subwarp Engine purred with a deep, steady rumble that Cillian could feel in his bones. He loved the sensation. And the sound. The powerful engine had been customised by Toal so that it was now capable of outputting a staggering nine hundred and thirty horsepower at eight thousand rpm.
But Cillian was presently cruising along at just over one hundred and sixty kilometres per hour. Nothing near its max speed. His destination was the National University’s Military Training Campus, which was located one hundred and twelve kilometres to the north-east of Danu. Below the speeding ship, sprawling forest stretched away in each direction in a seemingly endless carpet of verdant, velvet greenery. There were no human-made ground dwellings, nor any other infrastructure this far out from the capital city. In fact, the vast majority of the land on the planet of Bohemia was composed of wild forests. Caedmon, the founder of Bohemia, had intentionally terraformed the planet in this way.
Cillian glanced at the readings on his dashboard, checking how much further to they had to go.
Less than fifty kilometres to go. Just over halfway, thought Cillian to himself.
Despite the fact that Cillian had been a champion Fimbul Airbike rider in his early twenties, nowadays he preferred piloting his Lowbie. He had dubbed the ship Luas, which meant ‘speed’ in the Irish language. He found the Lowbie more comfortable, which made for a more relaxing flight. It was also his preferred mode of transport due to its ability to accommodate an extra passenger. This allowed him to easily travel with Reginald. Whilst Reginald could in theory ride behind Cillian on an Airbike if required, the idea of being grasped for any length of time by Reginald’s metal robotic arms and fingers was not particularly appealing to Cillian.
There was, however, one more passenger in the Lowbie. The dog Luna had been waiting beside Reginald at the exit ramp of Ádh when Cillian had been departing. As usual, he had been unable to resist her pleading eyes. She somehow always knew when he was going out and would be there waiting for him. That being said, the truth was that he actually enjoyed her company and, for this reason, rarely denied her request to join him in his non-military ventures.
“Reg,” said Cillian without turning. “What is the meaning of life?”
“Sir, I am not a living being, therefore I cannot answer this question.”
“Oh, how boring. Tell me a joke then.”
There was an extended silence as Reginald searched the public network for a joke. Cillian took the opportunity to take a swig from his hip flask of whisky.
“A robot gets arrested.”
Reginald did not say anything further.
“And…?”
“He is charged with battery.”
“Oh dear.”
Luna, who was curled up at the feet of Reginald, began to bark in her sleep.
“The canine appears to find it amusing,” said Reginald.
“Oh bollocks. She does not. She is dreaming. Not that you would know what that is.”
“Dreaming is the period of involuntary hallucinations that afflicts some higher order sentient organisms during sleeping.”
“I guess that is one way to describe it,” mumbled Cillian. “But what you cannot and will not ever comprehend is —“ but Cillian abruptly stopped speaking mid sentence.
What had caught his attention was the sudden appearance of three VZUS ambwe ships, which had ascended into the air from a clearing in the forest below. Whilst brigands and bandits were relatively uncommon on Bohemia, given the brutal effectiveness of the National Military and National Police forces, they were not unheard of. Occasionally, the odd newspaper article of someone being accosted by bandits surfaced in the Boheme Telegraph, the official National newspaper publication. But the stories almost always ended with the capture and arrest of the criminals in question. Perhaps they only published the stories that concluded with the good guys winning.
“Reginald, please send a message to Major Maeve at the National Military University to advise that we may be delayed.”
“Sir, I am unable to send any messages. We are being radio-jammed.”
“Switch to emergency military frequency and contact the Danu Police Department. Request immediate backup. High likelihood of hostile engagement. Send the location co-ordinates,” said Cillian, his speech rapid and precise.
“Authorisation password required to engage emergency military frequency, sir.”
“Star divinity sixty-five opal newtown.”
“Accepted. Switching to emergency military frequency,” said Reginald. “Sir, we are blocked on all frequencies. All incoming and outgoing signals are jammed. There is only one open frequency.”
“Damn it,” swore Cillian, his brow furrowing in frustration. “Okay, hail them on the open frequency.”
A few moments later, a muffled voice was heard over the radio. The speaker was clearly disguising their identity by using voice distortion technology.
“You are ordered to land in the clearing ahead. Failure to comply will be met with lethal force.”
Cillian grabbed the corded radio microphone and flicked it on. “Ordered by whom?” quipped Cillian sarcastically.
There was no response to Cillian’s question.
Cillian sighed and placed the microphone back on the dash. He took another swig of whisky.
“Reginald, it looks like our day just got a lot more interesting. Should we try to outrun the bastards? I bet Luas would be able to beat them in a straight race.”
“Sir, I believe that their missiles have locked on to our ship and at this distance the probability of escaping alive, should they fire the missiles, would be minimal.”
“Ever the party pooper, aye, Reg. I suspect you are correct, though.”
Cillian slowed down the ship and began to veer towards the clearing in the forest. He could see that it had only recently been cleared by what appeared to have been explosive impacts. This was clearly pre-meditated. The question was whether they had been waiting for him specifically or had just been waiting to ambush the first unsuspecting and unguarded ship that would pass by.
Once Cillian had landed the Lowbie, two of the three ships followed suit and landed nearby. Their entrance hatches quickly opened and three tall figures emerged from each ship. The six soldiers wore full battle dress, armoured black space suits, combat helmets, jet packs and assault plasma rifles. The third VZUS ambwe, which had not landed, held a holding pattern above them, no doubt as a precautionary measure in case Cillian attempted to escape in his ship.
Cillian remained sitting in the car, observing the soldiers as they fanned out around his ship.
These are no ordinary bandits. They appear to be trained soldiers, thought Cillian.
As they moved closer, he could see that their assault rifles had been customised. They sported short range scopes, barrel compensators, vertical grips and extended magazines.
These look to be mercenary soldiers, likely ex-military, but by their tall stature, they do not appear to be human. Most likely Ustur then. Off-worlders, thought Cillian as he quickly appraised the situation.
But Cillian noticed something odd about the movement of the rearmost two soldiers. They are limping. One of them very badly, thought Cillian as he observed the way the left leg dragged along the ground. They have recently been in a scuffle, it would appear.
The muffled voice came over the radio again.
“You are ordered to exit from the ship.”
“Sir, I do believe that these individuals appear to have hostile intentions.”
“I think I would agree with you on this one, Reg.”
By this time, Luna had awoken from her slumber. Sensing potential danger, she began to whimper.
“It is okay, Luna. I need you to stay here in the car and guard it for me, okay?” said Cillian as he reached back behind Reginald’s seat to grab a pair of pink-rimmed aviator sunglasses, a crumpled flower-bedecked long-sleeved shirt and matching loose pants and a shiny metal sphere. “Uncle Reggie and I will take care of this. We shall not be long. I promise.”
Luna appeared to be reassured by the tone in Cillian’s voice. She stopped her whimpering and rested her head back down. The tinted glass of Cillian’s Lowbie had been customised to provide complete privacy for the occupants. Knowing this, Cillian quickly removed his military uniform and slipped the floral shirt and floral pants over his military under-armour. The under-armour was effectively concealed from view once he had donned his civilian garments.
He had left his combat space suit back on Ádh as he had not anticipated a hostile encounter this day. But he would not be completely defenceless as he was still wearing his under-armour, which was actually an extremely high-grade military defensive device capable of generating a powerful personal energy shield when required.
“Sir, will you require my combat services today?”
“Reg, I do believe I may.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Follow my lead, though. And remember, you are supposed to be just a dumb butler robot, so make sure you act the part. Just like we have practiced. Understood?”
“Understood, sir. I note, however, that you have brought no guns with you on this journey.”
“Why on Bohemia would I need any guns when I have you?” asked Cillian with a wide grin. Cillian took a final long swig of whisky and donned his straw hat, ensuring it sat slightly akimbo on his head. “Plus, I always have my fists of fury,” continued Cillian, wiggling a ring-bedecked hand as he opened his driver-side door with the other hand. In fact Cillian sported eight silver-coloured rings in total; one on each finger of his two hands.
Once the pair had emerged from Luas, the third mercenary ship, which had been circling above, descended to land.
The nearest mercenary soldier, clearly the leader of the team, was presently walking towards Cillian, their assault rifle raised at the ready.
“Greetings and salutations, ladies and gentleman,” said Cillian loudly, intentionally slurring his words to feign drunkenness. He was still holding his hip flask in his left hand as he opened his arms wide in what he intended to be a welcoming gesture. Cillian did in fact look the very image of an arrogant young playboy out for a drunken joy ride.
“Oh, so sorry if I have offended. By your towering stature, I surmise you may be Ustur and I do believe if I am not mistaken that you do not identify with any gender so my reference to ladies and gentleman may have come across as rather insensitive. Non-binary would you say? Do you have preferred pronouns? How should I address you?”
The other ship had now landed, and two additional mercenary soldiers joined the group. Eight mercenary soldiers in total were now arrayed before Cillian, with the leader halting three metres before him at the same time that Reginald was arriving by Cillian’s side.
Curious. Only two soldiers emerged from the third ship. No signs of anyone else aboard the ship. Third team likely suffered a casualty, thought Cillian.
The mercenary leader took their left hand off their assault rifle to press a button on the side of their helmet and in the process of doing so, the barrel of their assault rifle began to droop towards the ground. The visor flicked up to reveal an Ustur face. Cillian’s sharp gaze caught a grimace of pain as the Ustur struggled to keep the rifle level with only their right arm holding it. They were ultimately unable to achieve this and only once the left hand had returned to its supporting position on the rifle were they once again able to aim the assault rifle back on Cillian.
Right arm injury, thought Cillian. No visible wounds would suggest internal damage. Possibly a fractured radius. Wait, do Ustur have radius bones? Likely not. Absurd of me to think they would have the same anatomy as humans. Note to self: need to learn more about Ustur anatomy.
“Ah, my supposition was correct. You are indeed Ustur,” said Cillian, bringing his hands down beside him. He made sure to sway back and forth on his feet as he spoke, to further feed the image of intoxication. “Welcome to Bohemia. My name is Cillian, and this here is my good-for-nothing butler, Reginald.”