Binary: New and Revised Edition Read online

  Binary

  Jay Caselberg

  Jay Caselberg

  Copyright © Jay Caselberg 2010

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  For Jim

  INTRODUCTION

  When this novel was first released as a Creative Commons venture, it garnered over 17,000 downloads. At that time, I decided to proceed with a version on Amazon. You will notice in reading, substantial parallels to King Lear, and this is deliberate on my part. Just as the weather acts as a character within Lear, so too the impacts of living within a binary star system form a backdrop to the action that occurs within the story, informing the underlying mood and events. We have seen many versions of Shakespeare appear in different time periods, different settings. As far as I was aware no one had done a science fiction Lear. Think of it as a tribute, an homage. Just as The Seven Samurai became The Magnificent Seven, became Battle Beyond the Stars, this great classic ached for a version set in a star system far, far away.

  --Jay Caselberg September 2017

  So out went the candle and we were left darkling.

  — The Fool

  One

  Leannis Men Darnak shifted uneasily on his padder. The beast snorted, sensing the repositioning of the Principal’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 grassland below.

  The suns were beating down upon the plain, the weather warm, and the Clear Season grasses 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 grasslands, 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 grassland 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 sturdy ajura trees spaced 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 grasses. 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 grasses. 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 grasses, 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 massive 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 grassed spaces. Men Darnak only hoped he would have the fortune to come across the beast in such a space. 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 centre stood the chuckah, its flat, bony head swivelling 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, swivelled its attention back to the immobile Roge.

  “No, Principal, 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 space 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 armoured plates. The beast screamed, high, piercing and Men Darnak twisted. It screamed again and fell back 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 Principal. 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 bloody 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 passing 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 bloody 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 damned 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 humour.

  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 centre. 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 Principal Men Darnak is up to. That should 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 passing 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 accumulation 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 Principal 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 Principate—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 grey 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 superstitious 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 must 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 rumours, 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 Principal, 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 Principate. 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 Principate.”

  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 grey 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."