Sirocco Prologue and Chapter 1

Sirocco
          Prologue

To the ever-curious human mind, the Constellation provides an inexhaustible supply of questions. Men have never resisted the urge to expand and explore, to not just discover but take, and the orbital system of over a hundred million continent-sized worldlets was the perfect place to nurture Magellan's Children. Just a million kilometres from the system's sun, a few hundred from each other, the larger worlds create their own distortion of space time and gravity, catching smaller sub-planets like the proverbial lead ball on the rubber sheet. These gravity centres in turn rotate around each other in an endless dance. Their nearness and complete coverage of every approach to the sun collected air like a vast butterfly net; giving rise to wind, storms, and tides in the air. Rain and clouds drift between worlds and whirl through the sub-systems as planet sized hurricanes.

 Through this ordered chaos life somehow evolved - we humans a part of it, no wiser to our origins than any of the myriad of other creatures. From storms and rain came water, lakes and rivers that breathed life into fish and amphibians; they in turn became animals with legs and wings, growing larger and learning to fly with increasing ability. The plants that carpet rainforest worlds hang in streamers in the wake of planets, birds flying from tree to dangling tree and monkeys scampering across vines kilometres 'up'. Waterfalls poured from the edges of smaller planets, and winged fish evolved & became the first to soar across the void.

 It is from these miraculous and magnificent beginnings that we, humans, the only known sentient species in the Constellation, began. Nobody knows where, or from what world, or from what species. But in five thousand years of recorded history we have become the greatest explorers the universe has ever seen. Taking inspiration from the great flying whales, the huge condors and eagles that glide loftily from planet to planet, we invented the Skyship. Similar but not alike to the primitive wooden vessels we use to traverse the seas, skyships are masterpieces of engineering; based around a large flat-topped hull, masts soar gracefully over the upper deck and hang from its sides, suspending gossamer webs of sail between them. Teams of men run through the rigging and across the deck, angling sails to gain lift and speed with intrepid daring, stretching the ingenuity of science to gain new levels of speed and height.

 Trading companies were founded almost immediately after the innovation of banking, carrying unique goods from one world to another and passengers on trips to distant planets. They established mines on moons at the outer fringes of humanity, brought back holds piled high with gold bars. Specialised companies even founded colonies of their own, or built ships specifically rigged to fly far into the unknown. Some never returned. Factions competed with each other to harvest the wonders of the Constellation, dawning a golden age of interplanetary trade. However as skyships were built, colonies were founded and men became greedy for the possessions of each other, the once harmonious nation of humanity fractured and split. They warred, arming their skyships with catapults and rams and their sailors with swords and bows. The parachute was developed, then gunpowder, revolutionising air warfare. Skyships were equipped with batteries of iron cannon, taking capability for destruction to new levels.

 The modern constellation is compromised of seven hundred and twenty-six human nations, with nearly six thousand planets of varying sizes between them. Kingdoms, empires, republics have come and gone, their ruins dusty and their history forgotten. Humanity is always recreating the old and establishing new orders, new leaders, new famed skyship captains raised to legend for their exploits. We are still expanding, still exploring, and will do so until the end of time.



          Chapter 1

The cold light of dawn threw iron-grey shadows across the room, its minimalist, Spartan fittings adding to the gloomy environment, like a prison under the guard's spotlight. The icy illumination and a slight, chilling breeze were admitted through a jagged hole in one wall - not in fact a wall, but a portion of a skyship's hull that this cabin was a part of. The hole had evidently been caused by cannon fire, and small splinters from the shot's impact pocketed the cabin's inside surfaces.

Enlay Kenn stood by this gash in his room, leaned an arm on the torn wood, and surveyed the harsh desert before him. The view was of Shalinel, the home world of the Shalin nation and one of the largest trade centres in the Constellation, and of the vast city of Makahim, spires and towers reaching up like claws as if to drag down the sky. Beyond them a squadron of Talanoni battleships were serenely coming over the horizon, endlessly orbiting in their constant blockade with the rest of a thousand-strong fleet of ships. This world was cut off for all but the most intrepid - Kenn's ship had made the desperate, plunging descent through the upper atmosphere, fighting ships many times larger than herself to land at Makahim's fortified skyport.

Kenn took the navy blue jacket that marked him as a Brevet 2nd Lieutenant from a peg on the door and put it on, the broad cut too tight on his broader shoulders and colour contrasting his blonde hair. Excitement and anticipation contrasted with weariness and a desire for human warmth; in his position as a junior officer aboard the crack frigate Diane, there was precious little of that to be had. Yesterday's desperate battle to break through the blockade had left him physically and mentally exhausted, and alone with himself in the black hours of night.

The young officer bent to the satchel at his feet, checking by feel that its contents were in place; pistol, ammunition, water bottle and miniature telescope, a gift from his mother upon the ship's hasty departure. The bag's final item, a small, leather-bound book, he retrieved and placed in an upper coat pocket. Kenn retrieved his sword from its place on the bed and slung it by his left side - without its usual comforting sensation of security, replaced by a cold alienation. The weapon was sharp and brutally clean, as Kenn had spent most of the previous night scrubbing away the slightest bloodstain, getting precious little sleep. Finally his black tricorne hat, placed at a reserved, formal angle atop his head. He withdrew a gold fob watch and clicked it open, noting the time.

There was a brief, polite knock at the door. The young Lieutenant turned and crossed the room, opening the door to see a ship's boy of the lower deck standing at what approached attention.

'Master's compliments, sir, and the shore-boat will be leavin' in five minutes,' the boy said, probably no more than ten years old. Kenn looked down at him for a moment, studied the cherubic, earnest face and slight smudge of dirt on his forehead. He sighed, and ruffled the child's hair.

'Very well, John, return my compliments to Mr Warham and tell him I will be up presently.'

The boy scampered off up the gangway to the main deck, and Kenn followed him out of the cabin with the satchel over his shoulder, turning left instead to go down a cramped corridor. After a few steps the 2nd Lieutenant quietly opened a door and looked through it into the small room beyond, only slightly larger than his own. Again similarly, the cabin was largely unfurnished, with two uniform jackets hanging from a rack and a sword leaning against the far wall. It belonged to Anton Kenn, his older brother and superior officer aboard this vessel. Unlike his sibling Anton was adventurous, living in the present, and never gave a moment's more thought to the past than was absolutely required.

Kenn stepped into the room almost silently to see a figure in a plain bed, asleep, tightly wrapped in blankets against the cold but for a bandaged left forearm. Kenn's sword's scabbard clattered loudly against the doorframe, and he turned quickly to muffle it, but his brother's breathing remained deep and regular. He made to move further into the room but paused and stayed in the doorway, looking down uncertainly with a hand upon the wall.

Unnoticed by his brother, the man opened his eyes and turned his head to see Kenn partly draw his sword, inspecting the five or so inches of gleaming silver steel that had been removed from the dusty black scabbard. The young Lieutenant ran his fingers over the flat side of the blade, then lightly over the edge, expression blank and eyes dulled to the present. His other hand tightened on the sword's hilt until his knuckles turned white.

The fingers paused over a small spot of red, and Kenn withdrew a cloth from a jacket pocket, wiping the blade. He frowned and tried harder, spitting on the cloth and rubbing furiously, but the spot remained resolute. Furiously he attacked the spot, Kenn wrenched the weapon from its sheath with a growl of frustration and threw the cloth across the room, holding the sword up to the light of an open porthole. His heavy, angry breaths fogged the steel and eclipsed his reflection, which could easily be seen in the immaculately polished steel. Slowly the young officer lowered the blade until it hung by his side slackly, loose in his fingers. He sighed and rested his forehead on one hand, taking off his hat and rubbing the day's stubble on his chin, and then turned to walk out the door with a sigh.

'It was him or you.' Anton said from the bed with quiet compassion and uncharacteristic understanding, startling Kenn from his reverie. 'Yes, I'm awake,' he continued with a touch of sarcasm in his refined accent. 'Don't ask how. If you'd made any more noise coming in I'd have thought there was an elephant in my room.'

Kenn smiled slightly and closed the door behind him, sitting down on the bed and placing the satchel by his feet. His brother shifted up slightly and leaned his back on the headboard, freeing his arms from their entrapment. Two years his senior, Anton was 1st Lieutenant of the marine company aboard Diane and led them, including Kenn, into battle. He had suffered a minor gunshot wound in the blockade run and had been confined to bed by the ship's doctor.

'Probably the first time in my life I've awakened to see an angry, armed man standing over me,' Anton said, amused, but returned to a serious frame of mind as Kenn looked away in embarrassment. Anton studied his face, noting an expression that was currently beyond its twenty-one years. 'It's not your fault.'

'Thank you, but I'm aware that charging into people's rooms fully armed is frowned upon in polite society,' the younger man replied with a straight face.

'That's not what I meant,' Anton replied, mildly annoyed, but was interrupted by a frantic pounding of small feet down the gangway outside.

'That'll be John again,' the 2nd Lieutenant said, standing up. 'Mr Warham can be a most -' Kenn's voice was muffled for a moment as he ducked his head, replacing the satchel around his neck on the opposite shoulder '- tiresomely punctual man at times.'

There was a furious rapping at the door. 'A moment, John, if you please?' Kenn called out, pulling a small fob watch from his coat and flicking it open. 'The time is twenty-four minutes to seven,' he said to Anton, shutting the watch with a snap. 'Sixty seconds. I don't know what he's complaining about.'

'Look at you,' Anton said with a raised eyebrow, looking the immaculately uniformed officer up and down as he straightened his jacket and adjusted his hat. 'The dashing marine officer, conquering new worlds and the hearts of young ladies!'

'Shut up,' Kenn said abruptly. The door-knocking came again, more insistent than before.

'Mr Warham's right proper angry, sir!' came a plaintive, anxious voice from behind the door. 'He says that shore-leave men shoulda bin there a good five minutes early! He says you posh officers come in your own sweet time and no doubt about it!'

There was an dreadful pause as the boy realised this last sentence was probably not intended for repetition to the officers in question. The two men, aware of this and of relative innocence of the child who had accidentally repeated it, exchanged glances of quiet mirth.

Kenn stood and made a cracking salute. 'Permission to depart, sir?'

'Granted,' his brother replied. Kenn turned to the door.

'Wait,' Anton said, leaning over and rummaging under the bed. The infirmed officer returned with a small leather purse of coins, which he tossed to his brother. 'Pocket money. Buy me a book while you're in Makahim, I'm confined to bed until Thursday.'

'Thanks,' Kenn replied, opening the door. The 2nd Lieutenant walked briskly down the corridor and ran up the gangway, returning the Mr Warham's icy glare with a cheerful grin. The grin faded, however, as he took his place in the stern sheets of the ship's cutter and looked up into the empty blue sky.