To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well) Read online

  To Well And Back

  Book 2 of The Deep Dark Well Trilogy

  By

  Doug Dandridge

  Books by Doug Dandridge

  Doug Dandridge’s Author Page at Amazon

  Science Fiction

  The Exodus Series

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

  The Deep Dark Well Series

  The Deep Dark Well

  To Well and Back

  Deeper and Darker (coming Summer 2013)

  Others

  The Shadows of the Multiverse

  Diamonds in the Sand

  The Scorpion

  Afterlife

  Fantasy

  The Refuge Series

  Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

  Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

  Doppelganger: A Novel of Refuge

  Others

  The Hunger

  Daemon

  Aura

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  Got to watch those space altering fields, she thought, watching the enemy vectors closely. Coming in front of a Nation ship would destroy her vessel. Come directly astern? She wasn’t sure what would happen, but she didn’t want to chance anything. So she set her approach and retreat vectors with care, then waited. Until the wait was over.

  The ship’s clock started a countdown at ten seconds, Pandora just an observer to things that were going to happen faster than even her reaction time could account for. At three seconds one of the enemy ships started to turn its vector a little, followed by another two a second later. They’ve seen me, she thought. Too late, she thought with a wolfish grin, as Avenger opened up with all weapons.

  The lasers from the front ring hit first, two beams on two targets. Both ships had electromag fields up, not strong enough, as they were not expecting an attack. The ships were still moving at several times the speed of light subjective, so the beams were fired well ahead and shot quickly along the hulls, the projectors swinging them along to increase the milliseconds of contact, ripping through metal and opening rooms to space. Particle beams hit a moment later, a quick burst of each on the two ships that were targeted. Uncharged particles hit the hulls, causing ripping damage. Followed by the antimatter beam which hit with explosive force.

  Avenger dropped a quartet of missiles at the same time she fired her beam weapons. The missiles took off at thirty thousand gravities accel, moving onto their separate targets, vessels further back in the formation that they could intersect at the times the hyperspatial ships got there. It was a difficult mathematical problem, and like most such it didn’t provide perfect answers. One came in too far to the front of one vessel and disappeared from current space-time. One missed to the stern of a ship and exploded, but the blast could not catch the ship. One entered the actual field containing a ship exploded overhead, sending a flood of heat and radiation into that vessel. The last missile hit its target dead center. The quarkium warhead blasted with hundreds of gigatons of power, and the ship was blown first to pieces, then to particles as its own antimatter breached containment. The space destroying drive died in that instant.

  “Eat shit, you xenophobe motherfuckers,” yelled Pandi over the grav wave com, following with her best rebel yell.

  And then she was past the enemy ships, her stern lasers and particle beams taking them under fire for the fraction of a millisecond that they were viable targets. She didn’t bother with any missiles, they just would have been decelerating to slow down from the imparted momentum of her ship, and would have been out of range by the time they had developed any vector toward the enemy warships. Pandora smirked as she looked into her viewer, watching the expanding mass of one enemy ship, and the dead in space hulks of two others. One of the two looked lifeless, while the other was a hive of activity as spacesuits and repair bots started to swarm over the surface.

  Not bad for a quick strike in what really isn’t a warship, she thought, ordering Avenger to begin braking and vector changes to bring her onto the second group, a maneuver which could take several hours. By that time the enemy ships would be in normal space, and she had no doubt they would find a message waiting for them that told of her existence. The next group would be waiting.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Larry Niven, whose writing gave this reader the desire to write about big ideas of his own. Thank you for Ringworld, Known Space and other creations.

  Contact me at [email protected]

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  Copyright © 2013 by Doug Dandridge

  All rights reserved.

  This book is Copyrighted 2013 to Doug Dandridge, all rights reserved. If you enjoy this work then please tell a friend and have them buy a copy online. I think the price is reasonable. Please do not pirate this work. I am a hard working part time writer, and am not making a fortune on my work. Please respect my efforts.

  Chapter One

  Divine right of kings means the divine right of anyone who can get uppermost. Herbert Spencer

  “Would Milady like some more wine?” asked the steward, holding a bottle of the same vintage she had been sampling. It was a very good vintage, something that high tech societies were not able to improve upon.

  “I would love another glass,” said Pandora Latham, acting the part of a great lady, the only role that could get her into the castle of the king. Unless she wanted to join the serving staff, with all the hazards that entailed.

  She looked around the great hall from her place half way down the high table. The hall was filled with people, many of them lesser nobles, who drank and ate with a lack of manners that was appalling even to the former Kuiper Belt miner playing noblewoman. There were dogs all through the hall, begging for scraps, attacking anything that struck the floor, growling and fighting among themselves. The manners of the people in the great hall were not much better.

  Just how in the hell does Watcher think he’s going to civilize these people, she thought, stabbing her fork into a slice of beef and bringing it to her mouth, biting off a workable chunk. They’re fucking barbarians if I’ve ever seen them. Worse than Tennessee fans. She shook her head at that last thought, remembering that some people had said the same about her beloved Tide.

  Two men started arguing at one of the low tables, and soon were trying to attack each other with their fists over the wooden top. Others laughed and pointed, and it was apparent that this was part of the regular evening’s entertainment. One of the men pulled a dagger from his belt and slammed it down on the table, skewering the hand of the other man, and raising more laughter. The man so assaulted screamed bloody murder, trying to pull the dagger from his hand and the wood underneath. He finally succeeded with a cry and held the dagger in his good hand, glaring at the man who had injured him and tensing his muscles to jump across the table. Armored men-at-arms, the soldiers of the King, chose that moment to intervene, separating the men before more blood was spilled.

  A serving woman put another tray of bread on the table, and Pandi found herself staring at the rough hands of the still young woman, and the two fingers missing joints on the near hand. She pulled in a breath of shock as she saw that, wondering what had happened to the poor girl to injure her so. Watcher told me this was a rough place, and that people had a hard life. But I never realized it was like this.

  [Just keep it cool,] said Watcher over the link. [Remember, this is a different culture, not to be judged from the vantage point of our own.]


  [Don’t give me that every culture is universally good crap,] she sent mentally over the com, up to the satellite and through the wormhole link to the Donut. [Even in my day I knew that was bullshit.]

  [I’m not saying it is good,] said the genetically engineered Immortal Superman. [It would drive me crazy to be trapped among such people. Just remember that you are not there to change their world. Not yet. Soon, but not yet.]

  Pandi nodded and let her awareness of the link fade, getting back into the moment, where she needed to be. She had, after all, talked Watcher into letting her explore these Supersystem worlds. He had thought there was no need. Not with his ability to monitor them without their knowing. But she had insisted on a boots on the ground approach, and here she was.

  “And how was Milady’s journey?” asked the handsome, once you got past the bad teeth, nobleman across the table from her. Like all the people he had a rough look about him, and was probably much younger than he looked.

  “It was long and tedious,” she said, wondering how he would react if she told him she had flown here at faster than light speed from a structure he couldn’t imagine. She batted her eyes and smiled at him, knowing what kind of effect that had to be having on him. She was an exotic among these dark people, with her long red hair, blue eyes and freckled skin. And that’s all you’re going to get from me, Boyo, she thought, reading the look in his eyes. She had been with many men in her life, but she was a one man woman at any time. And Watcher was currently that man.

  “Perhaps you would like to take a walk in the gardens?” said the man, and Pandi knew exactly what he was looking for, which was not just conversation. Rape was actually common in this kind of society, and Pandora Latham wondered if the man knew how lucky he was that she wasn’t going to give him a chance.

  “Maybe later,” she said, forcing herself to return the smile. She put a hand on the hilt of the sword she had belted to her waist, glad to feel it was in place. They thought it strange that a woman was armed, but seemed to believe my tale of being the only child of a distant nobleman, trained to fight and needing to protect myself on the road. I wouldn’t want to be separated from it among these cutthroats. There were still some looks at the type of blade she carried, as katanas were not common in these parts, if they had ever been seen at all. Her explanation of its origin had met with nods from ignorant people who did not want to be thought such.

  “Wench,” yelled a voice from the head of the high table. “How dare you.”

  Pandi looked up, feeling a shiver of nervousness at the tone of that voice, and saw a serving wench standing there with a horrified expression on her face. A noble she had been introduced to before, she thought he was a Duke, had a tight grip on one of her hands, while he ran a cloth over his face, which dripped with liquid.

  “I am sorry, Milord,” said the woman in a voice pitched high in fear. “It was an accident. I did not mean to do it.”

  “You know the punishment for such clumsiness, Sarah,” said the King in the tone of one talking to a child, pulling a dagger from the sheath by his side and gesturing for the Duke to bring her over.

  He’s not going to kill her? thought Pandi, her eyes widening. Not just for spilling some wine?

  The Duke dragged the woman to the Monarch, then pushed the hand down on the table. A hand that was already missing a joint on the little finger. And then she knew.

  Dear God no. They can’t be serious. She tensed, her muscles tightening as she prepared to move.

  [Calm down, Pandora,] said Watcher over the link.

  [Reading my mind again?]

  [No,] said Watcher, his tone serious. [Your vital signs. And I don’t like what I’m seeing.]

  [Me either,] said Pandi, watching the King put his dagger blade on top of the serving woman’s ring finger, at the first joint. And damned if I’m going to let this happen.

  “Hey, you,” said Pandi, standing up and pushing her chair back, hand on her sword hilt. A lot of faces turned her way, some smiling, some frowning. None of them knowing what she was about. “You. The King. You fat fuck.” Pandi started walking toward the King, ignoring the people who were staring at her, their mouths dropping open in shock that someone would talk so to the ruler.

  [Oh shit,] said Watcher over the link. [At least get your robots into the game.]

  Forgot all about them, thought Pandi, reaching out and linking with her two guards and three servants, all of which were not what they seemed.

  [Don’t start a blood bath,] warned Watcher, his voice resigned.

  Nothing he can do about it, thought Pandi, stopping five meters from the King and his Duke. This is my call, and it’s going down the way I want it to.

  “What is the meaning of this?” asked the King, his hard eyes meeting hers.

  “The meaning of this is that I’m not about to let you mutilate that poor girl,” said Pandi, her own voice taking an edge, her blue eyes hard as they glared into the piggish orbs of the King.

  “Are you insane, woman,” said the Duke, while the King glanced at some of his men, who started to move toward Pandi, hands on sword hilts.

  “I’m mad as hell is what I am. You are not going to hurt that woman.”

  “This woman is mine, to do with as I please,” said the King, looking at the serving girl, then back at Pandora with an angry glare. “As I will do to you when I am through with her.”

  Three things then happened at once. The King pushed down on his blade, cutting into the finger of the serving woman. The woman screamed in pain, and tried to jerk her hand away from the grip of the Duke. And a trio of men came at Pandi, intending to grab her and hold her for the King’s pleasure. The first two events went as expected. The woman’s joint was severed from her finger while the Duke kept her hand in place. The last went anything but as planned.

  Pandi had allowed Watcher to augment her after the trouble she had on her first adventure away from the Donut. One side effect was that she was among the long lived now, a woman who would remain young and beautiful for centuries to come. She had four hundred years or more to live, as long as her life wasn’t terminated in a manner that could not be readily fixed, like beheading, or being burned to death. But because of that augmentation she would not be an easy target.

  “No,” she yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice reverberating from the walls and ceiling, while people put their hands over ears. The world slowed down to Pandi’s perception, everyone moving in slow motion while she continued to react in what seemed to her to be real time. She pulled her blade from the sheath, at the same time jumping into the air to plant a front snap kick into the chest of the nearest assailant. The kick pushed him back onto the floor, landing on his buttocks, hands reaching to his chest as he grimaced in pain. And he was the lucky one of the trio.

  The blade of the silver katana in Pandi’s hand swung out, to contact the neck of the second man with perfect precision. Blade cut through flesh and bone as if they were cobwebs, and the man’s head spun through the air, while blood spurted in great gouts from his neck. She continued around with the blade, twisting it into a downward motion that caught the third man on his left shoulder, cutting down and in, separating the left side of his thorax from the right. She twisted the blade again and pulled out, and the left side fell away from the dead man to plop on the floor, while the rest of him fell over the table.

  “Kill her,” yelled the King in a panicked voice, stumbling backwards, his men scrambling to get around him.

  The Duke drew his sword and started forward, bringing the blade back for a killing stroke.

  Here comes your surprise for the day, thought Pandi, bringing her own weapon up on a path that would strike the Duke’s long sword blade to blade. There was a slight clang, a few sparks, all from the Duke’s blade, then Pandi’s sword sliced through the steel of the other weapon. Half the blade fell to the floor, and the duke found himself staring at the foot of steel that was still attached to the hilt.

  Welcome to real technology,
asshole, was Pandi’s thought as she brought her blade back in and sliced through the Duke’s arm, then into his thoracic cavity. The man’s nascent scream turned into a gurgle, and he fell dying to the floor.

  Pandi ducked a sword blade, then jumped over another, turning a back flip in the air. Her blade licked out twice and both swordsmen were falling dead to the floor. She landed lightly on her feet, blocked another blade on the flat of hers, then sliced through chain mail, flesh and bone to leave another man-at-arms dead.

  [Get the hell out of there,] yelled Watcher over the link, his tone alternating between anger and fear. [What the hell are you trying to do?]

  [I’m trying to kill me a son of a bitch,] said Pandi, glancing around. She saw that her robots were sweeping the rest of the hall with sonic stunners. The other celebrants would wake with headaches, but no other harm. As she watched a warrior brought a battle-axe down on the head of a robot that looked like a body servant. The ax rebounded into the air, and the robot’s head took superficial damage to the outer covering. The man stared in horror as the mechanism swept its arm around and hit him with a stunner.

  Pandi looked back to locate the King, the one she was most interested in. She saw him disappear through a doorway, and a half dozen men-at-arms form a wall before that egress. I could have the robots stun a way through, she thought, then dismissed it in an instant. The King could go anywhere in the time it took to get the robots up here, so she couldn’t grant him that time.

  “Get out of my way,” she yelled at the men at arms, running full speed at them, her sword held back for a strike.