by Chris Fox
The final two fighters had a clear run, or thought they did anyway. They still had no idea I was there. Since they hadn’t seen what I’d done to their buddies, I tapped the void sigils again and launched another gravity sphere. Somehow one of the pilots saw it, and a white-grey counterspell zipped from their spellcannon and shattered my spell.
Briff capitalized on the Krox’s distraction, and brought his spellcannon around. He lobbed a life bolt at the craft, which exposed a latticework of wards when it slammed into the side of the vessel. The spell knocked it into a spin, and the fighter had no choice but to fall away and abandon its wingman.
I launched an implode at our last opponent, which the bastard couldn’t dodge, and gave a smile of satisfaction as the Krox fighter came apart at the cockpit. The debris exploded into the storm, and Briff safely glided into the first eddy.
My fighter wobbled, but I steadied my flight and followed my friend into the eye of the most terrifying cosmic anomaly I’d been crazy enough to challenge. The whole fighter shook as the eddy took me, but after a moment the rattling slowed and I accelerated.
Ahead of me I could see the last few Krox fighters dogfighting, though I couldn’t really tell friend from foe. Maybe it was better to think of them all as foes. Three more fighters detonated, and then it was over.
The survivors exited from the eddy, and slowed as they entered an area of relative calm. Bolts of electricity crackled through space, each covering twenty or thirty kilometers before dispersing. They were frequent enough that I expected the ships to get hit, but they nimbly avoided the lightning. They must have some sort of magnetic shielding, and I prayed that I didn’t need to turn it on to get it to work on my fighter.
Briff exited ahead of me, and then I banked into a sharp turn as I fell away from the fast eddy and into the lightning field. Bolts lit the sky around me, but none found my hull, which suggested my fighter had engaged whatever protection it possessed.
“There it is!” Briff’s excited voice came over the comm, and I noted his snout pointing deeper into the anomaly.
Sure enough, a tiny effigy of a humanoid figure bobbed up and down in the storm, complete with ragged brown hair and an equally ragged confederate uniform.
Imagine my surprise when my “companions” began to slow and fan out. They let Briff and I gain ground, and as our momentum increased it became clear they planned to let us get there first.
There was only one reason to do that.
Sure enough, the five surviving fighters all began an attack run at Briff, or so I thought. Three of the fighters broke off at the last minute, and peppered my fighter with acid bolts.
I was caught completely unprepared, and two spells overpowered my life ward and caught my main engine. The fighter sputtered and died, and I began to spin.
I didn’t have to worry for long though. Three more spells slammed into my wounded vessel, and the fighter began to break up. Only instinct saved me, and in that moment I silently thanked Ghora for her brief, but effective, training.
I blinked away from the fighter, straight up into the storm, then blinked again directly into Briff’s path. My amazingly nimble friend whipped around another volley of spells with trivial ease, and extended a large clawed hand as he passed.
I grabbed on and Briff carried me deep into the second eddy, which flung us toward the effigy. Briff’s free hand snapped out, and he seized it, then winged into the eddy again. “May as well save it to give back to Lady Voria.”
I found myself laughing, then reached for dream to apply another camouflage as we left our pursuers behind. And thus ended my Krox training.
Time to get back to the Word, and make contact with the Confederacy.
* * *
Interlude VII - The Offer
The long appointed day Necrotis had chosen to end the Confederacy had at last arrived. Her social media accounts overflowed with followers. Cults flourished on every world, wherever citizens suffered. Famine had only just begun to take root, but fear, and panic, and anger, and the need to take action were all tearing at every world.
Her very favorite part played out on the scry-screen before her. A pretty dark-skinned reporter stood outside the Yantharan Council Hall, where their government met to make monumental decisions. And this particular vote had been monumental indeed.
“The verdict has just been handed down.” The reporter’s expression oozed chagrin. “Despite the support of war hero turned local god, Linus Crewes, the bill lost one hundred and eighty-six to nine. Demons will not be allowed in our system, no matter the cause or the duration of the stay. If Confederate estimates are to be believed this puts our defending fleets at a disadvantage in the coming conflict.”
And there it was. A surge of worship flowed to her as those who’d given into despair sought covenant. Their media told them they might lose, and so in their minds they’d already lost.
More worship flowed in daily, ever increasing and giving the power to further augment her already impressive forces. Even her soulcatcher had nearly given over, and actively worked at research tasks as he helped manage the worlds they enslaved. Perhaps it eased his conscience to know he saved lives and eased the daily existence of so many.
That left her to focus on the battle, and today she’d forbidden her soulcatcher from entering the bridge. She would need to focus and adapt, and likely leave her ship to do battle directly. It would be a challenge, and one she’d need to balance carefully.
Tuat would prove a nasty surprise, but first she needed to maneuver one of their gods into a vulnerable position. That would take some doing, as none of their gods were stupid or impulsive. But everyone had their breaking point.
Necrotis closed her eyes and willed the Wrath to translocate to the jungle planet, several light hours from the world itself. Close enough to be a visible threat, but not so close that the world would scramble fighters.
Had her daughter been on the bridge she would have disdained the tactic, and demanded to know why they’d used it. Utred would have patiently explained that this entire battle existed as theater, not merely a tactical victory. They were a distraction from the true threat. Necrotis missed them both.
She opened her eyes and willed her fleet to mobilize. Six armadas departed from different parts of the ship, each heading to a specific target. Two would clear orbital defenses in preparation for a land invasion, or at least that would be their apparent motive. In truth they would rain pestilence upon the land below and wilt the impenetrable jungles.
All while their eyes focused on the remaining four fleets, and on the battle between gods. Whoever triumphed on the field, the humans lost. And if things soured too much, if she really did lose today, then she could abandon the Wrath and translocate to a place of safety.
The Great Ship’s self-destruct would tear a light-year-sized hole between the realm of the living and the dead, and uncounted spirits would spill out to devour any living they encountered. It would end Yanthara forever, and while it would be a devastating loss it would still leave her with an incredible base of worship across the sector. One the Confederate pantheon could never fully remove, no matter how they hunted for it.
That was failure.
Today would be about victory.
The Confederate forces began deploying in a defensive screen around their world. Two carrier groups bore the sleek new hulls indicative of Ternus craftsmanship. Both moved in unison to engage the unliving fleets challenging the skies.
Behind them came the smaller, but no less impressive, Shayan fleet. Their wooden vessels had been artfully carved to resemble ancient sailing vessels, but spellcannons and an impressive array of wards had been set into each decorative hull. They moved to support their human allies, which vexed her. Technology alone was easily swept aside. Magic could be overpowered through force.
But the pair together magnified each other’s strengths. Her foot soldiers paid a grim price as carriers launched salvo after salvo of gauss rounds, their new alloy draining magic as
it punched through the hulls of her ships.
The Shayans glided forward, and began casting wards at their own ships, the impressively intricate spells clinging to human hulls and protecting them from the flurry of spirit bolts her forces gave in answer.
So Necrotis fired her main gun. She filled it to the brim with souls, and swept the spectral beam over human and Shayan alike. Wights and worse flooded through gaps in wards, and nearly a third of the defenders began plummeting to their deaths from the upper atmosphere as their crews were overwhelmed.
Her remaining fleets surged into the gaps she’d created in the defending lines. Some ships even reached the planet, and silently deployed their invisible cargo into the atmosphere. The rest engaged the damaged defenders with devastating effect. Devastating enough that it drew the first god into the fray.
Necrotis had been quite aware of the Spellship and the Flame of the Knowledge, and of the smaller cruiser, the fabled Talon, lurking at the edge of the battle. Both the Spellship and the Flame began advancing on her position, clearly intending to flank her.
The Talon rocketed toward her fleets with impossible speed, and began lobbing a series of fireballs that incinerated every ship they touched. Nothing but embers fluttered to the atmosphere below, and any ships hit lost their deadly cargos. No matter. Only one or two needed to succeed, and that much had already occurred.
The four larger fleets launched waves of fighters, and began peppering the Shayan lines, bullying them from the field as they overwhelmed the life mages. The Ternus forces pivoted to respond, but too slowly, and too many Shayans were lost in that opening volley.
Wards began to fail on Ternus vessels, just as her main cannon recharged.
Alarms sounded all over the bridge, and Necrotis clutched her hands to her chest, a gesture so instinctive it harkened back to the mortal child she had once been.
Both the Flame and the Spellship were firing their main cannons at her, at the same time. She closed her eyes, and willed the wards to hold.
A spear of pure brilliant life stabbed into her ship, directly over the heart. Had it pierced the wards it would have shattered the very bridge she stood upon. A true kill shot. Her wards discolored, and had she taken that shot before reinforcing them with the worship of millions of new followers, then it would have fallen.
That feat came a moment later when the Flame’s cannon sent a spear of star-stuff hurling toward the Wrath. It punched through the weakened wards, the kinetic force around that much fiery rock barely lessened as the shot burrowed many layers into the ship.
The scry-screen’s lower corner populated with metrics, and she relaxed when she saw that nothing critical had been damaged. The wards surged once more, and returned with renewed intensity as she fed them more divinity.
Then she loosed her response, and the Wrath’s cannon once again raked the mortal fleets. Another large swathe of vessels began to fall as their crews were quickly overpowered, and the Talon’s frantic efforts could do nothing to save them.
She pivoted her cannon to aim at Yanthara, then broadcast a missive to the entire system. “Confederate forces, I imagine you are unfamiliar with necromancer culture. We have many rules and customs that no doubt appear strange to you. This one could save your wretched world, however. I offer myself in single combat against a god or goddess of your choosing, one present here in the system willing to duel to the death, right now. Win and my fleets will depart. Refuse and I end all life on Yanthara.”
A ghostly version of Voria rose from the Spellship, her shining figure visible throughout the sector, the potent life pushing back Necrotis’s spirit. “And why would we deny ourselves any of our forces against you?”
“Because.” Necrotis teleported from her bridge and appeared in the space over their world. Alone and naked to the void save for her simple uniform. “I will fight without the aid of my vessel. If you refuse, then my next shot will end all life on the world below. You will respond by firing upon me with the Spellship and the Flame. As before, you will overwhelm my defenses, and inflict minor damage. But your world will be ashes, and everything you fight for will belong to me. However, I am not without honor. Send your strongest god to do battle. Let her assess my strength, and see if it appears a fair fight.”
She already knew who they’d choose. There was only one choice, really. If they agreed to her contest, then they’d have to send Frit, their powerful fire goddess, steeped in the arts of war, but no more than three decades old. Confident and powerful. Such a heady combination in young gods.
“I will battle you.” The fiery young woman appeared no more than a kilometer away, her divinity a beacon in the black. So much power. “I can see your strength. You are mighty. But you are no stronger than I. I will test my disintegrates against your wards, and when I have dissolved you, your vessel will retreat from the system, or we will destroy it.”
“On my honor as an Outrider, and by the ancient accords of the unliving, I do hereby swear to do honorable combat until one deity expires.” Necrotis shifted into a combat stance, her hair flowing behind her in space. Impressive, but not intimidating to one of Frit’s power and temperament. So young.
“Ready yourself.” Voidflame flared in the woman’s eyes, terrible and furious, and ready to end her once and for all. “Today is the last day you will claim the soul of an innocent.”
Necrotis allowed a cruel smile and beckoned her opponent forward. “I doubt that, child. Come. Do your worst.”
20
Do It Swiftly
Briff and I spent eleven hours circling wide around the Krox fleet and station. So far as I knew the only people who didn’t like me were line troops, but they’d tried to assassinate me on the planet, and then in the space above it. This time they hadn’t even pretended to train me either.
By the time I had a visual on the Word I was over dragon riding. It sounds awesome in the holos, but my crotch ached something fierce from sitting like that for so long, and I badly wanted a nap. I kept trying to nod off, but Briff’s flight was erratic, and every time he twitched to avoid an eddy or whip around a piece of debris, I woke right back up.
“There he is.” I tapped Briff’s back as I muttered into the comm. “I’m going to have the Word teleport us directly to my quarters.”
“Oh, thank…well, the Word, I guess. So tired of flying.” Briff relaxed and just coasted through space as he waited for me to enact the teleport.
A moment later we appeared in my quarters, and I staggered over to the bed to collapse atop the sheets. I couldn’t ever remember being this tired…except the last time I’d come back to my quarters, like four years ago.
Briff pulled himself into a corner, and promptly began snoring. I planned to do the same, and after confirming Miri wasn’t in my bed I shimmied under the covers.
Beep. Beep. Beep. An incoming missive flashed on my HUD. It was from Bortel. I put it on, cognizant of the fact that my nose was smooshed against my faceplate. “Wazzit? Need sleep.”
“Apologies for interrupting you, Captain, but we have a dire emergency.” Bortel’s tone remained calm, but the words shook me from my exhaustion and I flipped to my feet to hear his next words. “Necrotis has made her move. She’s attacked the Yantharan system. We are at least three days away via the Depths, which means there’s no way we can reach the battle before it’s over.”
“Unless we translocate somehow.” I drummed my fingers along the bed as I shoved down the exhaustion. “There has to be a way to get us there in time to make a difference.” I needed more brain power. “Guardian, missive Visala, Lady Voria, Pickus, and Xal’Nara, please.”
Oh, boy. I was about to be talking with some of the most powerful people in the sector during a time when most of them were trying to focus on combat. Was this the right move? I hoped so. I needed a way to get the Word into battle, or if we lost today it would be my fault. My fault for wasting time here rather than being where I needed to be. My eradicator training hadn’t amounted to much. I had to ensure i
t didn’t cost our allies.
A moment later faces began appearing on my HUD. Visala’s leathery frown first, then Voria’s concerned expression, then Nara. No sign of Pickus, so I plunged into the problem.
“I’m sorry to bother you guys, but I’ve just returned to the Word and have been apprised of the situation. If Necrotis is hitting Yanthara my place is there, but I can’t think of a way to get there faster than three days in the Depths. Can you think of a way to translocate this entire ship? I keep hearing it’s possible for Great Ships to do that.”
Ardaki abruptly appeared in my left hand, and he spoke directly into my mind. That you would forget to include me in a council of this import shouldn’t surprise me. I have forgotten more of magic than these godlings will ever know. Translocating this vessel is a large part of why I exist.
“Uh.” I glanced up at the staff. “Apparently Ardaki has an idea.” I waited for him to speak again, then related his words to everyone on the missive. “This ship can translocate, but it requires a full god to power the ability. I can’t do it. I don’t think anyone currently on Nebiat is qualified. We’d need someone like Voria.”
“I’m spoken for.” Tension thickened her voice, and she kept glancing over one shoulder as if monitoring something vital. “Frit has bought us a little time. She’s posturing with Necrotis and there is a possibility of a duel. Her forces are pulling back, and it’s a good thing. Our fleets have been savaged. Theirs have as well, but that’s slim comfort. We are winning this battle, but by the absolute narrowest of margins. Would that Yanthara had more sense of self-preservation. The Earthmother’s Bulwark could have turned the tide.”
“Maybe I can still do that.” More drumming from my fingers. “Nara, you’re on good terms with Frit, right? Could you come to Nebiat, and power the translocate?”
Nara shook her head sadly. “Demons are forbidden in the Yantharan system, or I’d already be there. I could translocate the ship, but I’d have to go with it, which means breaking Yantharan law. Crewes could get in a lot of trouble.”
