The Sanctum of the Sphere: The Benevolence Archives, Vol. 2

by Luther M. Siler

  The force shield holding the atmosphere inside the dock began to flicker.

  “Fuck. They hit the emitter. Fuck. Namey, get ready to fucking go.” Brazel said. He could see the ship starting to power up across the hangar.

  A few blasts ricocheted off the wall near them.

  “We’re spotted,” Grond said, hitting the floor. It looked as if the mercenaries were starting to fan out, having dealt with the first group of Malevolence forces.

  “Namey, start shooting. Target priorities are anything that isn’t us or the elf. Go.”

  The Nameless opened fire with his exterior guns. He took three of the mercenaries out immediately, but drew the attention of several more.

  “Braze, you deal with the ones coming for us,” Grond said. “I’m gonna go beat up the rest of them before they beat up my ship.”

  “On it,” Brazel said. Grond turned and tossed him the gun he’d taken from the dwarf.

  “You sure? Unarmed?”

  “Sure,” Grond said. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Great last words,” Brazel said, and fired a couple of shots.

  “Don’t waste those,” Grond said. “I dunno how much ammo you’ve got.”

  “More than you,” the gnome snapped. “Git!”

  The gnome popped out of cover and began firing. Grond crouched as low as he could and sprinted for the Nameless. The ship was taking potshots at mercenaries whenever they presented themselves, but wasn’t getting many hits.

  However, being fired at by a ship proved to be incredibly distracting. Grond hit the first of three nearby mercenaries at full speed, lifting the man off his feet and hurling him at one of his partners. The two went down in a heap, giving Grond just enough time to snatch a rifle from the hands of the third. He smashed the stock of the weapon into the man’s face, knocking him unconscious.

  The force shield flickered again. Grond felt a slight breeze as some of the air inside the dock was lost to the void. He looked around for more mercenaries to shoot. There was one taking cover by a ship nearby. He fired at him and the man dropped, either hit or trying to stay clear. A handful of others were trading shots with Brazel and several more were still clustered by the emitter that had been damaged in the explosion.

  Crossfire, Grond thought, and opened fire on Brazel’s targets. He hit one of them in the shoulder, taking him out of the fight, and the others withdrew. The mercenary near him fired at him again, grazing his side, and Grond turned to fire back. His shots went wide, thudding into the side of the boat the man was using as cover.

  Fucking cheap guns. Grond glared at the rifle and circled around the back of the Nameless. Within a few moments he had a clear path to the mercenary, who was still looking back at where he had been, occasionally taking a wild shot to see if he could coax the halfogre out of hiding.

  Grond heard movement behind him, rolling out of the way just before the shooting started. Most of the blasts hit the floor near where he’d been crouching, but several flew past toward the mercenary he’d been stalking, who thought he was being shot at and returned fire.

  Three shots from Grond’s rifle sent both of them back down to the floor, and the halfogre scrambled back to his feet and charged. The first one popped out of cover a moment too late to shoot, as Grond leapt over the cargo crates he was using as cover, knocking him to the floor. Grond wrapped a hand around the mercenary’s neck and slammed his head into the ground, breaking his neck with a loud crack. He looked around for the second mercenary, who had fled. The man was nowhere to be found.

  “Braze, any idea how many more?” he subcommed.

  “Half a dozen, plus the ones who are already out of the hangar? Not sure,” the gnome answered. “I haven’t–oh, wow.”

  Wow? “Wow what?”

  Grond heard screams from across the hangar. The air had been full of the sounds of combat–shouts, explosions, bangs, the occasional grunt of pain–but these were actual screams, of men in pain or terror. He spent a moment calculating the odds and stood up to take a look.

  Asper had returned. The elf was cutting a path through the mercenaries effortlessly, a blade in each hand, not bothering with ranged weapons at all. Xe was moving practically too fast for Grond to see, and every swing of xir arms took a body part from one of the mercenaries. Asper carved xir way through four of them as Grond watched, casually incinerating a fifth with a close-range energy blast when one of xir blades got stuck in a piece of cheap merc armor.

  The emitter failed again, the force shield blinking for half a second or so. The loss of atmosphere this time was noticeable. Alarm klaxons began sounding.

  “Get back to the ship, right now,” Grond subcommed. Then, shouting: “ASPER! LET’S GO!”

  Asper had one mercenary left. He was firing wildly, clearly panicking, and Asper was able to slide past his shots with what looked like no effort at all. Xe slammed the side of xir hand into his throat, crushing his trachea. He fell, choking. The elf looked around, spotting Grond, and sprinted toward the Nameless. The ship obligingly opened the front airlock, allowing the three of them inside.

  “If the emitter fails again, the dock will seal itself against the atmosphere loss,” Asper said.

  A second alarm began sounding. This one was faster and more high-pitched than the first.

  “The hell is that?” Grond asked.

  “That’s the tunnelspace alarm,” Asper said. “We’ve got a minute to get clear of Roashan before it jumps.”

  “Namey, go,” Brazel shouted.

  Grond felt the ship lift off the ground. “Come with me,” he told Asper, heading for his quarters. “Too bad we don’t have a gunner’s seat.” They’d never had reason to accommodate a third crew member.

  He settled into his chair just as the ship cleared the force shield and leapt into heavy acceleration, pushing him back into the gel-cushioned seat as he buckled himself in. He looked around for Asper, intending to direct xir to a crash couch, only to see the elf sitting cross-legged on the floor mumbling to xirself. The g-forces appeared to not be a problem.

  ‘Kay, he thought.

  “Anybody else out there for us to shoot at?” he said.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Brazel answered. “Namey, you said two merc groups?”

  CORRECT. EACH LANDED AT A SEPARATE HANGAR. I ASSUME THE OTHER IS BEING DEALT WITH AS WE SPEAK. The acceleration continued, the distance between the Nameless and Roashan increasing by the moment.

  SENSORS DETECT NO OTHER HOSTILE SHIPS WITHIN RANGE, Namey said. SEVERAL OTHERS ESCAPED ROASHAN FROM OTHER HANGARS. THEY ARE ALL ALSO ACHIEVING MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE AND NONE HAVE PAID ANY ATTENTION TO US.

  “Ignore ‘em,” Brazel said. “Anybody starts acting funny, let us know.”

  SHIPS ARE RARELY FUNNY, Namey said.

  “AIs even less frequently,” Brazel snapped. “Just do it.”

  Grond swiveled his viewscreen to the Nameless’ aft view. Roashan was already moving–luckily, away from them. As he watched, the station disappeared from view, folding itself into tunnelspace. The slight shockwave from the entrance slapped one ship aside that hadn’t gotten to safe distance fast enough. He magnified the view. The ship looked to have taken minimal damage. They’d gotten lucky. Getting caught too close to a large object moving into tunnelspace could be extremely dangerous.

  “We’re clear,” he said.

  “Clear,” Brazel agreed.

  “So now what?” Grond asked, unbuckling himself from his chair. He looked over at Asper. We’ll have to get xir set up to subcomm with the ship, he thought.

  “We find Remember,” Asper said. “Or wait for her to find us.”

  Seventeen

  Rhundi pushed the buzzer for Irtuus-bon’s new suite, thinking back to the first time she’d gone to visit the troll in his previous accommodations. She’d nearly had to break in. She’d made sure the new door had a manual override in case Irtuus-bon decided to try and get cute with his security settings again.

  The door slid open, granting h
er entry. She noted with some satisfaction that the troll appeared to have actually used his sitting room for something other than a hallway or garbage dump. Some of the furniture even looked like it had been sat on recently.

  The troll called out from a back room. “What do you want? I am very busy.”

  “You’re always busy,” Rhundi said, walking into his command center. “It’s why I hired you.”

  “Which brings me back to my question,” he said, his back to the door. “I am monitoring a developing war on a moon across the galaxy and attempting to break through Benevolence encryption at the same time. It is … taxing.”

  “It’s about to get worse,” she said. “Pack.”

  The troll froze in position, then turned around, his form and size wobbling as he did so. Rhundi smirked. She’d never seen the troll not sure what size to be before.

  “No. No. Explain yourself,” Irtuus-bon said.

  “First, I don’t have to explain, I’m your boss,” she said. “But I will. Haakoro may have escaped already, and he’s certainly trying to. We haven’t found him yet. And I have to assume that Benevolence, or at least their allies, may be on the way. Which means two things: first, I need to get my kids off of Arradon, and second, I need to get my troll off of Arradon. You’re too important to let you get caught, and my kids are more important than you. So you’re fleeing. Or babysitting. Take your pick.”

  The troll collapsed into Sirrys’ short, squat shape, then without speaking made an effort and grew back to full size again.

  “And everyone else?” he said. “There are many innocents here.”

  “The resort’s about to develop a massive problem with the plumbing, I think,” she said. “I don’t even want to think about the lost revenue. But I’d rather have that than a lot of dead people. Brazel and Grond are just going to have to work harder.”

  “How much time do I have?” he asked.

  Amazing, she thought. She had thought the troll was going to fight the idea of leaving his lair much harder than this.

  “You get three hundred kilos of equipment,” she said. “We’ll figure a way to get everything set up. I’ll have people by soon to help you move everything. Two hours.”

  The troll nodded. “I will be ready. Is anyone else accompanying us?”

  “A small security contingent,” she said. “But not many. I can’t spare a lot, and it’s best if you’re on a smaller, faster ship anyway. Farther away you are when they get here, the better.”

  “I will be ready,” Irtuus-bon repeated.

  “Thank you,” she said. “My kids are depending on you, Irtuus-bon. Don’t fail them.”

  The troll turned away, arms stretching out to begin disconnecting equipment. Rhundi left.

  As she exited, she opened a comm channel.

  “I need Darsi in my office.”

  She stopped dead in the hallway.

  “Yes, now. When have I ever asked for my daughter to be pulled out of class and didn’t need it to be right away? She needs to be there in five minutes. Tell her to hustle.”

  Idiots, she thought.

  Her oldest daughter was waiting for her when she returned to her office. Rhundi took a moment to look the girl over before saying anything. Darsi was nearly an adult. She looked like a slightly shorter, more slender version of her mother. She had outgrown her father a few years ago. She had several patches of fur on her arms and legs shaved to the skin, following current adolescent gnomish fashion, a development her mother had never understood. Darsi’s uncovered skin was pale blue. Rhundi didn’t even know what the color of her own skin was.

  “So what’s wrong with Dad?” Darsi asked.

  Rhundi suppressed a smile and raised an eyebrow instead. “What makes you think your father has done anything?”

  Darsi snorted. “The last time you had me pulled out of class Dad was in prison and you thought Grond was dead. I’m the only one here, so it can’t be anything too awful or you’d have everyone. At least Nichol and Hazel.” Nichol was their firstborn son, Hazel their second daughter.

  Rhundi nodded. “Good. You’re thinking. Keep it that way.” She pressed a hidden catch on the wall, causing a panel to slide aside, revealing a safe. She put one hand on the biosensor and keyed in a passcode with the other and the safe opened. She took an energy pistol in a holster out of the safe and handed it to Darsi.

  Her daughter’s eyes widened. “This can’t be good.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with your father,” Rhundi said. “Or with Grond, either, before you ask. But there may be some trouble heading our way, and I need Irtuus-bon and you guys off the planet before it gets here.”

  “You’re leaving us with the troll?”

  “Not quite. I’m leaving the troll with you,” Rhundi said. “You’re more level-headed than he is and you’re much more reliable in a pinch than him. He thinks he’s going along to protect you. I’m actually a little disappointed he agreed to do it so quickly. I was planning to cry if I needed to.”

  Darsi laughed. “You? He’d have seen through that.”

  “Irtuus-bon is brilliant in a lot of ways, but people are not one of them,” she said. “He’d have been so uncomfortable that I was crying that he’d have agreed to anything to get me to stop. But that’s not the point. Your dad and I may be … unavailable for a while. And I need you all safe, and I need the troll kept safe. Let him think he’s making decisions if you need to, but you are in charge. I’m actually going to give you a contract that says that if you need it. Irtuus-bon loves contracts. He’ll accept it.”

  “Is … is it just us?” she asked. “No pilot? That’s a lot of responsibility.”

  “I’m sending a small security team with you. Gorrim’s staying here to run the resort, but you’ll have a pilot and a few bruisers along for … well, hopefully for nothing. But you’ll have them.”

  A sneaky grin appeared on Darsi’s face. “Can Krin be on the team?”

  Rhundi sighed. Krin was several years older than Darsi and the girl had had eyes for him since before she was old enough to have eyes for anyone. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “I haven’t picked the team yet. Go collect everybody else and meet Irtuus-bon and I at the hangar in two hours. Pack enough clothes for a week or two. Have a few of the goblins help the little ones pack if you need to. Grab a few of the Corvix clan, they’re generally trustworthy.”

  “Are you sure we don’t have anything to worry about?” Darsi asked.

  Rhundi reached out and stroked her daughter’s face, then ran a hand through her fur. “We always have something to worry about. It’s the nature of how your father and I have decided to live our lives. But this is no worse than anything else right now. Just keep your brothers and sisters safe, and keep the troll from doing anything too stupid. You can handle this.”

  Truth be told, Darsi would likely be full partners with her, Brazel and Grond in just a few short years. She was, at times, almost frighteningly competent for an adolescent. The girl nodded, buckling on the gun.

  “Okay, Mom. We’ll be fine.”

  Rhundi waved her off and Darsi left to start packing.

  Eighteen

  “I’d like to point out that as of right now we still remain unpaid,” Brazel said.

  “You’re not starving,” Grond answered. The two of them were sitting in the Nameless’ common room, sharing a meal and killing time while the Nameless idly jumped around in tunnelspace. Flying to nowhere in particular had turned out to be more complicated than they’d thought. “We’ve got supplies and fuel for weeks and nothing special that we need to be doing. No one has shot at us in almost an entire day. Things have been a lot worse.”

  “That’s the life I’ve always wanted,” Brazel said. “Enough material possessions for survival, and conditions just slightly better than the worst things have ever been.”

  Grond scoffed and waved his partner off. They could bait each other endlessly later.

  Grond felt the tell-tale vibration as the ship decelerated
out of tunnelspace.

  HMMM, said the Nameless.

  “Blockship?” he asked.

  “No. That would have been faster, and hurt a lot more,” Brazel reminded him. “AIs aren’t supposed to Hmmm, Namey. What’s going on?”

  LOCAL DISTRESS SIGNAL, Namey responded. I WAS ESTABLISHING DRAMATIC TENSION.

  “What kind of signal?” Brazel asked, heading for the cockpit. Grond headed for his quarters.

  PERSONAL TRANSPORT, SHIELDED BUT UNARMED. STRANDED, BUT LIFE SUPPORT IS STILL ONLINE AND STRONG. THERE APPEARS TO BE A SINGLE LIFEFORM ON BOARD THE SHIP.

  “What’s wrong with the engines?”

  BLOWN.

  “Deliberately?”

  DIFFICULT TO SAY AT THIS DISTANCE. WE ARE FIFTY THOUSAND KILOMETERS FROM THE SIGNAL. THERE IS NO INFORMATION AS TO THE CAUSE OF THE MALFUNCTION IN THE DISTRESS SIGNAL.

  “The ship transmitting any ID?”

  NO, Namey responded.

  “Odd,” Brazel murmured. Distress calls were fairly standard across species, most sentients not being terribly picky about who helped them out when they were close to dying, but generally they included at least basic identification along with the distress codes.

  “Anything else in the call I need to know about right now? And don’t hold anything back to make it more interesting when you tell me later.”

  IT IS A SURPRISINGLY LACONIC DISTRESS CALL, the boat agreed.

  “You understand that we’re going to be discussing your idea of dramatic tension in the near future, by the way?”

  IT’S GROND’S FAULT, the ship replied.

  “It’s no such thing,” Grond retorted from the copilot’s chair. “You programmed the boat. I didn’t. We’ve discussed this.”

  “Whatever, get us closer,” Brazel said. “If whoever this is is in a deep-space capable single-man rig with shields, he’s probably wealthy. We save the wealthy around here.”

  The Nameless drew closer to the derelict ship, and Grond and Brazel watched as Namey gave them a good magnified look at the other ship in their viewscreens. It was indeed a personal transport–a tiny cruiser barely bigger than it needed to be to hold one passenger and its engine. And the engine was indeed blown–gone would be a better word, with only tiny scraps of metal clinging to the back of the ship. The exterior of the ship was painted a nonreflective, matte black color, with no markings or identification to be seen anywhere.