by J. N. Chaney
“That’s the spirit.” Samuel gestured to the galley with his mug. “Off you go. Fuel up and then come back here. I think we’re in for a long day.”
Mol appeared, looking as if she had just struggled to break away from her bed. “Morning, Captain. Need anything? I’m all in for the French toast today.”
“See, Stellers? She understands how we fight. I’m good, but thank you. Take Stellers with you and make sure he eats,” Samuel said.
“Aye, sir. To the gills with food,” Mol said, turning and waving Thorn to follow.
“Does my heart good to see this kind of preparation,” the captain said.
“French toast?” Thorn asked.
Mol smiled, leading the way. “We’re not animals, Specialist. We just fight that way.”
Kira sat at her desk, tapping the comms, checking compulsively for a message indicator that she knew wouldn’t be there.
Where are you, Thorn? Something was wrong, and it went beyond simple intuition. It was a visceral sense—maybe her first true hint at becoming more than just a Joiner.
The door swung inward, and she jumped to her feet in a defensive reaction. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing barging in here like this?”
She saw the specialist ranks on their uniforms—Starcasters, but it took her a moment to identify the faces as two of Thorn’s classmates. “What is it? Is Thorn alright?”
Val stood at attention and addressed her. “Lieutenant Wixcombe. Thorn is alright. But we need to speak with you and the other officers, highest priority. Can you meet us in the Commander’s quarters?” Rodie’s face was a mask of tension, but he said nothing.
Kira stood without hesitation as the sense of foreboding within her spiked. “I can and will.” She lifted her voice to the room AI. “Officer’s channel alert. To Commander’s office, double time.”
Seconds later, Kira, Val, and Rodie were silently waved forward as Schrader placed a small, silver disc on the floor of his office. He motioned for silence, tapped the disc with one foot, and waited. A small light pulsed green on the device.
“We’re clear. Speak freely and with urgency, Specialists. What is it?” Schrader said without preamble.
“Sir, can the Nyctus—” Val began, but Kira pointed to the disc.
“Scrambler. Makes a hash of anything, and even if the Nyctus could penetrate this deep into our collective presence, they’d be damned fools to do it. Taking on this many senior ’casters is a short trip toward cooking off your nervous system, even for those ruthless bastards.”
Kira felt a flood of relief, even as she stood, listening to Rodie and Val speak. Her flare of anger faded as it became clear that sending two newbie officers was, in fact, the right move.
“Sir, the Apollo is on standby, and Captain Samuel has already begun moving assets into position. To be blunt, the Nyctus are massed for an attack like we’ve not seen in some time,” Val said.
“He’s sending them to buy time,” Schrader said, and Ashworth gave a grim nod of agreement. The base commander stood up quickly, pointing to the door. “Time we don’t have. We go through the base, with the scrambler. Word of mouth only. Go-bag and weapons, nothing more. Doubletime, starting now.”
Rodie carried the scrambler with them as they moved through the camp, informing soldiers and enacting evacuation protocols. The hum of shock turned to furious activity as Val, Schrader, and Rodie made their way through the troops—Ashworth and the other officers were dispatched to begin similar preparations, as well as round up any additional arms that could be had. Despite arriving early, the general chaos of an evacuation took up the extra time, and when the hangar was filled with shuffling, nervous troops, the time for Captain Leblanc’s shading distraction was getting close to hand.
“There are stores onboard the carrier, but not much,” Kira said. “Let’s hope she breaks orbit clean. The nearest resupply is three days out.”
“We won’t need three days. We’re not going far, and we’re not waiting around. Move out,” Schrader said, lifting his voice. He turned to address Val and Rodie once everyone began loading onto their designated ships. The hangar was a seething mass of people and gear, despite being executed on short notice. “You’ll take the third fighter—Wixcombe and Narvez are in unit two, and Hiroshi is paired with Burnitz in the other. I want comm silence until we’re clear of the system. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Val answered.
“Good. These fighters punch way above their weight, and we can’t lose them if we have to form a convoy to jump systems. If you get in trouble, let us handle it. For a carrier, the Hippogryph has damned fine railguns and enough mounts to cause some trouble, but her fighter wing is undergoing refit. We’ve got ’casters of some strength on hand, and we’ll use our power to clear a path, so when I tell you to keep the fighters close, I mean it. Saddle up. Let’s go,” Schrader said, turning away to bark orders at a pair of recruits carrying a sled loaded with fuel canisters.
Val and Rodie jumped into one of the three fighter ships on base. They didn’t have need for many at Code Nebula, since it was highly classified and the risk factor for engagement was low. Hiroshi piloted another with the ginger-bearded Burnitz in the gunner seat. Kira controlled the third with Narvez to her side. The three ships flanked the carrier above and to each side as they blasted through the atmosphere, shredding clouds with a bowshock until they reached the blackness of space.
“Lieutenant Narvez,” Kira said in their fighter, keeping her eyes on the skies. “I appreciate you being in the chair.”
“Constance.” Narvez’s profile created a black shadow against the light of the system’s sun. “My name is Constance.”
Kira peeled her eyes from the route and looked at Narvez, grinning. “Constance. I never took you for a Constance.”
The deep frown that usually scored her face lessened. “I wanted to hear somebody call me by my given name before—whatever is going to happen, happens. So, I’m Constance, although Connie works too.”
Narvez only had time for a glance—a matte black shape hurtling toward them at killing speed—before the fighter rocked sideways with the impact. A searing light erupted, but she pulled hard on the stick, away from the carrier’s looming bulk.
“No—hell no. My stick,” Kira barked, holding on as the cabin bucked. “Control wing is torched. Missile strike or a KEW.” She pulled hard at the stick again, leaving the massive carrier behind them. “Connie, target that ship. Now.”
“Got them,” Narvez said, taking the weapons control into her hands. She spoke directives to the targeting software, augmenting the AI that was already tracking the Nyctus craft, which burned hard to affect an escape. Without atmosphere, her casting powers were useless except for any harnessed energy she may have, and that might not be enough.
A missile would have to do. Sometimes, you had to kill Nyctus the old-fashioned way.
“Bird’s away,” Narvez said, as the fighter shuddered. A silver line of plasma led her eyes as the missile accelerated almost too fast for the eye to follow. In seconds, the missile punched clean through the Nyctus drive, causing a catastrophic implosion. Seven more Nyctus ships broke out of pluslight, their drives lighting up the scanner.
“Escorts, are you seeing this? Eight hot, minus one—shit, they’re targeting the Hippogryph. To the carrier at maximum drive. If you’ve got a spell loaded, this is the time to cook it off. They’re under the—”
The second Nyctus ship blossomed into a ball of expanding gas, and now Hiroshi’s voice came over the comms. “They are vulnerable to our magic. Target what you can. The carrier is opening up gun mounts,” Hiroshi said in calm tones.
“Copy that.” Narvez touched off a second missile, the bird missing, but detonating due to a proximity fuse that sent another Nyctus ship into a wild curve, wobbling and leaking gases. “Can you reach them?”
“I can now,” Kira said, vocalizing the autocannon for a thirty-round burst. The shells turned the spinning enemy into hot debris
, but not before the remaining Nyctus began to rake the Hippogryph with something that looked like a railgun, but far wider at the barrel end.
Sparks and fires erupted along the big carrier’s port side, and then her mounts began blazing away with so many small point-defense guns that space seemed to ripple. One, then two of the Nyctus exploded, one going on to tear a ten meter gash in the port landing bay, sending looping arcs of coolant into space as a snowstorm of red flakes.
“They’re…trying to break me,” Narvez said, clutching her head as an unseen Nyctus shaman invaded her mind.
Kira didn’t hesitate. She pulled a kill switch on Narvez’s controls and steered directly at the nearest enemy, a silent howl of pain in her skull at the Nyctus hammered at her psyche with wave after wave of probing telepathic hatred. She flickered in and out of reality, looking deep into the minds of any Nyctus that wasn’t buttoned up against a counterattack.
She found one.
Like a cracking dam, Kira flooded the space, sending the Nyctus into just enough of a panic to buy her time for another pass. The engine howled as their fighter turned, every screen a wild cacophony of dire warnings. The Nyctus were spiraling closer to the carrier, soundless weapons lancing out to chew at the big ship’s armor.
“They’re using KEW shit up close. Smaller versions,” Kira said.
“Gotta pick off the—” Narvez began, but choked on her words as Hiroshi and Burnitz turned directly into a fusillade of KEW strikes flying at impossible velocities. Their fighter was torn into shrapnel and then faded behind them as they completed their turn.
One Nyctus remained—the one that killed Hiroshi and Burnitz.
“Connie,” Kira said, eyes bleak and hot with anger, “turn them into vapor.”
A pair of missiles flickered out, slamming into the fleeing Nyctus ship. The enemy died, even as another alarm began shrieking in their fighter, and then Kira hit the override and all was silent once more.
“Rodie, you clear?” Kira asked.
No answer.
“They’re flying right there—hey— no, no no—” Kira said, voice rising in desperation.
“Are they compromised?” Narvez asked. “Sure looks like it.”
“Val! Rodie! Answer me, or we will fire!” Kira barked, but the other fighter only banked harder, right toward the belly of the carrier.
“I can’t kill a student,” Narvez said. “And there’s no way of knowing—”
A single missile lanced out from Val and Rodie’s ship. In less than a second, it drove deep into the carrier’s steel heart, exploded, and tore the massive ship in two.
“No—” Kira muttered into the dark. The Hippogryph began to implode, section by section, lighting up Val and Rodie’s ship in bright relief. “I have no choice. I have to take them out.”
“No you don’t,” Narvez said. “Look.”
A Nyctus battleship bathed them in scanners, but it was the spike of pain from their shaman’s that made Kira pull the stick hard as she kicked them to full power. With a barrage of KEW, the Nyctus turned Val and Rodie into a flare and then nothing at all.
“Time to go,” Kira said, flashing away like a frightened animal who’s seen the hunter’s weapon.
“Are they all gone?” Narvez asked, her voice weak. She sat, numb, watching the display. The Nyctus weren’t following them.
“Too small to matter,” Kira said, answering the unspoken question.
“Where are we heading?” Narvez asked.
Kira said nothing but set a course and took her hands off the controls, studiously looking away from the screens. “Wherever we can, Connie. We’re on our own.”
15
“Stellers, you’ll want to see this.”
The captain stood, hands clasped behind him as scenes of battle played out on three walls of the bridge.
“Sir? Where is this?’ Thorn asked.
“Everywhere,” Samuel said. He sounded tired, but his eyes were hardened to a focus that had weight. “Every system we’ve deployed to is under attack. Parker, send live footage to all screens as of now; Estgaard, if you please.”
The view shifted immediately, revealing a fleet of Nyctus ships, their dark hulls slipping through the inner rings of a massive green world surrounded by rings.
“Estgaard? That’s—it’s a lot closer than I expected, sir. For this point in the battle,” Thorn added.
“The Nyctus changed doctrine. Watch,” Samuel said.
Two enemy battleships bracketed a heavy cruiser, her point defense systems blazing away in a standoff action. On an unseen signal, the Nyctus ships belched KEW’s in a wave, nearly fifty shots hurtling toward the human ship—the Queen Nzinga, Thorn recalled—without any fear of friendly fire. The Nzinga began to blossom fiery outgassing as her shields went down, then a second wave of enemy fire blasted her center apart in a nova-like explosion.
“Captain, look,” Thorn said, pointing behind the expanding cloud that had been four hundred souls only seconds earlier.
The second Nyctus battlewagon had taken heavy damage from her sister ship. A huge venting of gas and fuel ignited, collapsed, and blew four sections of the ship into space, the shimmering cloud of debris glittering like freshly fallen snow in a stiff wind.
“They’re on suicide runs, sir?” Sleuth asked, his face a mask of horror.
“I don’t think so. It looks like they’re willing to take some damage to open up a system. We don’t know of a drone craft that large, so it’s got to be crewed,” Samuel said. “Enlarge the aft view, please. There—see it?”
Thorn did. There were bodies jettisoned from the ship, some whole, some in pieces, their segmented hardsuits gleaming from the detonations and internal fires onboard the wounded Nyctus vessel. “That’s the first I’ve seen of them.”
“Who, the enemy?” Captain Samuel asked, brows lifting.
“Yes, sir. I mean, we were shown hard data at Code Nebula, and as a kid I saw the vids. But still, not like this.” As Thorn spoke, a Nyctus suit was torn apart by a flying piece of jetsam, the stolid alien cut nearly in two. Its guts trailed away like a ribbon, then it was incinerated by an errant laser. The large, long head was left behind, spinning lazily, cut off from the ashes of its body.
“An engineer, and likely a female, given her size. Good riddance. Their engineers pull double duty as spellcasters when they’re in large scale assaults,” Sleuth piped. “Um, sir. Sorry.”
“No apology needed. We’re here to do the same thing they’re trying to do to us. If we see it happen on a small scale, it doesn’t change the outcome,” Captain Samuel said. “Enlarge scene three, please.”
The images, sent by a drone sitting at a safe distance from the battle, were crisp enough that Thorn could see a squadron of ON fighters wheeling away from a crippled Nyctus frigate. As the human pilots turned in unison, the fourth fighter broke hard right and began unleashing every weapon it had.
The shots—missiles and railgun—struck two ON craft, shredding both before they imploded into violent clouds of gas.
“Sir, one of our fighters has gone rogue. It’s—” Sleuth sounded stricken, his fingers flying as he worked to draw the images even closer without losing resolution. The rogue vanished in a ball of plasma as a Nyctus corvette sent three KEW’s in a killing salvo, each rock nearly a hundred kilos in weight. “He’s gone, sir. And the Nyctus corvette is damaged. Two fighters closing in, sir.”
“Good hunting,” Samuel said, then he gave a terse nod as two missiles thundered into the corvette, cracking her open along the keel. “Damned fine shooting. Still doesn’t explain why that fighter went—“
“Captain, I have incoming comms from multiple assault groups.” The speaker was a Petty Officer named Benton, her dark hair tucked up under a headset keyed to multiple comm channels.
“Give it to me quick and dirty. Any of them pushing back?” Samuels asked.
“Plenty, sir. I make…eight of thirteen on the advance, or holding positions. Three are not responding to a
ny contact at all, and two groups—both around that binary system at Epsilon 2470—are now engaged in point-blank action due to massive magical interference from the Nyctus. Our ’casters are holding them—one moment, sir.” Benton nodded, listening, then her lips pressed into a thin line. “Sending to your private comms. Captains Herlich and Kumatso are presumed lost, along with all hands. There are three surviving craft from the entire system. Epsilon is in Nyctus hands, sir.”
“That’s how fast it happens,” Samuels said softly.
“Unger,” Thorn said.
“Someone from your class?” Samuel asked. He touched Thorn’s shoulder.
“Yes, sir. He was with Captain Herlich, I think.”
“They all died on the ground. The fight went planetside, according to what I’m seeing. Nasty business. Thorn, this is going to happen a lot more. Are you ready? For what comes next?”
“I am, sir,” Thorn answered. He might never be ready to die, but he was damned sure ready to fight.
“Go clear your head. We’ll be engaged soon enough, if this thing gets out of hand. That’s an order,” Samuel said, nudging Thorn away from the buzz of voices as reports continued to stream in.
“I will, sir.” Thorn stepped away, eyes down. There was nothing else to do.
Except for one small detail.
Kira.
The witchport seemed less ominous as he sat, legs crossed and staring into the inky expanse of space. He considered Kira’s feel, and the shape of her mind, and then—
Thorn. I’m here.
It worked! Thorn’s words rang with triumph in his own head. Too loud?
Hell, no. I’m stunned we can connect at this range, but it must be—well, it’s us, I think.
Good. Kira, are you alright?
He felt her sigh more than heard it. Physically, I’m fine. Her thoughts cracked and then steadied. I couldn’t stop them, Thorn. I couldn’t save them.
Who?
Val. Rodie. Barnett. So many. All gone. Commander Schrader didn’t get to issue orders, but he had a deadman’s switch set up for a databurst. They knew where we were, Thorn, and I don’t know how. One of the Nyctus turned Val, and it was her fighter that took out the carrier—not the Nyctus, not really, Kira sent. Her words were colored with naked fear. If the Nyctus could hijack ’casters, then—
