Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “On my way, sir,” he said to Tanner. “If you need me, I’ll be in the Witchport.”

  Kira had almost finished a dark plunge into a bottomless abyss of despair. She could hold out against the squids and their intrusions into her mind pretty much forever, but that was it. All the information she’d managed to gain was, in the end, useless. She was going to die, and it was going to die with her.

  Kira?

  She blinked, then dragged her head up from her chest and looked around. Just her cell. She’d heard nothing, least of all Thorn’s voice—

  Kira!

  She laboriously sat up. It sounded like he’d been right there.

  But he wasn’t, of course. “Hallucinating,” she whispered. “That comes . . . just before the end . . . right?”

  Dammit, Kira, I can feel you there. Answer me!

  Kira’s head snapped up this time.

  Okay, that was not a hallucination.

  It really was Thorn.

  21

  Thorn? Is that really you?

  He could feel the fear, anguish, and despair flowing across the Joining between them, flooding the witchport around him like stale, suffocating air. Thorn shouldered his way through the emotions and focused on Kira.

  It’s me. I’d ask how you are, but—

  Definitely don’t recommend this as a vacation experience.

  He smiled. Kira, look, I just want to—

  Wait. Stop. How do I know it’s really you?

  How? His jaw went tight with frustration. It’s me, Kira, believe me.

  I really want to. But the squids have tricked me before. They lifted my own memories from my mind, then used them against me. That included you.

  Thorn frowned. If she couldn’t simply feel from the Joining that it was him, how could he possibly prove it to her?

  Thorn, tell me the name of the pilot and the AI we flew with.

  What? Mol and Trixie?

  After a moment of hesitation, a flood of relief poured across the Joining. Okay, that’s something I’ve been able to keep from the squids. They’d have no way of knowing that.

  Doubt flickered in Thorn. Could the squids be pulling a fast one on him? Was this really Kira? Even using her severed finger as a focus—which was, he had to admit, supremely weird and grisly—could they be manipulating this whole situation?

  But he dismissed the idea. The Nyctus might be able to use facts, memories of experiences, against them, but he couldn’t believe they could so thoroughly mimic the emotions he felt wafting across the Joining from Kira. Those were just too real.

  Told you, it’s really me.

  There was a long pause. Thorn could tell she was crying. He hesitated to intervene, but this wasn’t just about confirming she was alive.

  He was about to say so, but Kira’s presence suddenly hardened with resolve. Sorry, I’m just— She paused. This has been really bad, Thorn. But how the hell did you even find me?

  Thorn looked at her severed finger, immersed in preservative in a jar. Okay, this is going to sound pretty grim, but I’m looking at your finger right now.

  My—

  Kira?

  Okay, hang on. Just . . . give me a second.

  Thorn waited.

  Alright. Okay. How? How did you—no, wait, never mind. Don’t tell me anything I don’t need to know. Although, how the hell did that happen? What were the odds that you’d end up with it?

  Maybe our fates are intertwined and it was the actions of an invisible hand of destiny drawing us together.

  What? Really?

  No, of course not. Absolutely just a coincidence, Thorn said. Still kind of improbable, but improbable things do happen. For that matter, considering where the Hecate was at the time, the odds probably weren’t even that bad—

  Already told you, don’t tell me anything I don’t absolutely need to know, Thorn. I might have been able to hold the squids out of my mind so far, but I don’t know if I can do it forever.

  Thorn had to nod at the wisdom of that. Moreover, he’d been agonizing over what to tell her about Gillis, since he and Kira had obviously been comrades, part of the same team, but this gave him an out, at least for now.

  There are some things you need to know, Thorn, so just listen.

  Listening.

  Good. He felt her take a deep breath across the miles, then she spoke in his mind, her voice clear, calm—measured. I learned something about my ability. It’s . . . more than I ever imagined. It’s an ocean where I thought it was a pool, and in order to find it, I had to be under duress.

  I’d say this qualifies, Thorn said.

  Kira laughed, a brash sound in Thorn’s mind. You have no idea. I found my power, Thorn. I had to go slow, like crawling, but then it seemed to be more natural. Like I’d always known how, but had to find my path again. Once I did, I could touch the squid minds and jump away, leaving them unaware. They tried to break me, Thorn. They tried and failed. They can’t break me, and they know it.

  Kira, look, I have to get this info to the people who need it. That means I’ve got to leave you for a while.

  I know you do.

  I don’t want to.

  I know you don’t. I don’t want you to, either.

  But—

  You have to. Go. Do what you need to do. I’m not going anywhere. Just make sure of one thing.

  Name it, Thorn said.

  Come back to me.

  I will, he vowed.

  I know that, too.

  Tanner put his hands on his hips and stared at the tactical display that currently depicted a portion of the Zone, straddled by ON space on one side and Nyctus territory on the other. It had been painted with icons representing the situation that Kira had described to Thorn; one cluster of icons, in particular, held the Captain’s attention.

  “How sure are you that this is right?” Tanner asked, eyes still fixed on the chart.

  “Well, Kira—Lieutenant Wixcombe—lifted this from the minds of the squids on the orbital platform where she’s being held and pieced it together,” Thorn replied. “It’s probably not complete, of course, and also probably full of errors about the specifics, but she’s sure that this is what the squids are planning.”

  Tanner rubbed his chin. “Massing a fleet here, apparently to attack across the widest and most open part of the Zone. Doesn’t seem to make sense.” Over his shoulder, he said, “XO, what do you think?”

  Raynaud stepped closer to the screen. “It doesn’t make sense, sir, you’re right. That makes it pretty much the last thing we’d expect them to do.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” Tanner replied. “Just because something isn’t obvious, though, doesn’t make it a good idea.”

  While the others had been speaking, Thorn had been studying the chart, looking for some reason the Nyctus would choose such a risky operation.

  Wait. Risky to them, but they were humans—

  “Sir,” he said. “We need to look at this like the squids would.”

  Tanner gave him a sharp glance. “Squid or human, the basics of military ops are pretty much the same,” he said, but as he finished, his face had already started to show a hint of doubt. “Aren’t they? What are you getting at, Stellers?”

  Thorn stepped up beside the XO. “It’s a long way across the Zone, yes. And if it was us, planning a conventional military op, we’d look at all that empty space as empty space. But it’s not.” He touched a label on the map, expanding it.

  Thunderstorm Nebula.

  “This nebula isn’t very big, but based on these data, it’s pretty dense.” He turned and looked at Tanner. “Lots of dust.”

  That made Tanner take a step forward. “Use the nebula as a staging point, maybe even a sort of FOB. That would put them within a short trans-light flight of . . . what, two of our own FOBs, including Code Gauntlet and a half-dozen heavily populated worlds.”

  “Because they know we’re steering well clear of dust clouds,” Raynaud finished.

  “Or we used to, last t
ime we weren’t a ridiculous amount of light-years from friendly space,” Tanner said. A glimmer of humor colored his tone. “But there’d been nothing to hint at us having a solution to them blinding us with dust, so it’s probably safe to assume we don’t—and that’s what the squids are counting on.”

  “Well, this is amazing information,” Raynaud said. “But we can’t do a damned thing with it. We need to get it to Fleet.”

  She and Tanner both turned to Thorn.

  “Now that I seem to be getting my full powers back, I think I can make that happen, sir, ma’am, yes,” Thorn said, answering the unasked questions.

  “Now how about getting us closer to home?” Tanner asked. “The novelty of being the furthest-traveled ship in history has pretty much worn off.”

  “That’s next on my to-do list, sir, for sure.”

  Stellers, Densmore said, you’re telling me that you’re thousands of light-years away right now?

  Yes, ma’am.

  And that was your doing?

  Yes, ma’am. But I don’t think that’s the most important thing right now—

  No, of course not. The squids and their offensive is. How certain are you that Wixcombe’s info is correct?

  Thorn’s immediate thought was, I trust Kira, of course it’s correct. But that was a purely emotional response. The fact was, he really had no objective way of knowing how accurate the things she’d learned were.

  I don’t know, ma’am. I’m only relaying what Kira told me. I get it, you’re going to want to corroborate this—

  I think we already have.

  Sorry?

  I won’t go into details, but I just attended a briefing that described an unusual increase in signals traffic from that same sector. Fleet intelligence is trying to make sense of it. This new info seems to do just that.

  So, what do you intend to do about it, ma’am?

  I’m not prepared to share detailed plans with you, Stellers, for obvious reasons. But let’s put it this way—if this works out the way I’m starting to think it might, it could change the course of the entire war.

  Thorn turned a strange new thought around in his mind, feeling its unfamiliar shape.

  The war, being over.

  If there’s anything else I can do, ma’am—

  There is, Stellers.

  What’s that?

  Come home. Oh, and try to do it with that shaman you captured still alive. If nothing else, I’d like to finally look one in the face—maybe punch it a few times.

  Gotcha, ma’am. I know exactly how you feel.

  Thorn strode along the detour corridor because of the gaping hole where the infirmary and compartments around it used to be. He’d never really appreciated the clever design that went into warships, and especially the redundancy—the forward crew mess was specifically intended to function as an alternate or supplementary infirmary; there were three parallel corridors running the length of the ship, with abrupt right angles built into them to diminish blast effects that would otherwise propagate along them; power was distributed along four main bus conduits, port and starboard, keel and spine, with all critical systems cabled into at least three of them. It meant that, despite her grievous wound, the Hecate was still essentially ready for battle.

  Unfortunately, that battle was happening a long way away. Thorn could tell that deeply frustrated Tanner. Here it seemed that the ON was about to deliver what could be a knockout blow to a major part of the Nyctus fleet, but his ship was so far from the action they might as well be in a whole separate universe.

  Thorn stopped at a cross corridor and waited as a pair of Ratings wheeled a cart laden with rations, based on the writing on the crates. That was the downside of having the forward mess repurposed into the infirmary; all meals now had to be served in the aft.

  Thorn!

  The psychic shout made him reel back, where he slumped against the bulkhead. He shook his head. One of the Ratings looked at him as they passed, then stopped.

  “Sir, are you alright?”

  Thorn!

  He waved the Rating off.

  Kira?

  Thorn, they found out!

  They what? What’s going on? I was just heading to the witchport to try and contact you. How the hell are you doing this?

  Doesn’t matter! The squids have found out we’ve been talking like this! They’re coming!

  Thorn stiffened, acrid dread surging through him like bile. What do you mean? he asked, a ridiculous question, but he had nothing else.

  The squids—I was probing them again, and I saw it. Somehow, they know we’ve been talking like this. They’re coming to— shit. This . . . this is it, Thorn. They’re going to kill me to stop this.

  Thorn stared at the floor, his body rigid with anger. He was about to experience Kira’s awful, violent death and couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

  He shook his head. No. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “Sir, do you need help?”

  His head snapped up. “Get away from me!”

  The other Rating hit the intercom and shouted for Security. Thorn didn’t have time for that and focused his attention back on Kira.

  Thorn, I—oh. Oh. Okay. I just want to say this. Thorn—

  What?

  Just shut up and hang on.

  I don’t understand! Thorn, they’re almost here.

  Quiet. I need a moment to—just, stay quiet. Stay small. Make your thoughts small, and keep them on me, okay?

  Thorn—!

  He ripped his talisman out of his tunic pocket, squeezed the smooth, worn book, and focused every particle of himself on that union of flesh and cardboard.

  A sudden memory erupted from the point of focus.

  There was a dazzling glare as the KEW thundered out of the sky of Cotswold, about to lay waste to everything that mattered.

  No, Thorn thought. Not again. You don’t get to take Kira from me, too.

  Because—

  Because this is how the universe works.

  Another searing flash enveloped him, just like the impact of that KEW on Cotswold, and once again Thorn was hurled into endless night.

  Thorn blinked. Saw nothing but a smear of wan light.

  Blinked again. That time, there was a shape, blurred but gaining detail. Okay. This is something new.

  He forced his eyes open. The blur resolved into a face. Grimy, bloody, bruised—

  But he recognized it instantly.

  “Kira?”

  It came out as just a hoarse croak, but it was enough to make her eyes flicker open and look into his.

  For a moment, they both just stayed that way, looking into each other’s eyes and trying to make sense of it all.

  Finally, she said, “Thorn?” Her voice was as weak and raspy as his.

  He opened his mouth, but this time nothing came out. He tried to find his voice, but before he could, another one cut him off.

  “Stellers,” Tanner said. “You know the rules about bringing companions aboard my ship without permission.”

  He turned and found himself looking up at the Captain, who was flanked by a pair of ship’s Security. He was still lying in the corridor, flat on the deck; the two Ratings who’d been lugging supplies along the cross corridor just stood, eyes as wide as full moons.

  “Thorn?”

  He turned back to the hoarse whisper.

  “Kira, are you really here?”

  “You tell me,” she said, then swayed with shock and exhaustion. A tear rolled down her cheek, and it could have been from joy or pain. Maybe both.

  “I know exactly how you feel, Lieutenant—Wixcombe, I assume,” Tanner said. “Dealing with Stellers makes me want to cry, too.”

  Kira’s lips curled up, making her wince from a cut. “I’ll cry later. For now, let’s talk about chow.”

  Kira proved to be malnourished and suffering from many injuries from her ordeal, but she was otherwise in surprisingly good shape. Quinn declared her fit enough for light duties, then discha
rged her into an immediate face-to-face meeting with Tanner, Thorn, and the XO in a compartment used for spare-parts storage.

  “Sorry, Wixcombe,” Tanner said, “but until you’re cleared of any security risk at all, you’re banned from the bridge, engineering, fire control—for that matter, most of the ship.”

  She nodded. “Understood, sir.”

  Tanner turned to Thorn. “Okay, Stellers, you have some explaining to do.”

  Thorn nodded, wincing as he did. His extravagant expenditure of magical power had, once more, left him feeling utterly drained. This time, though, he was sure he’d eventually recover.

  “I—” Thorn began, then shook his head and sighed. He owed Tanner the whole truth. “I did something similar to what I did to deflect that rock from Code Gauntlet. I rewrote reality, to make it possible for me to pull Kira—Lieutenant Wixcombe—out of danger. The squids were about to execute her. As to how I did it, I have an idea. I can remember the shape of my spell, sir.”

  Tanner looked at Kira. “That true, Lieutenant? Execution? Imminent?”

  “Yes, sir. The squids somehow figured out I had managed to start eavesdropping on them psychically and were coming to put a stop to it.”

  “What that means, sir,” Thorn went on, “is that I disobeyed a direct order from Captain Densmore to not attempt that again.”

  Tanner turned to Raynaud. “Fetch Captain Densmore for me, would you?”

  The Xo gave him a blank look, her dark eyes inscrutable. “Oh, that’s right, isn’t it?” Tanner said. “She’s not here.” His lip quirked upward. “You don’t work for Captain Densmore, Stellers. You work for me.”

  “I also promised her I wouldn’t do this again.”

  “Okay, that is between you and her,” Tanner said, then narrowed his gaze. “Although, I’m getting the sense there’s more to this than you’re letting on. Is there some sort of implication to what you’ve done here, Stellers? Something that might be bad for this ship?”

  “That’s the trouble, sir,” Thorn replied. “I honestly don’t know. When I deflected that rock, we got very, very lucky. Since everything I did was inside an Alcubierre bubble, it was isolated from the rest of the universe. But this wasn’t. So I don’t know what sort of effects this might have had.”