Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

Several times, she’d had to explain herself to various Code Gauntlet authorities. Fortunately, being a Starcaster, she could simply refer to vague, mysterious reasons related to her ’casting that she needed to be there, and she was generally left alone. The questioners invariably walked away shaking their heads. Whether it was because they felt sorry for Kira, having to waste leave by hanging around an FOB for enigmatic, magical reasons, or just thought she was stupid for going along with it, she didn’t know.

  It didn’t matter, though. The Hecate, which had been delayed a day, was finally here. As she made her way along the broad concourse that ran the length of the base’s orbital docks, she could see the destroyer just a few berths away. Looking through a viewport and seeing her name and registration number emblazoned on her dark grey flank in stark white gave Kira a thrill of anticipation. In a few minutes, she’d see Thorn.

  She slowed. Anticipation, yes. But also dread. After his brief message, the silence was shattered, only to be replaced with questions of her own, left unanswered by the light years between them.

  “Lieutenant Wixcombe!”

  Kira turned to the voice and saw Mol Wyant’s grinning face peering between a burly pair of ON Ratings. Without hesitating, she pushed between them. “Step aside. Top secret mission in place.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” the taller sailor said, touching fingers to brow.

  “Specialist Wyant,” Kira said, smiling. “Good to see you. Gather you’re still assigned to the Hecate?”

  “Good to be seen. And yup, Trixie and I still call the Hecate home.” Kira smiled, genuinely glad to see Mol’s friendly face. It was unusual for a destroyer of the Hecate’s class to carry a Gyrfalcon fighter; it had been a temporary arrangement that became permanent.

  “So what brings you to beautiful Code Gauntlet?” Mol asked. “Last I heard, you were assigned to—the Stiletto, right? Spook ship, stealthed up and away from prying eyes?”

  Kira’s smile widened. She genuinely liked Mol Wyant and would have preferred to use her first name to greet her, were the circumstances not so public. Although she hadn’t seen Mol in months, just a couple of years before she and Thorn had spent many days aboard her Gyrfalcon fighter, waging a covert campaign against the Nyctus.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to space you. You know, rules,” Kira said.

  Mol laughed. “I know you’re joking, but I have carried passengers who tell me that unironically.” Her laughter faded, and she gave Kira a sidelong look. “You are joking, right?”

  Kira made her face grave. “No.” As a hint of alarm crept onto Mol’s face, Kira laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not that spooky—not yet, anyway.” She glanced along the concourse, to the Hecate’s docking port. “No, I’m just taking some leave, so I thought I’d—”

  “Wait,” Mol said. “You’re taking leave—here? At Code Gauntlet? Okay, maybe you’re not spooky, but crazy, yeah. Leave is meant for beaches and such, not a grim shithole like this—”

  Mol suddenly stopped as understanding dawned. “Oh. Okay, I get it. Yeah, he’s still aboard.”

  Kira nodded. Coming from anyone else, it would have been presumptuous enough of a comment to earn a snappy rebuke. Coming from Mol—well, she, Thorn and Kira had spent enough time together aboard the Gyrfalcon, that she considered Mol a friend. So she smiled. “Saw right through me, huh?”

  “Again, Lieutenant—leave at Code Gauntlet? Not hard to see past that.” Mol narrowed her eyes. “Everything okay with you two? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

  “Why? Did Thorn say something to you?”

  “Uh, no. It’s just that you’re not exactly rushing on board the Hecate to see him. Instead, you’re standing here talking to me.”

  Kira was about to brush her comment off, but she stopped and looked around instead. The two hulking Ratings Mol had displaced to get to her were definitely within earshot; she could hear them arguing over money that somebody owed to somebody else. She nodded for Mol to step away from them, closer to the bulkhead.

  “Has the Hecate been involved in any major ops, lately?” Kira asked. “And no, you don’t need to go into details. I’m just wondering if there’s been a lot of stress on the crew, things you guys have to keep under wraps.”

  Mol just shook her head. “Trixie and I haven’t fired a shot in anger in months. Neither has the Hecate. We chased a few suspected Nyctus patrols that turned out to be sensor ghosts, saw a whole lot of stars, and that’s about it. We think of it as a touring vacation, sorta, but on the edge of enemy territory. With the Nyctus having pulled back, flights have been like sitting and watching a bulkhead rust. Why?”

  “Because Thorn’s been totally silent. I’ve tried a few times to reach out to him, using Joining, and I know he’s there, but he won’t answer. I was just wondering if there was something going on that would be, you know, making him do that.”

  “Nothing I’m aware of,” Mol said. “Why don’t you just ask him? Kinda the reason you came here, right?”

  “That’s the plan, yeah,” Kira replied, looking again at the Hecate’s port. “Which means I guess I’d better go find him.”

  “You don’t sound excited about that—which I get. You’re worried what he’s going to say.”

  “Yeah.” Kira sighed. “To be fair, I wasn’t exactly the best communicator before the Vision happened, and I ghosted him a little. Maybe a lot.”

  “I heard about that. Some kind of big psychic shock wave, right?”

  Kira winced in remembrance. “Something like that. Anyway, you put the missile right up the exhaust port—I do need to just go talk to him.” Kira didn’t move right away. She’d come all this way, but these last few steps to the Hecate suddenly seemed like a steep slope she had to climb—one she might just end up tumbling right back down.

  Mol jerked her head at the docking port. “So go do that, ma’am. Or go check out all the luxurious vacation options Code Gauntlet has to offer and forget about it. Hey, I understand they’re serving rice pudding in the mess tonight.”

  “I hate rice pudding,” Kira said, smirking at Mol, then turning and starting for the Hecate. “I’ll see you later, Mol.”

  “I’ll be eating aboard the Hecate tonight, if you need to find me,” Mol replied. “I hate rice pudding, too.”

  Kira stepped through the airlock to find herself face to face with a dour, blank-faced ON Marine standing watch at the Hecate’s hatch. She stopped and identified herself to him, returning his salute.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no personnel are allowed onto or off of the ship without the Captain’s approval,” the man said. He used that flat, clipped tone that seemed to be issued to all Marines at some point during their basic training.

  “Alright, so let the Captain know I’m here,” she said. “I’ll wait.”

  The Marine unclipped a data slate from his belt and scanned it, but he didn’t turn to the intercom. “Sorry, ma’am, but the Captain issued a list of personnel who are eligible to board the ship. His orders are that no one else goes aboard.”

  Kira scowled. “So, if an Admiral walks up to you and wants to see the Captain, he doesn’t get to board?”

  “No, ma’am, he does not. And all due respect, but you’re not an Admiral.”

  Kira felt her cheeks flush in disbelief, stuck between outrage and bewilderment. Ships always had some sort of security on station while docked, but it wasn’t usually this unyielding. Just what the hell was going on? Was this somehow related to Thorn’s dogged silence?

  “Kira?”

  She turned to the voice.

  Thorn stood in the airlock, staring at her with a half-smile, about to disembark the Hecate.

  “Thorn,” she said. His name was enough, just then.

  Thorn shook his head to clear the surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  She was tempted to try Joining right here and now, to see if she could discern something about what was going on with Thorn. But she didn’t. Again, there weren’t many people who cou
ld stop her Joining, if she was determined to do it. But Thorn was definitely one of them—and an attempted magical intrusion into his mind was not the sort of greeting he’d likely appreciate.

  “I’m—” She stopped and glanced at the stone-faced Marine, who was apparently fascinated by something in the distance. Thorn noticed and gestured her into the Hecate. The Marine opened his mouth, but Thorn raised a hand.

  “She’s on my recognizance,” he said, voice crisp with authority.

  The Marine’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but he finally just nodded and turned back to his post.

  Thorn led Kira through the airlock, along one corridor, then another that dead-ended at a closed hatch marked Machinery Space 1674-D.

  “Kira,” Thorn said, suddenly grinning. “What the hell are you doing here? I didn’t see the Stiletto on the docking roster.”

  “She’s not. In fact, she’s four sectors away right now.”

  “Wait—have you been reassigned? So no one’s near Densmore?”

  “Oh, for—Thorn, Densmore isn’t a spy.”

  “Really? You’re sure of that?”

  “As sure as I can be. I mean, anyone could be a spy, right? But, in almost three years, I haven’t seen a thing that suggests to me that she is.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Thorn,” Kira said. “I didn’t come here to talk about Densmore. And no, I haven’t been reassigned off the Stiletto. I’m . . . on leave.”

  “On leave? Where are you heading?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Thorn gave a lopsided grin. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t come to Code Gauntlet on leave—” he started, but his face fell as he understood. “You did come here on leave. Strange choice for a place to unwind.”

  “Thorn, I came to see you. You’ve been refusing to talk to me for weeks now.”

  A shadow passed across Thorn’s face, hinting at some sort of pain, anxiety, or uncertainty—or maybe all of them—that he was deliberately keeping buried. Had he not been the Starcaster she was, she might have tried to suss out something about it with her Joining. But she didn’t and just waited for his reply.

  It took a moment. Kira could see him assembling his thoughts, thinking of how he would answer her, and what his cryptic message had meant.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I know it might not seem like it, but—yeah. It's good that you’re here. This isn’t the moment, but soon.”

  “You’re being evasive, Thorn. What the hell is going on?”

  Thorn shook his head. “I need a moment, myself, just as you have. Where are you quartered?”

  “Transient quarters. Room one-seventeen-delta.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in touch. No matter what, don’t leave.”

  He leaned in, kissed her quickly, then walked away. The kiss was more than casual, and less than intimate. It was a noise, a touch, and then it was over, and the sound of Thorn’s feet faded away, leaving the uncomfortable hum that closed around Kira and her growing sense of abandonment.

  “Bullshit,” she muttered, suddenly angry—but also worried. There was something happening behind those eyes of his, but he was too damned good at hiding.

  Now, more than ever, she needed to talk to Thorn. She had to tell him what she’d come to tell him. But time was no friend of hers, and patience was something she’d run out of. Her greatest fear was the navy getting in their way and eating up the time they had with bullshit that would stop them from coming to a resolution about their past. And their future.

  There was a simple way to deal with that. Kira walked back to the main corridor, but instead of heading back to the airlock, she turned the other way and started deeper into the ship, before that Marine and his icy gaze came looking for her.

  “Help me understand, Lieutenant,” Captain Tanner said. “You want to spend your leave aboard the Hecate.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just to be clear, we are not a cruise ship. We don’t carry passengers.”

  Kira nodded. She’d forgotten how small the Captain’s planning room was; it jammed her uncomfortably close to Tanner, one of the few senior ON officers Kira genuinely respected. And, yes, that respect did lead to a touch of fear. Not of the man, but of letting him down, not meeting his expectations—

  Or asking him what amounted to nothing more or less than a major favor.

  “I understand that, sir. What I’m hoping I can work out is some sort of temporary posting, from the Stiletto to the Hecate.”

  Tanner steepled his fingers and leveled an intense look on Kira. “Far be it from me to balk at getting another trained and experienced officer aboard—an officer whose work I already know, and a Starcaster, at that. But I suspect Captain Densmore will have something to say about it.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m hoping that—” She stopped. She really was asking Tanner for a major favor, one he was under no obligation to even consider.

  “You’re hoping that I’ll contact her and work out a temporary assignment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why?” Tanner leaned back in his chair. “Why the sudden interest in being assigned to my ship?”

  Kira had been making it up as she went along, so she didn’t bother trying to formulate some careful response, and just said what came to her.

  “I need to spend some time with Lieutenant Stellers, sir. I’m worried about him, and well beyond the usual concerns because of his, ah—”

  “Tendency to stay silent, avoid conflict, and move like a wraith unless you pin him down and ask him direct questions?” Tanner offered, thorough and accurate to a fault.

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “Sounds like you want me to abet fraternization, Lieutenant. If you two are that desperate for each other’s company, why not just coordinate your respective leaves?”

  “Sir, this isn’t about fraternization. It’s—” Kira struggled for the right words. “It’s about Thorn—Lieutenant Stellers. He’s closed in on himself. I’ve tried talking to him via Joining, and he refuses. Just now, when I saw him down at the airlock, he didn’t seize the opportunity, so to speak, and that’s a problem for all of us.”

  “All of us?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s more than a simple gun you point at squid, and I think we both know it. This isn’t like having just anyone start suffering from burnout, or whatever’s happening to him. He’s a Starcaster—and a powerful one. Probably the most powerful around, at least right now. Maybe ever. That’s no ordinary weapon. That’s someone who can turn the war, and he can’t do it without being clear with me, not as a fellow officer, but as what—as who—we are, to each other. I know you have reservations about magic in general, sir—hell, I do, and I’m a Joiner. What I’m asking for is the chance to bring him back from this drift. From this place where he might lose his edge at the worst possible time, and all because I didn’t do everything I could to tell him the truth. About me. About his family. And maybe most of all, about the future.”

  Tanner leaned back, his diamond gaze focused on Kira. She knew the man, had worked for him, and respected him immensely. She wanted to go on speaking, to give Tanner the entire picture, but couldn’t. Not before she’d finally had a chance to talk—really talk—to Thorn, anyway.

  The penetrating silence went on. Kira started to deflate. Tanner was going to order her off his ship, tell her to start behaving like an ON officer and not some love-sick schoolgirl, because that’s what she was sure he thought this was about. Kira missed Thorn, desperately needed to talk to him, to be with him—

  Which suddenly seemed so pathetic, even if it was just an outward appearance, that she opened her mouth to withdraw the request, then just be on her way.

  But Tanner spoke first. “I’m going to approve your request, Wixcombe. I’ll contact Captain Densmore and work out the details. She owes me a favor or two, so I’ll call at least one of them in.” He leaned forward. “Temporary assignment, Wixcombe, not permanent. We’ll call it a cross-posting, come up with some operational reason for
it to keep Fleet’s personnel branch happy.”

  Kira blinked. “Oh. I—” She shook her head. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Will there be anything else, Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir,” Kira said, then stopped herself. “Actually, yes, sir, there is. Why did you change your mind?”

  “Don’t normally explain my decisions to subordinates, Wixcombe, unless I think there’s good reason for it.”

  “I understand, sir. But you were going to say no, and then you said yes. All due respect, sir, but I worked for you long enough to know that you don’t do things on a whim. And I know I’m being presumptuous as hell, here—”

  “Lieutenant Stellers is an integral member of my crew,” Tanner cut in. “In many ways, he’s the reason the Hecate has the combat record she does. That’s because he’s a powerful Starcaster, just like you said.” Tanner leaned back again and sighed. “Honestly, I hate it. I hate that magic has become such a fundamental part of how we wage war. Magic is almost impossible to understand. It’s a huge factor in our ops planning, even though not all that long ago it didn’t exist outside of fairy tales. The rules around how it works aren’t clear, and seem to change. War was already a damned messy affair before magic came along, and now it’s a whole lot messier because of it.”

  “Sir, the Nyctus—”

  “Are the reason for it, I know. They use magic, and they’ll kick our asses with it if we don’t out-magic them right back. I get that. I hate it, but I get it, so I just get on with the job.” Tanner rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then sighed. “All this is to say, Wixcombe, that while magic is here, and here to stay, it has made my life a whole lot more difficult. I absolutely rely on Stellers to be my expert on the subject, and to do all the magical things he does to help us win battles. But I agree with you—there’s something wrong with him.”

  “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking—what makes you say that? What have you seen?”

  “Nothing overt. Stellers is continuing to do his job competently and well. But . . . it’s there. You don’t get to command a ship without learning a few things about people along the way. Stellers is starting to show some cracks. Hairline cracks, barely noticeable, but cracks nonetheless. Now, again, I need Stellers, and I need him whole and intact. I can’t use any crew member who can’t do their job, and that’s doubly true for my Starcaster. If he finally cracks and falls apart, though, not only am I left without a Starcaster, I may be left without a ship. Having someone who can move asteroids suddenly lose it—” He left the thought on a shrug. “Anyway, now that you’ve told me about your concerns regarding Stellers, I’m even more worried. So I need you to help me with him, Lieutenant. I need to know if he’s good to carry on, or if I need to find a new Starcaster for the Hecate.”