Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “Crew?”

  “Yes. The crew of your ship.”

  “You’re looking at it, friends. I am Bertilak, and I am the crew.”

  Thorn tried to keep his bland smile from collapsing into a frown completely. “You’re alone?”

  “Well, not right now, if we chose to be pedantic. As of now, I am with friends, and thus, hardly alone,” Bertilak stated, as if this was obvious.

  Tanner exchanged a glance of entreaty with Thorn. “Lieutenant Stellers will have you well in-hand, I’m sure,” the Captain said, his comm chiming again. “Right now, though, I really have to get back to—”

  “Your ship, yes. They are mistresses, these ships, that constantly demand our attention, eh?” The big man offered Tanner a sly grin and an exaggerated wink. “Even when we would rather be engaged in more interesting things. But taking care of the things that care for us is a necessity. I understand your need to be elsewhere, Captain, and thank you for the courtesy of explaining your tasks.”

  Tanner smiled and nodded. “Yes. Mistresses. Well, this one does demand my attention. I’ll speak to you shortly. Until then, Lieutenant Stellers can provide you with our hospitality and thanks.” The Captain took Thorn’s salute, then strode away.

  “Now, then, Thorn Stellers, where shall we go? What shall we do?”

  “We will go to the mess. I’ll give you a tour of the ship along the way.”

  “Except for the secret parts, of course. This is, after all, a warship.”

  “Secret parts?” Thorn asked blandly.

  “Every ship has secrets,” Bertilak said, the sly look returning. “Everyone has secrets.”

  Thorn struggled to keep his expression flat. Despite the good humor bubbling in his voice, Bertilak’s words somehow put him on edge. It reminded him of how, at one particular power setting, the Hecate’s Alcubierre drive hummed with a harmonic that made Thorn’s teeth vibrate. Bertilak was that harmonic embodied, albeit infused with hearty cheer.

  He gestured for Bertilak to walk with him. “Except for the secret parts, yes.”

  Bertilak strode along the Hecate’s corridors with a surprisingly light step for such a big man, and an infectious grin that none of the crew could seem to resist. They all grinned back, despite the desperate race to get the ship functional enough to get underway again. Many offered their thanks.

  Bertilak took it all with good humor, an effusive grin, and much laughter. Thorn felt more than a little obscured by the big alien’s sheer force of personality. Even the Honor Guard had taken to offering frequent smiles and chuckles at Bertilak’s robust antics.

  The big alien finally stopped at a corridor junction just short of the mess and turned to Thorn, gesturing at their Honor Guard. “Thorn, my friend, you do not need these people here to watch over me. I am no threat whatsoever, as I would like to think I’ve demonstrated by now. That is a precedent, as you might say, and my behavior shall not change.”

  “That sounds like exactly the sort of thing someone who was a threat might say,” Thorn replied, smiling.

  Bertilak laughed loud enough to make the conduits ring. “Well played, sir. I am glad Captain Tanner made you my overseer. I find a lack of humor to be tedious beyond belief.”

  Thorn glanced at the two Ratings, who simply stood nearby, waiting. “You two can go and help out with the ship. I’ll take care of Bertilak—my good friend, here.”

  The senior Rating saluted, and the two walked away. Thorn led Bertilak to the mess.

  It was one of the few places in the Hecate that wasn’t currently a bustle of activity. The ship had suffered surprisingly few casualties for the pummeling she’d taken—about two-dozen crew were injured, but no one had been killed. None of the casualty treatment had spilled over from the infirmary, leaving the mess ready for use as a makeshift medical facility, but not currently needed as one.

  Thorn gestured for Bertilak to sit at one of the tables. He did, somewhat awkwardly levering himself into a seat meant for a much smaller bulk than his.

  “I would happily offer you some refreshment,” Thorn said, “but I don’t know your dietary requirements. Also, most of the food services systems are offline right now.”

  “That’s fine,” Bertilak said, raising a huge, green hand. “I am quite happy to simply sit and get acquainted with my new friends.”

  Thorn sat across the table. “I thought you said you had dealt frequently with humans before.”

  “Ah, but not your sort of humans—the military sort. I’ve dealt with many traders, as soldiers can be less likely to engage with a simple trader. Like me.”

  Thorn nodded. While he wasn’t aware of many human traders operating outside of space patrolled by the ON, it could certainly be possible. He decided to leave it for now.

  “‘Bertilak is an interesting name,” he said. “Is it old Earth French?

  “It might be. I don’t really know.”

  Thorn nodded but found Bertilak’s casual acceptance of the possibility yet another bit of oddness. He knew about old Earth languages? “I suppose it probably wouldn’t be,” Thorn said. “You don’t look Terran, after all.”

  “Because I’m green?”

  “That’s one reason, yes.”

  “There are others?”

  Thorn smiled and shook his head. “No, not really. You actually look Terran in pretty much every way except for being green. And big.”

  “Well, Bertilak’s not the name my parents gave me. That was something you wouldn’t be able to pronounce, and for our purposes, Bertilak will do nicely.”

  Thorn smiled again. “That’s fine.” He glanced around the mess, his gaze landing on the coffee dispenser. “Have you ever had coffee?”

  “Have I? I most certainly have. Caffeine is among the wonders of our galaxy. And others, I suspect.”

  Thorn nodded and turned to the dispenser. As he did, he summoned a glimmer of magic and let his awareness drift away—not far, of course, only so that it encompassed Bertilak.

  Nothing. From a ’casting perspective, the colorful—both figuratively and literally—alien might not as well even exist.

  Thorn wasn’t sure what to make of that. The idea of a race of aliens essentially transparent to magic had a slew of implications. It could be a threat, or beneficial, depending on how they might align themselves. He’d have to suggest to Tanner that they get to friendly space as soon as possible, ideally with Bertilak in company.

  “This seems to be a fine ship, with a fine crew,” Bertilak said, looking around.

  Thorn turned, a cup of coffee in each hand, and went back to the table. “It is. Personally, I think it’s the best in the Orbital Navy.”

  Bertilak’s grin remained in place. “I suspect every crew believes that about themselves and their ship. Pride can be an issue, but not when the pride is used as a tool to augment naval capability. Or morale.”

  Thorn nodded and sipped coffee. It struck him that the coffee he created to replace tea was better by a longshot. Of course, that was coffee as he envisioned it, so it would be, wouldn’t it?

  “Are you far from your, ah, home space?” Thorn asked.

  “I have no home space,” the alien replied. “Or, rather, maybe I do. It’s wherever I happen to be, so my location is my home.”

  “I see. Okay, what I mean is, the space from which you originated. Where you were—” He was going to say born, but wasn’t sure if that would even apply. “Where you first came into existence. Where you’re from.”

  Bertilak gave a genuine frown. “I’m not sure. I’ve always been where I am, or at least, that’s all I can remember. I admit this seems a bit opaque, but my memory only extends so far, and I have no burning need to seek further answers.”

  “Ah.” Thorn sipped coffee. Was Bertilak being truthful, and he didn’t know, or was he being deliberately evasive? Without being able to Join, Thorn had no way of knowing, aside from the usual telltales of honesty. But those were human qualities, which might not apply to the alien. Either way, it
would be tough to tease out of his almost constantly bubbly, effusive manner.

  He decided to try a different approach. “Bertilak, where did you—”

  A soft chime sounded. Bertilak glanced down at one of the gadgets hanging from his waist. “A message from my ship,” he said. “My apologies, but may I have a moment to deal with this?”

  Thorn cocked his head, suddenly suspicious. “I thought you were alone on your ship.”

  “I am. This is from my synthetic.”

  “Synthetic?”

  “Yes. I suppose you would call it an artificial intelligence.”

  “Ah, okay. What’s its name?”

  Bertilak looked confused. “Name?”

  “Your AI. We have an advanced one aboard the Gyrfalcon, the smaller fighter we carry about the Hecate. She’s named Trixie.”

  “I’m sorry, Thorn, but she? She has a name? Why?”

  “Because she’s basically almost sentient.”

  “My synthetic is a machine, nothing more,” Bertilak said. “In any case, if I may have a moment.”

  Thorn nodded, drained his coffee, and stood. “Once you’re done, or if you need me in the meantime, I’ll wait outside for you.”

  The grin flashed back to full power. “I thank you.”

  Thorn turned as the door to the mess slid closed behind him, and stared at it.

  He was still convinced that something was off, and in a way that was outside even his unusual set of life experiences. Moreover, his concerns would have trouble finding traction with Tanner or the crew based solely on a vague unease. Bertilak had saved all of their lives, then proven to be a strange, but decidedly charismatic figure of ebullient good humor.

  And that just made Thorn all the more suspicious.

  I’m a cynic. But in the end, cynics are always right, Thorn mused.

  Tanner looked around his briefing room, going from face to face.

  “Thoughts about our new friend?”

  “Seems harmless enough,” Raynaud, the XO, said. Her voice was more taut than usual. Somehow, during the battle, she’d taken a blow to the head and now had a bandage wrapped around it. She’d eschewed any sort of painkillers, though, declaring she needed to keep her wits about her until the Hecate was back in friendly space.

  “You wouldn’t think that if you were the Nyctus, ma’am,” Osborne, the Tac O, said. “We’ve reviewed the logs from the battle, especially focusing on Bertilak’s shots at the squid ships. We have got no idea what sort of weapon he was using—only that it seemed to be a direct energy system of crazy power output.”

  “I saw. Two shots, two dead squid corvettes,” the XO put in. “Love to get me some of that kinda firepower.”

  Tanner nodded. “Agreed. That’s something we can nudge our way toward, though. Frankly, Bertilak owes us nothing. It’s very much the other way around, in fact. So we’re not in a position to start prying much—yet, anyway.” He turned to Thorn. “Stellers, what about you? You spent the most time with him.”

  “Aye, sir, I did. And . . . I don’t know. He doesn’t react with magic, and I find that deeply unsettling. Even a rock has some degree of interaction with the energy of magic—more if it’s got interesting elements inside, but to be a black hole where magic fails to report back? Troubling,” Thorn said with a shake of his head.

  “None? To clarify, not a glimmer when you apply your skills to his ship?” Tanner asked, incredulous.

  “No, sir. None. Just like his ship, Bertilak effectively doesn’t exist, as far as magic’s concerned.”

  “Something else it would be nice to dig into,” the XO said. “Having magic-immune allies against the squids would be huge. It might even turn the war.”

  Thorn crossed his arms. “Maybe. The trouble is, we don’t know anything about him or his people—and that’s if his people even exist. He claims he’s the only one of his kind he knows, and his speech patterns indicate gaps in his own self-awareness.”

  “He had to come from somewhere,” the Tac O said. “There must be a race of big, green, anti-magical aliens out there, maybe even further beyond Nyctus space than the—er, what’s that race called? The one we’re talking with right now?”

  “The Danzur,” Thorn replied, which immediately made him think of Kira. What insight would she have about Bertilak? Could she know something, maybe picked something up from the Danzur about his race?”

  “All of this is what-if’s and conjecture,” Tanner replied. “Stellers, why don’t you just ask him and leave the oblique tactics to the spooks?”

  “I’ve tried, sir. Three times, I tried to engage him in conversation about his past, his people, his origins, his ship—and every time, something seems to pull him away.”

  Tanner leaned back in his seat. “What sort of somethings?”

  “Twice, it was the AI—what he calls a synthetic—aboard his ship. The third time, it was the Tac O here.”

  Osborne scratched an ear. “Hey, I saw him ahead of me in the corridor and wanted to personally thank him for pulling our ass out of the fire.”

  “I don’t think that counts as a mysterious interruption,” Tanner said. “Unless, Stellers, you’re telling me there’s more going on here than we realize. For instance, are you suggesting that he somehow influenced Lieutenant Osborne to interrupt you?”

  Thorn sighed. “No, sir. Or, if he did, it wasn’t in any way I could see or sense.”

  “So we’re back to you and your feelings again.” Tanner patted the air, allowing a small smile. “Not that they aren’t valid.”

  “Sorry, sir. I wish I had something more concrete, but all I’ve got is a healthy dose of my own, deeply ingrained suspicions.”

  “You’re the only one, then,” the XO said. “He seems to have charmed most of the crew. I’ve seen him walking through the ship, talking and laughing as though he’s been aboard for weeks, not just a few hours.”

  “He does have a certain appeal to him, I must admit,” Tanner said, then he glanced at Thorn. “But you obviously disagree.”

  “I’m not saying he’s not a blast of good humor. No, he definitely is,” Thorn said. “I respectfully ask you to be alert. That’s all.”

  “Stealing your limelight, maybe?” Osborne muttered.

  Thorn fired a glance at the Tac O. “If you’d like to lay dead on a morgue table after fighting with magic, be my guest. I’d love the help.”

  “Enough,” Tanner snapped. “Might I remind you that you are standing in your Captain’s briefing room, with your Captain present. Now, with that in mind, gentlemen, please proceed. I’d like to see where this goes.”

  Thorn looked at Osborne, who looked back. Neither said anything.

  “Excellent choice,” Tanner said. “Now, if you two want to go and work out this dick-waving contest during a sparring match in the gym, fine. Until then, keep them firmly in your trousers. Do we have an understanding?”

  Thorn and Osborne both nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  “Now that that’s been firmly and irrevocably settled, we have a ship to get back underway, folks. To your duties. And Thorn? Don’t take my silence for acceptance of Bertilak at face value. I’m a born cynic as well, but I hide it under my excessive charms.”

  “Aye, sir,” Thorn said, stifling a laugh.

  “Carry on, then.” Tanner turned away in dismissal, leaving Thorn with his suspicions.

  10

  Morgan was bored.

  Drifting on gentle currents beneath the icy mantle enclosing Tāmtu had been fun. Living underwater—even breathing the stuff—and otherwise poking around the sprawling submarine towns and cities had also been fun. The endless expanse of sea-bottom was a playground to rival anything on Nebo, but that sensation was long gone.

  The novelty of it all had worn off. The Nyctus of Tāmtu were her friends, all of them recognizing her and greeting her warmly. But Morgan was starting to find answering them back just as warmly was getting tiresome. She didn’t want to annoy her new friends, but they all had things they had to
do, places to go, other Nyctus to meet. This bustle of complicated activity was what kept the towns and cities running, kept the Radiance that illuminated the abyss lit, and kept the Nyctus civilization on Tāmtu generally working. She understood that.

  But it was boring.

  She tried to spend more time with the younger Nyctus, but it wasn’t the same. Morgan knew enough about how people worked that she understood that children turned into grown-ups. But she also knew that children were just like grown-ups, only smaller. It was different with the Nyctus, though. Their babies started out like fat, pinkish worms, which then changed into spindly things with little tentacles. With no legs, and no obvious way to communicate or do anything at all but swim around randomly, little Nyctus were worse than boring. Only when they reached what the Nyctus called second birth did they become recognizable as actual Nyctus. As soon as they did, they basically turned instantly into grown-ups and graduated back to those boring—sure, important, but still boring—grown-up things.

  So she could try to amuse herself among pinkish slugs, or apparently mindless larvae, or among the grown-up Nyctus who had so many other things to do—

  “I can tell that you’re troubled, child,” the elder shaman said.

  Morgan turned from the glowing city sprawled a thousand meters below her feet and looked at the shaman with a frown.

  “I’m bored.”

  “What would you like to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Morgan bit her lip, thinking about it. “Are there other places?” she finally asked.

  “There are—many other places.” A tentacle lifted and pointed in a random direction. “Over there is another place. And there’s another place right beyond it. And—”

  Morgan couldn’t help giggling. “Yeah, I know that. I mean, are there other places like—” She paused, struggling to express herself. The elder shaman just waited.

  “Like this,” she finally exclaimed, sweeping her hands all around. “Like, up there, out there, above the ice and the sky!”

  “You mean, are there other planets.”