by J. N. Chaney
And green.
And that’s where Thorn’s transmissions were coming from.
“Thorn, where are you right this moment?” she asked.
“Yeah, that’s one of the things we need to talk about.”
Kira nodded, staring at the lurid green vessel. “One among many.”
Thorn settled himself into one of the sumptuous seats in Kira’s diplomatic quarters, which had been quickly reassigned to her. “Diplomats have better chairs. And everything else,” he added, tapping the chair’s arm as his face darkened. Every moment, thoughts of Morgan intruded into his reality, even though he knew that her power met or exceeded his.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, believe me,” Kira replied.
Thorn had already given her the backstory. While Admiral Scoville met with the Danzur, Thorn had taken her aside and summarized everything that had transpired with Bertilak, the alien that had apparently been fabricated out of magic by Morgan. He’d described how, after regaining his full magical potential, he’d used it to transport himself and Bertilak back to Code Gauntlet, then hastily met with Scoville. Fortunately, he had enough credibility with the Admiral to convince him that the best way to bring the Danzur in line was to show them what the ON could do.
He’d done it by once more moving a fleet, this time right into the Danzur’s system. Without any warning whatsoever, almost seventy warships, including thirty capital ships, had suddenly popped into existence on their literal doorstep.
“You said the Danzur were awed and scared by the Nyctus magic. I deduced that a show of force—the kind that isn’t based on technology—would make them see the light, so to speak,” Thorn said.
Kira stretched out her legs. “I think you succeeded. Hell, having that fleet just materialize like that scared the shit out of me. I thought it might be the Nyctus.”
Before Thorn could answer, the door chimed. Kira opened it, and Damien entered. He stopped when he saw Thorn.
“Lieutenant Stellers, I presume,” he said.
Thorn stood and stuck out his hand. “I prefer Thorn.”
When introductions were done, they all sat again. “I just came out of Scoville’s meeting with Tadrup. The Danzur are almost panting to resume negotiations and get them resolved in a timely manner.”
Kira rolled her eyes. “So, sometime between now and never.”
“Actually, Scoville’s given it one week, and then he says the ON will assume talks have failed.”
Kira’s eyes widened. “Then what?”
“He didn’t say. He didn’t have to. Tadrup assured him a week was more than sufficient.”
“What a little weasel.”
“Tadrup? More like a little bear, actually, but I get the point,” Damien said, laughing. He turned to Thorn.
“Tadrup also asked for a meeting with you. The Danzur would like to meet the man who can move entire fleets around with his thoughts.”
Thorn sniffed. “It’s a little more complicated than that. I might look like I’m all here, but honestly, I’m spent. My nerves are fried, my daughter is, ah, displaced, and every moment I worry that I’ll break down because that innocent girl—my flesh and blood—isn’t here. With us. Where she should be.”
“The Danzur don’t need to know that,” Damien replied. “And as to Morgan, I can’t fathom your pain. I mean that. But for now, I think we’ll keep you a mystery to them. You’re this larger-than-life figure of power and menace in their eyes. It doesn’t hurt that the Nyctus made such a big deal about you.”
Thorn’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“We’ll get to that. For now, I just want to take a few minutes and bask in the glow of this new friendship we have with our Danzur hosts,” Kira replied.
Damien grinned. “Hey, that almost sounded diplomatic.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I understand that Captain Tanner wants you back aboard the Hecate,” Bertilak said.
Thorn nodded. “So it appears.”
“I shall miss having you aboard the Jolly Green Giant, my friend.”
“Oh, you’re not going to be rid of me that easily. I plan on finally taking some of the leave I’ve got coming. I was kind of hoping to spend it with you, if you’ll have me,” Thorn replied.
Bertilak stared a moment, then grinned. “There will always be place aboard her for you, of course.”
Thorn raised a hand. “I’m not really talking about a pleasure cruise here, Bertilak.”
The grin faded. “No. Of course not. We must find Morgan.”
“Yeah, which is why—” Thorn began, then stopped when Kira appeared, poking her head hesitantly into the Jolly Green Giant’s bridge.
“I heard voices and followed them. My apologies for not asking for permission to come aboard,” she said.
“Pfft, we don’t stand on ceremony here. Please, be welcome aboard my ship.”
Kira walked onto the bridge, still wary. Thorn gave her reassuring smile, then turned back to Bertilak.
“That’s what I was about to say. Kira’s going to join us, at least for a while,” Thorn said.
“By all means! Welcome, Kira Wixcombe!”
“Kira, I’d like to introduce you to Bertilak. He’s—” Thorn cocked an eyebrow at the big alien, then smiled. “He’s a good friend.”
Bertilak looked at Thorn, his expression deeply grateful. He held it for a moment, then nodded once and turned to face them both.
“Now then, my friends, we have work to do.” The big alien clapped his hands together. “Where shall we begin?”
Epilogue
For a while, she simply drifted, carried along on placid currents.
As she drifted, she dreamed.
She was once more desperately trying to bring the Pool of Stars into the here and now, so she could refashion the artwork painted on its hull. Una’s Ass would become Morgan’s Ride, a beautiful horse replacing the ugly donkey. Her dream made real, replacing an old image, outdated, crude, and alien. Morgan was a human, and yet, she was not. She was many things, all contained in a small body with a mind that had no limits, just like her power.
It might have worked. She’d gotten so close. She’d almost managed to sever the last bond of time that held the ship in the past. A moment longer, and she’d have succeeded.
But it was in that moment that the Nyctus struck. The massed minds of a hundred shamans, joined in unison, had unleashed a barrage of power through the ether, driving into Morgan’s mind like a spear into flesh. She’d reeled under the assault, but even then, she had managed to hold her own for a time, stunning the seasoned enemy with the sheer depth of her power. The clash of magics sent the Pool of Stars flickering in and out of existence. It had been here, in the present, then it had snapped back to the past, before her power dragged it forward again.
Time itself began to unravel.
And still she might have won the day, except that Bertilak had chosen that most critical moment to contact her, with the news that Thorn Stellers had failed his third and final test. It had only distracted her for an instant, but that instant had been enough.
The Nyctus had driven their thoughts deep into hers, reshaping them in a violent sculpting that was part violation, and part artistry. In the process, their identities merged with hers, the combination leaking across her faltering links to the Pool of Stars. It snapped back into the past one, final time, and as it did, Morgan felt what happened to the crew. As the door of causality snapped closed on the past, and time reasserted itself, she heard them howling in agony, could sense their bodies becoming gelatinous, their limbs becoming tentacles. The comingled presence of her own thoughts, and those of the Nyctus invading her mind, imprinted itself on them.
She could feel their hatred radiating across the centuries, as hot as a volcanic vent.
Morgan knew where the Nyctus had come from, and the reality sickened her.
“Child?”
Her eyes snapped open. The light that flooded them was no longer
the comforting blue-green of a womb sac. It strobed an angry orange-red, filling Tāmtu’s depths with a harsh, unforgiving light, like the glow of lava, freshly emerged from the punishing depths of a tortured world. She turned to the voice, her face expressionless and flat.
The same flame-colored lights crackled and sparked along the elder shaman’s body. He’d lifted his tentacles, but there was nothing beneficent about the gesture. It was all about menace, about power and domination.
A second Nyctus swam forward and handed Morgan the doll she’d once called Mister Starman.
“You know who this represents, child, don’t you?”
She stared at the doll and nodded, then regarded her creations. I made you, she thought, giving each Nyctus a searching look. I made you like I made Bertilak. Like I can make a world. Or a universe.
“Now then, child. What is your purpose?”
She looked at the doll a moment longer, then lifted flat, empty eyes to the Nyctus and spoke without hesitation. She was young, but she was not without guile. They would learn.
They would all learn.
“To kill Thorn Stellers.”
Around her, the Nyctus flashed their approval, and Morgan stayed as silent as the depths. Soon, there would be time enough for truth.
But not yet.
Keep reading to continue the story in SAVAGE TIDE.
1
Thorn sat cross-legged in the Hecate’s witchport, waiting and watching, ready to pounce on the Nyctus at the most opportune moment.
The squid frigate had driven herself hard, her drive burning with a surprisingly powerful thrust. Lieutenant Osborne, the Tac O, had whistled at the sight of it, punched at the controls of his station on the Hecate’s bridge, then announced his verdict.
“Thought so. Sir, that squid ship is running at about thirty percent more thrust output than we’ve ever seen before,” he said.
Captain Tanner had tapped his chin. “Interesting. Is it a new drive, or are they just so shit-scared of the mighty Hecate that they’re willing to risk melting their coils to get away?”
“I’d say a new drive, sir. The spectral signature doesn’t match anything in our database,” Osborne replied.
Thorn had watched the exchange with mild interest. The Hecate, a destroyer, had the Nyctus ship outgunned by at least half. He was quite content to leave this fight to the technology and instead stay alert for other threats.
Besides, if the Hecate really needed help, Bertilak kept station not far away in the Jolly Green Giant. Both the alien and his ship were constructs of magic filtered through the understanding of an eight-year-old. That meant neither were fully constrained by physics—nor any other laws of reality, for that matter. It gave Bertilak an edge in most fights, which had come in handy more than once.
It all changed, though, when Tanner finally decided what to do.
“Lieutenant Stellers, I think we’re quite capable of turning that squid ship to scrap if we want to. I’d like to try a more nuanced approach and see if we can take it intact,” he said.
Thorn raised an eyebrow and shifted in his seat—a full-sized one, now that the tight little jump seat he usually occupied on the bridge had been replaced with something adult-sized. In true Tanner fashion, there’d been no fanfare. The day before they left Code Gauntlet on this patrol, the seat had quietly been upgraded.
“What did you have in mind, sir?” Thorn asked.
Tanner waved a hand at the main tactical display. “Use your magic, Lieutenant. See if you can disable them, make them surrender—something that doesn’t involve a gunfight, anyway.”
So here he was in the witchport, staring into the void and waiting for his chance.
He’d reached out with his magically infused perceptions once already but found only a diffuse smear of fleeting thoughts and contradictory emotions. That, Thorn knew, was the work of a shaman obfuscating his awareness of the Nyctus frigate and its crew. He could burn through it, but he wanted to get closer. Greater distance meant he had to push his cognizance further and harder, making his fight against the shaman’s stubborn defenses more difficult. If he became locked in a protracted battle of wills with the squid, they might decide to scuttle their ship. That was exactly what Tanner didn’t want.
So he waited. When he finally struck, Thorn wanted to be able to overwhelm the squids all at once, seize control of them and their ship, and have them shut down their apparently supercharged drive.
The Hecate was gaining slowly, though. He might have to act sooner than he wanted, if only because they were racing toward a pair of terrestrial-class planets orbiting a yellow-white star. Both were surrounded by halos of rocky debris, making them an ideal environment for an ambush. And ambushes, sometimes strikingly complex and meticulous ones, were near the top of the squids’ playlist.
Tanner’s voice hummed through the intercom. “How much longer do you need, Stellers?”
“Like I said, sir, for this sort of thing, closer is better. This far back, I’m still not sure I could seize control before the squids did something drastic,” he replied.
“Understood. You’ve got thirty minutes to—”
Tanner abruptly cut out.
Thorn narrowed his eyes at the intercom but just waited. When a voice once again erupted from it, it was Osborne’s, sharp with alarm.
“All stations, crash action mine! I say again, crash action mine!”
Thorn hastily wove magic around him in a protective cocoon of force, an almost instinctive response he’d perfected with much practice and more than a few mishaps. He preferred it, though, to strapping himself into the witchport. The webwork of straps intended to hold him in place as he knelt in the dark, secluded little space on the Hecate’s prow just got in his way—
A searing flash of light washed over him. Things clattered and banged against the destroyer’s hull, some of them provoking the reactive armor into detonating with deck-shuddering thumps.
“All stations, report damage,” Tanner said.
Acknowledgements rolled in. The mine had caused superficial damage only. Far more impactful were the mines present in this system, which completely changed the tactical calculus.
When the last of the damage reports was done, Tanner came back on the intercom. “That changes things. We didn’t even see that mine until it was close enough to be a threat. Stealthed-up mines means we have to reduce our velocity or risk a direct hit.”
Thorn curled his lip. Changing the Hecate’s flight profile to accommodate the threat of mines meant the squids were going to get away. He knew what was coming from Tanner next.
“It’s now or never, Stellers. If you can’t stop them, then we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way, with missiles and similarly lethal shit,” he said.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Gentlemen, I have a suggestion,” a new voice cut in. It was Bertilak.
“Go ahead,” Tanner said.
“Let me take the lead, clear out the mines ahead of you,” the alien replied.
“Bertilak, even the Jolly Green Giant can’t just shrug off a mine hit,” Thorn said.
“Oh, I have no intention of hitting any mines, believe me. I’m confident I can clear a path for both of us.”
After a pause, Tanner spoke up. “Let’s give it a try. Helm, put us behind Bertilak, and keep us there.”
“Aye, sir,” came the reply.
Thorn watched out of the open witchport as Bertilak’s ship swept into view. Thorn had suggested naming it the Jolly Green Giant for a good reason—it was very, very green. Now, bright as emerald against the starfield, it dwindled into the distance as the alien took station about a hundred klicks ahead of the Hecate.
The Tac O’s voice snagged Thorn’s attention.
“Captain Tanner, I don’t think this is a pre-laid minefield. Even the most stealthed-up mines should have some signature, if we’re looking hard enough for them. But there’s nothing out there.” The tension in Osborne’s voice ratcheted up a notch. “
As it was, we only saw the mine that went off when we were almost right on top of it.”
“Well, that’s not good news at all. Entirely undetectable mines could be a game-changer,” Tanner replied.
“Roger that, sir. I’ll keep doing sweeps, but I’m not seeing a damned thing out there.”
“Squids have been busy perfecting some new tech, it seems,” Tanner said.
Thorn turned back to the starfield. As he did, a brief, brilliant pulse of verdant light flashed against his retinas.
“Got one!” Bertilak said.
“A mine?” Tanner asked.
“Yes. Saw it just ahead.”
On impulse, Thorn rested his fingers on his talisman, the old childhood storybook, and closed his eyes. Reaching across the ether, he again ran headlong into the shaman’s magical denial. He ignored it, though, and concentrated on the bits and pieces of thought and emotion that swirled and blurred together. Jumbling it all like this prevented Thorn from seizing on any one squid and taking magical control of it. But that wasn’t his intent—yet.
There.
—another, prepare to drop.
Thorn’s eyes snapped open. “Captain Tanner, there is no squid minefield out there. That frigate’s dropping them in her wake.”
“You sure about that, Lieutenant?”
“Virtually certain,” Thorn replied.
“Okay, then. Bertilak, did you copy that?” Tanner asked.
“I did. If that’s what Thorn believes, then I believe it—”
Greenish light flared again, then Bertilak went on.
“Sorry, detected another one. Anyway, I agree. I think Thorn’s right.”
Tanner grunted his own assent. “Alright. Helm, Engineering, try to squeeze a little more out of our drive. I want this sonofabitch, and those planets are starting to get too close for my liking.”
“This is as good as it’s going to get, Stellers,” Tanner said. “You’ve got three minutes to stop that squid ship. If you can’t, we’re opening fire.”
