Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  Thorn felt the XO, Tac O, and others around the bridge tense slightly. The Warning Order implied a long and potentially extremely dangerous trek deep into Nyctus space. It harkened back to other special ops the Hecate had been involved in, but the last one of those had been at least two years ago. She’d spent the interim in the line, patrolling and skirmishing across the Zone between human and squid space.

  “Isn’t something like that better suited to a purpose-built spec ops ship?” the XO asked.

  “No time. For reasons Fleet certainly doesn’t share with me, there aren’t any spec ops ships available any time soon. We’re the next-best thing. I expect full orders at twenty-hundred hours, but in the meantime, Nav O, I’m sending you a set of navigation coordinates. Plot a course to get us there asap, and please pass the info on to Bertilak, should he wish to accompany us.” Tanner touched the controls on the arm of his command chair. The Nav O checked his own display, then offered Tanner a thumbs up.

  The Captain turned to Thorn. “You’re going to get to see an old friend, Stellers.”

  “Sir?”

  “We’re going to find the Stiletto waiting for us at those coordinates. You’ll be able to renew your acquaintance with Alys Densmore.”

  Thorn curled his lip. “I can hardly wait, sir.”

  Thorn meant to head for the airlock, to meet the new arrivals from the Stiletto, who would support the upcoming op. But Tanner waylaid him, pulling him into his little briefing room and closing the door.

  “Stellers, I just finished reading your full report. That Skin, Dolahey, recognized you?”

  “Yes sir, she did. No idea how, though. I’m sure I’ve never met her before.”

  “Could that have been the squids’ doing?”

  Thorn paused, thinking through every nuance of her expression. His immediate reaction had been, no, of course not. But that was just denying what was suddenly an obvious and deeply unpleasant truth.

  He finally had to nod. “Yes, sir. That’s definitely a possibility. They could have implanted memories of me when they corrupted her.”

  That left him and Tanner exchanging an uncomfortable look.

  Tanner leaned onto the little desk with his elbows. “If they’re programming their Skins to recognize you, Stellers, it’s not hard to figure out why. You said one of them immediately attacked you, right?”

  Thorn let out a slow breath. “Yeah, he did. You think these Skins are assassins?”

  “These three were on board the Dauntless, and have been at least several weeks. She only got orders about a week ago to do this reprovisioning run. So, no, these ones weren’t specifically tagged to kill you, obviously.” Tanner leaned back again. “But that makes it worse.”

  “Yes, sir, it does.” It meant every Skin was potentially implanted with memories of Thorn and an imperative to kill him. Virtually every other member of the ON was a possible threat to him. He could only exclude the current crews of the Hecate and the Dauntless, both of which he’d Scryed closely. Even then, that assumed he’d found all of them and the squids hadn’t managed to bury some of their vile work more deeply or subtly in some than others.

  “Congratulations on becoming a high-value target, Stellers. I’m assigning a round-the-clock Marine guard detail to you immediately,” Tanner said, reaching for the intercom.

  “Sir, I don’t think that’s necessary—”

  “I do. You’re an extremely valuable asset to the ON and this ship. More to the point, you’re one of my crew. And no one aboard the Hecate is going to be assassinated on my watch.”

  Thorn nodded to the dour Marine Corporal standing outside the door to his quarters. The Marine snapped smartly to attention, saluted, and then waited to fall in a few paces behind Thorn. He’d be there, practically tethered to Thorn, watching over him until his post was done. Then, he’d be replaced by another Marine, and so on, and so on.

  Thorn hated it. Having a watchdog looming over him made him feel both awkward and, ironically, somehow more of a target.

  The fact that it was a sensible precaution only frustrated him more.

  He arrived at the Hecate’s docking hangar, now the semi-permanent home of Mol’s Gyrfalcon, while it was still pressurizing. He waited, eyeing the pressure indicator and trying not to eye the Marine, who stood just a few paces away. They weren’t subtle, but they weren’t meant to be. Marines were all about being ready for speed and violence, and then being speedy and violent. They not only didn’t try to hide it, but they also embraced it as who and what they were.

  The indicator turned green. Thorn hit the hatch control and stepped inside, just as the Gyrfalcon’s airlock slid open and people began to disembark.

  Speaking of speed and violence.

  Thorn smiled at the sturdy, compact woman who’d stepped out of the fighter. “Hello, Master Petty Officer Brand. And, yes, I know, Tiger Team Three always uses first names, so hello, Alix. Good to see you.”

  “Good to be seen, sir,” she replied, shaking his hand twice, and firmly.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

  “Always use it once to get it out of the way. So I gather we’re going on a little jaunt together again. Warning order says it’s search-and-destroy, but it also says we might have some hostage rescue involved.”

  “You probably know as much as anyone, Alix. The intel on this is pretty thin.”

  “Making it up as we go along? That’s when I do my best work.”

  “Really?”

  Alix gave a hard, thin smile. “No, not at all. Ops are always best when they’re planned in detail and have the shit rehearsed out of them. That doesn’t happen very often, though.”

  Thorn watched as the rest of Tiger Team Three clambered out of the Gyrfalcon. He recognized one of them, a big man named Toff, but the rest, as far as he could tell, were new.

  “Seems like a lot of turnover in Tiger Team Three,” he said.

  Alix shrugged. “People die.”

  Her simple two words clung stubbornly to Thorn as they headed out of the docking bay, his Marine protector close behind him.

  10

  Thorn tried to relax. It wasn’t easy, though, partly because he was jammed into vac-armor, but mostly because he was about to be flung once more into face-to-face battle. He wished he could find the same sort of pre-battle calm that seemed to come naturally to Tiger Team Three, which was packed into the Gyrfalcon’s cabin behind him.

  Mol, in the pilot’s crash-couch beside him, tapped a control with a flourish. “Preflight checklist complete. Hecate, ready to launch on your command.”

  “Roger that. Stand by,” came the reply.

  “Stellers, Alcubierre cutoff in just over two minutes. You ready?” Tanner asked.

  “As I’ll ever be, sir.”

  “Okay, this op is a go.”

  The docking hangar doors swung open, revealing the eye-twisting void of the Alcubierre bubble carrying the Hecate to the star system known as the Three Sisters. Thorn could have moved the destroyer there himself, and much more quickly. They’d decided, though, that the risk of having him out of commission magically afterward, even for a brief time, was just too high. So they took the slower route, five days of Alcubierre flight time, using a circuitous series of hops to obfuscate their destination.

  “You never got aboard the Stiletto to meet your old pal Densmore, huh?” Mol asked.

  “Nope. We’re trying to minimize the number of people coming and going from the Hecate.”

  He saw Mol grin through her faceplate. “I’ll bet you’re all broken up about that. I know how much you like her and all.”

  Thorn rolled his eyes at her. “I got to talk to her via comm. That was more than enough for me.”

  Actually, Thorn thought, it wasn’t that he didn’t like Alys Densmore. She was a tough, competent officer, who had to oversee the planning and execution of who knew how many complex and potentially sensitive spec ops. The trouble was that her world was one of secrets, and scheming, and deception. He didn’t tr
ust Alys Densmore. He and Kira had once even suspected her of possibly being a squid agent, or even a Skin herself. He’d long since convinced himself she wasn’t.

  Okay, almost convinced himself she wasn’t.

  “Thorn? Let us know when you start Shading us,” a man’s voice said over the comm.

  Thorn would have turned back to look at the speaker if he could. Densmore had assigned two of her own spec ops Starcasters to this mission. The speaker was a Castle named Austin, and with her was a man, a Hammer named Wembley, both Lieutenants. Thorn vaguely remembered meeting them both at Code Gauntlet, but he knew little about them. What he did know was that the last time Densmore had assigned Starcasters to a covert mission involving Thorn, they’d turned out to be Skins. And that made him think of his real conversation with Densmore, not the one carried out over a comm, but in their respective minds.

  I am not comfortable with having them along, ma’am, he’d said to her.

  I understand. But these two have been thoroughly vetted, and their exact whereabouts have been known for the past two years. That’s mandatory now in the spec ops shop. None of us have any real privacy anymore.

  I get that. But something else you have to understand, ma’am, is that I have more than a little vested interest in who I spend time with.

  And you still don’t quite trust me.

  All due respect, ma’am, but no, I don’t. Hell, I don’t quite trust anyone these days.

  I know. Captain Tanner filled me in. That said, though, you’re going deep into squid space to raid an installation about which we know almost nothing. You and Tiger Team Three need the magical backup. But feel free to subject Wembley and Austin, and all of the Tiger Team, for that matter, to whatever sort of investigations and tests you want. Just don’t break any of them. They’re expensive to replace.

  Thorn had Scryed them all, thoroughly. He saw not even a hint that any of them had been compromised. It still didn’t quite put his mind at ease, but, in the end, orders were orders. He consoled himself with the thought that he couldn’t very well just hide on the Hecate forever. Helping to fight and win the war was going to force him to take some risks.

  At least Tanner had agreed that, while in the company of the elite Tiger Team, he probably didn’t need his Marine overseer.

  “Sir?” Wembley asked.

  “Sorry, was just running through a few last minute things in my mind. Yeah, the instant that Alcubierre bubble pops, I’ll throw a Shade around the Hecate and hold it as long as I can. Austin, you’re ready to Castle-up the Gyrfalcon?”

  “I was born ready,” she replied.

  Thorn had to smile. He hoped these two didn’t turn out to be deep-cover Skins because they both seemed like people he could come to call friends.

  A warning chime sounded, announcing thirty seconds to the Hecate’s Alcubierre drive cutoff.

  “Trixie, fire up the pre-launch sequence,” Mol said.

  “Roger that.”

  Thorn watched as indicators lit up, the Gyrfalcon switching to her own, internal power. The thrusters came to life, pressurized fuel ready to vent at Mol’s command and maneuver the nimble little ship away from the Hecate.

  But he couldn’t help noticing Trixie’s strictly business-like tone. Apparently, she’d dropped her morose demeanor and replaced it with something much more clipped and professional. She just hadn’t been her formerly bubbly, irreverent self since Thorn had brought her back from the digital oblivion to which a computer virus had consigned her. Maybe he should have taken that as a warning about Morgan. Things just didn’t seem to come back quite the same way they’d been when they died.

  Thorn shrugged the dreary thoughts away and rested his fingers on his talisman, which was sitting on his lap, then he closed his eyes.

  Burning. Fire. Smoke. Fear—

  The flickers of old, remembered experience were alarming, but they were also familiar. The old pain that imbued the book once more became his anchor in reality.

  Thorn opened his eyes.

  Stars suddenly flashed into view, framed by the open hangar doors. The instant they did, Thorn sealed a curtain of magic around the Hecate, crafting it to show nothing but the stars that any observer would naturally expect to see. He expanded it to include Bertilak’s ship, which was keeping close station, ready to join the Gyrfalcon on its run into the Nyctus station.

  Mol hit the thrusters and eased the Gyrfalcon out of the docking bay.

  “Gyrfalcon, you are clear to maneuver,” the Hecate’s controller said.

  Mol immediately spun the fighter, at the same time slewing it sideways, bringing it to a point about a klick away from the Hecate’s starboard quarter. Bertilak’s ship snuggled in close, only a few hundred meters away.

  “Bertilak, everything okay with you?” Thorn asked.

  “Couldn’t be better. As soon as you’re ready to start your run in, I’ll be right behind you.”

  For the moment, the Hecate, the Gyrfalcon, and the Jolly Green Giant swept sunward. Or suns-ward, since there were three stars in the system. Two of the Three Sisters were fierce, glaring points of bluish-white light, while the third loomed much larger, but also much dimmer. The station orbited a rocky planet that itself traveled a complex orbit around a barycenter somewhere between the three stars. The Hecate’s Astrogation shop said that the planet was probably only a few thousand years from finally being either ejected from the system or pulled into the red giant. Thorn decided to not worry about that, as he’d be long gone, and the possibility of a colony surviving in the system was almost nil.

  He focused his attention on the squid station. Their own passive scanners had already told them this system was pretty much empty, with no Nyctus warships on the prowl. Or, at least, none that they could detect, anyway. The only ships present seemed to be a trio of small workboats, and a larger, corvette-sized ship. Thorn pushed his awareness to the station, propagating it on a wave of magic. The distant construct solidified in his mind—

  A disk, maybe two hundred meters across. Point-defense batteries but, as far as he could tell, nothing more substantial. A name.

  Glorious Horizon Processing Home.

  And pain. Pain, suffering, fear. The Glorious Horizon Processing Home was rife with it, a toxic, simmering stew of dark emotions, shot through with bright flashes of raw terror, like lightning bolts.

  Thorn’s fists began balling themselves up again.

  Fortunately, there was no sign they’d been detected for the brief moment the Hecate and the Giant had been visible before Thorn Shaded them. The three ships were able to race in like avenging thunderbolts, which was apt because that’s exactly what Thorn wanted.

  Vengeance.

  Time passed. Thorn felt pressure building against the Shade. As they closed on the station, the improving resolution of its scanners expressed itself as a palpable and increasing force. Of course, the three ships should be readily visible to the station now, so the Shade had to work harder to prevent it.

  “Hecate, Stellers here. I’ve probably got another five minutes or so, and then I’ll either have to concentrate fully on the Shade or let it go.”

  “Gyrfalcon, wait out,” Tanner replied.

  Thorn could imagine the Hecate’s bridge, the Tac and Nav O’s crunching their respective numbers. He waited.

  Tanner finally replied. “Stellers, if you drop that Shade of yours in just over four minutes, you’ll have about fifteen minutes of flight time to the station. You okay with that?”

  Thorn glanced at Mol, who gave a thumbs up.

  “Just rinky-dink point defenses, right? Yeah, hell, I can fly us through those without breaking a sweat. Or, more of a sweat—I think the cooling system in this vac armor isn’t working right,” Mol said.

  “Once we’re aboard, take your helmet off. We’re wearing these things more because that squid station might be full of water,” Thorn replied, then turned his attention back to the comm.

  “Hecate, Gyrfalcon. That works for us. Bertilak, did you
copy that?”

  “I certainly did.”

  “Hecate, roger, out,” Tanner said.

  Thorn watched the time and distance tick down. With each passing second, the pressure on the Shade increased. Thorn had to bear down hard, pouring magic into the effect, reinforcing it. Finally, through a clenched jaw, he spoke on the comm.

  “Hecate, Bertilak, I’m dropping the Shade in ten seconds.”

  They acknowledged. Thorn counted the seconds down, then let out a gasp at ten. The Shade abruptly dissipated. As soon as it did, the Hecate veered away, moving to a high-cover position about ten thousand klicks away from the station. No longer tied to the more cumbersome destroyer, Mol punched the Gyrfalcon’s drive, accelerating them hard, directly at their objective. Bertilak had no trouble matching their performance—of course.

  Thorn felt Austin erect a formidable barrier around them, a Castle effect that should block whatever stray shots Mol didn’t manage to dodge. A minute passed. Another. No response from the squids. Thorn found himself grimacing at that. Was he missing something?

  But the sudden eruption of point-defense fire from the station reassured him he wasn’t. Mol’s fingers flew across the Gyrfalcon’s controls, causing the fighter to jink and gyrate, slowing their approach but making it a much more elusive target. Bertilak just maintained a steady course and acceleration, pulling ahead.

  Thorn saw flashes ripple across the Jolly Green Giant as point-defense shots struck home. It didn’t deter Bertilak at all, which made Thorn abruptly realize he didn’t know the true combat capabilities of his ship. It was, after all, a construct, woven from magic by the understanding of an eight-year-old. What if Morgan imagined that spaceships were indestructible? Did that mean Bertilak’s ship couldn’t be destroyed?

  Another fusillade of point-defense shots slammed into the Jolly Green Giant. Bertilak responded with a prodigious blast of emerald energy, then a second, then a third. Each time, one of the point-defense batteries vanished in verdant flash. At the last moment, he pulled the Giant up relative to the station and swept over it, snapping out shots and taking out more point-defense systems along the way.