by J. N. Chaney
Mol kept the Gyrfalcon boring in, its drive still burning at full combat power.
“We’re past the point of no return here, boss. If you can’t stop us, I’m going to have to follow Bertilak so we don’t just slam into this station,” Mol snapped.
Thorn nodded. The right way to do this would be to burn halfway to the station, then flip around and burn in the opposite direction for the second half of the trip. That would have taken at least a couple of hours from Thorn’s ending the Shade effect. By just burning straight in the whole way, it meant the Gyrfalcon took only minutes to make the trip. Of course, it also meant the fighter zipped along at almost twenty klicks per second, which would make it a truly devastating projectile when it hit the station.
But that wasn’t the plan. This was.
Thorn again closed his eyes and again pulled magic up from the reservoir dammed behind his talisman, then he flung his consciousness away from the Gyrfalcon and into the void ahead of them. The fighter was going to impact the station in about thirty seconds.
“Here we go,” he said.
Mol cinched her harness. “Brace, brace, brace!”
Thorn concentrated, once more enveloping the Gyrfalcon in magic. At the same time, he felt Austin drop the Castle effect she’d wrapped around the fighter. This time, though, he used it like a sort of Alcubierre bubble of Hammer magic, bleeding the fighter’s enormous kinetic energy off of it and into normal space. It wasn’t perfect, though, and some residual inertia remained, flinging them hard against their crash harnesses. Thorn gritted his teeth. He had to keep the little volume of space inside his magical bubble stationary with respect to the Gyrfalcon, while shedding her velocity into the space outside of it.
He got it mostly right. A glowing halo of displaced dust and gas molecules enveloped the fighter and its little pocket of stationary space. Inside it, the fighter surged, rattled, and shuddered, stray accelerations slamming them back and forth, side-to-side. The station loomed ever closer.
“Uh, Thorn? Stopping us any time would be good,” Mol said.
Thorn doggedly kept up the effect, slowing the Gyrfalcon even more. Now the station was only ten klicks away. Five. One.
The Gyrfalcon came almost to a stop relative to the station, and Thorn let his Hammer magic dissipate like smoke. They slid slowly toward its metallic flank, now only a few hundred meters away.
“Looks like an airlock, Mol, about twenty meters to our left,” Thorn said, pointing.
Mol nodded and tapped at the controls, nudging the fighter in the direction Thorn had indicated. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to squid station. Please remain seated until the Gyrfalcon has come to a complete stop, which”—she loosed a final, single puff from the nose thruster—“it has.”
The Tiger Team was already swinging into action, but with little fanfare or even noise. Each member of her Team carried themselves with a quiet, clipped efficiency, communicating through hand signals, backed up by only the occasional snippet of orders. To save time, Mol decompressed the Gyrfalcon’s cabin so the Tiger Team could just open and pass through the airlock. Hand jets puffed as they crossed the short distance from the fighter to the looming wall of the station’s hull. And short distance was right, Thorn thought as he clambered into his place in line. From the Gyrfalcon’s open airlock to the hull was maybe ten meters across, and five meters beneath the fighter.
He indulged himself in a brief moment of pride. Ten meters. Not bad, considering just a few minutes ago, their velocity had been measured in kilometers per second.
“Fire in the hole!”
The first Tiger Team troopers had placed a rectangular breaching charge against what looked like an airlock. An instant after the call over the comm, a dull flash pulsed around it, accompanied by a spray of fragments. Thorn felt something snap against his vac-armor. Detonating the charge with everyone so close to it was risky, but sometimes safety measures had to be pushed in the interest of not floating around outside a squid installation.
The two lead troopers yanked the hatch open, then flung it off in a direction that wouldn’t hit the Gyrfalcon. Thorn had already braced himself for a rush of water in case the station was, at least in part, filled with the stuff. That was the reason for keeping the Gyrfalcon above the hatch, so a deluge of water and ice didn’t cascade straight into the fighter’s airlock. But there was only a brief gust of mist as air vented from the opening. Two more Tiger Team members immediately entered, taking the lead.
“Okay, Thorn, you’re on,” Alix said.
Thorn knew the lead troopers would face the squid airlock’s inner hatch. If they just blew that, they might decompress a big chunk of the station, which would be fatal to any humans aboard it. To prevent that, he reached out with Tempest magic, holding the air on the far side of the inner hatch in place. He held the ’casting until the hatch had been breached, they’d all entered, and the hatch had been reseated and sealed with expanding foam.
“Leaks some, but it’ll do,” Alix said, tapping Thorn’s helmet.
He released the ’casting. Sure enough, a shrill whistle of escaping atmosphere sliced the air around him.
Alix’s helmet bumped against his. “Where to?”
Thorn summoned magic again, this time crafting it with Joining magic into an expanding wave of awareness. His perception swept across human minds, especially off to his right, where they seemed to be clustered. He touched squid minds, too, including those of two shamans, recognizable by the opaque walls of denial enclosing their thoughts. Neither of them seemed at all interested in confrontation, though. In fact, a large contingent of Nyctus, some twenty in all, were in the process of hastily evacuating the station and boarding the corvette-sized ship docked on the other side of the circular station.
Thorn pointed to their right, toward the group of humans. But he held his place a moment as the Tiger Team started to move. He focused on one of the shamans, but not to try breaking through his mental defenses. Instead, he pressed with just enough to commit the particular feel of this squid’s mind, the distinctive ridges and peaks and valleys of his psyche, to his memory. He then infused the memory with magic, and, drawing on his experience with the Witch Nebula, turned that into a persistent tag in his own mind. Thorn now had a link to the shaman, which should endure more or less indefinitely—at the cost of always being vaguely aware of where this particular squid was.
Alix’s face appeared in front of his, her eyes hard with concern through her helmet’s faceplate. She made a shrugging gesture, which said, what’s wrong?
He just nodded back, gave a thumbs up, and pointed ahead of them.
Nothing. Let’s just go.
Alix returned his thumbs-up, then moved back into her slot in the Tiger Team’s formation. She raised her hand and swept it forward, and they all began to advance.
Thorn winced as whirling, shuriken-like blades clanged against the bulkhead behind him. The squid doing the shooting ducked behind a console, but not before Toff, currently on point, snapped back a burst of fire. The frangible rounds, intended to shatter on impact and minimize collateral damage, exploded into clouds of tiny fragments against the far bulkhead. Another trooper raised his own weapon, which sported an underslung grenade launcher. It coughed out a seeker round, which sailed over the console and detonated downward as it passed over the hidden squid. Seeker grenades were a new addition to the arsenal, specifically designed to detonate only in close proximity to a squid. Thorn had no idea how they functioned, but that was fine—he didn’t need to know. He only had to see the spray of gore meaning that the grenade worked.
The Tiger Team resumed their relentless advance. They’d only encountered a half-dozen squids who offered any resistance at all. The rest seemed content to focus on their panicked flight from the station. It suggested that most of them weren’t warriors, which made sense. This Glorious Horizon Processing Home probably mostly employed squid scientists, techs, and medical types. That only made them even more vile, as far as Thorn was concerned
. At least warriors were prepared to put their lives on the line, and he could muster some respect for that. The rest of them were little more than glorified torturers, and deserved no consideration at all.
More shooting ahead. The lead element of the Tiger Team had reached a new section of the station, one shut away behind heavy blast doors. No amount of explosive would breach them, not without blowing apart this whole section of the station.
“Thorn, a little help,” Alix said.
He moved forward. The Tiger Team could eventually hack the doors’ control system, but they didn’t have the time. He waved the troopers back into cover, then called up magic and shaped it into a Hammer effect, a simple battering ram. Thorn gave himself an extra moment to pour power into his ’casting, so much that the air began to shimmer and crackle around the effect.
As soon as his control started to slip, Thorn looked at his hand, then punched it at the doors. The Hammer-ram shot forward and slammed into the doors with an immense clang, ripping them from their mounts. One topped into the space beyond with a heavy, metallic boom. Pieces of hatch coaming and the doors’ mechanism were flung into the compartment beyond like shrapnel.
Before the last fragments of debris had landed, Tiger Team Three was already on the move. Crouching, weapons raised, they pushed past the ruined doors. Another burst of fire from beyond. Another. Thorn tensed and ran forward, magic simmering in his talisman. If there was a sizable military contingent on the station and they’d just found it, the Tiger Team might be in trouble.
When he reached the doors, though, he found several dead squids, their bodies peppered with frangible rounds. A few blade-pistols lay on the deck near them, but these weren’t warriors. They weren’t bulky enough and had no body armor. Instead, they bore harnesses festooned with a variety of sinister-looking tools.
Toff, who’d led the way in, joined Alix beside Thorn. “Got here in time to see these bastards picking themselves up. Well, except for that guy,” he said, jerking his head toward one of the fallen blast doors. It had apparently slammed into a squid, knocked him over, then landed squarely on top of him. Viscous fluids oozed from the squashed corpse.
“Didn’t want them to retrieve those guns, so we shot them,” Toff went on. He might have been describing how to make a bed or tie your shoes, for all the emotion in his voice.
“Clear!”
The lead elements of the Tiger Team filtered back to report. Another compartment, similar to this one, sprawled behind a set of open blast doors, and another after that. Thorn stood and walked to one of the side compartments.
Then he stopped, rooted to the spot.
And just stared for a moment.
Alix stepped up beside him. “What did you find—?” she started, then she stopped and just stared, too.
“Oh, shit.”
Thorn wasn’t even sure which one of them had said it.
11
“That’s right, sir. We retrieved sixteen humans in the process of being turned into Skins from the squid station,” Tanner said.
On the comm screen, Admiral Scoville leaned forward. “Your report was thin on details about that, Captain Tanner. What does ‘in the process of being turned into Skins’ mean, exactly? We’ve got a lot of people really interested in that particular question.”
Tanner looked up from his briefing desk, at Thorn. “Lieutenant Stellers was on the scene. He’ll need to be fully debriefed, but in the meantime, maybe he has some insight to offer.”
“It’s a horror show, Admiral,” was all Thorn said.
Scoville’s eyes met Thorn’s, and his mouth opened. But he seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say and just nodded. “Understood. I’ll wait for the full debriefing. Besides, those interested people have the imagery and other data you’ve already transmitted, so that oughta keep them busy.” He glanced off-screen, then turned back.
“Now, what’s this about tracking the squid ship that escaped from that station? Do I gather there was some magic employed?” Scoville asked.
Thorn glanced at Tanner, who just gestured at the comm screen. “Yes, sir. I actually tagged a shaman aboard that ship, not the ship itself. It was still enough for me to get a sense of where they were going. I can’t say exactly where it is, but those squids were making a run for a nearby system, where they figured they’d be safe.”
“Probably a military installation. Strange they didn’t have their—what did you call it? Glorious Horizon Processing Home?” The Admiral scowled. “One hell of a name. Anyway, strange they didn’t have it better protected, given its sensitivity.”
“They probably figured its remote location in their space, and its obscurity, was its best protection,” Tanner said.
Thorn cleared his throat. “Sir, that system, the one the squids were running for? It’s a swamp planet. The shaman wasn’t happy about that because it used to be something much more. I think it might have been a major hub for the Nyctus once.”
“So our unknown friends must have seized it and started dewatering it, the same way they did those other planets you investigated,” Scoville said.
“And then the squids were able to take it back, but by then the damage was done. Yes, that’s our thinking, Admiral,” Tanner said.
“Bottom line is that the squids are desperate, sir. Who or whatever is taking their worlds and terraforming the water away has got them running scared,” Thorn said.
“You got that from that shaman, too?” Scoville asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“That could be handy. Kind of like having a Skin of our own among their ranks.”
“That’s true, sir, but it won’t last, unfortunately. I was able to hook myself into the shaman’s mind based on how it was shaped, then. But as he experiences new things, has new thoughts, and forms new memories, that shape is going to change. The link is already starting to fade. I expect it will just peter out completely in another day or two.”
“Shame. Still, that could be a useful little technique for our Starcasters to use. Stellers, make sure you document that when you get debriefed,” Scoville said.
“Aye, sir.”
“Meantime, Captain Tanner, I want the Hecate back here at Code Gauntlet, and soon. We need to get those poor bastards you rescued into treatment.”
“Not to mention starting to study them,” Thorn muttered, but Scoville just shrugged.
“Damned right. The best way to dissuade the squids from making anymore Skins is to figure out how they do it, and how we can detect and undo it.”
Thorn just nodded. When Scoville signed off, he turned to Tanner.
“Sir, some of those people we rescued—”
“Are too far gone. I know.”
“But some aren’t. Since we’ve got a few days before we reach Code Gauntlet, I’d like to try talking to those ones, see what I can find out.”
“Risks?”
“More to them, sir, than us.”
Tanner looked back at the comm screen, which was now just displaying the ON logo. He stared at it for a moment, then turned back to Thorn.
“Okay, do it. The more we find out, and the sooner we do it, the better.”
“I have one other request, sir?”
“I’d like the use of a dedicated, high-bandwidth comm channel, with signals priority over other traffic.”
“That’s quite the ask, Stellers. Mind if I ask why?”
“Because I know someone that might be able to help me out.”
“Thorn, I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m no interrogator,” Damien said.
Thorn smiled at the comm screen that had been set up in the Hecate’s midships cargo hold. The compartment was empty except for bins of trash that couldn’t be recycled, and would be dumped at her next port-of-call. It was probably the least critical part of the ship. “I’ve seen you in action, Damien. Seems to me that diplomacy and interrogation have a lot in common. After all, you’re trying to dig into someone’s motivations and then use that to ma
nipulate them, right?”
“Manipulate is a pretty strong word. Better to call it influencing,” Damien said, then stopped, grinned, and shook his head. “Nah, I take that back. Manipulation is really what it is, yeah. But why not just get on the line with a professional interrogator? ON intelligence must have at least a few of those.”
“We do, and they’ll get their turn with these people. I’d like to try having someone who’s specifically not a military interrogator be part of it.”
Damien leaned back. He was aboard the Venture, having used it to get within the twenty-five-light-year limit for real-time comms. Except for a single Marine and a diplomatic aide, that left Kira alone with the Danzur. That didn’t thrill Thorn, but Damien had just waved aside his concerns.
“Ever since you threatened to wipe them from existence if they didn’t behave, they’ve gone out of their way to portray themselves as not being a threat to Kira or anyone else in our delegation. If Kira’s in any danger, it’s from smashing her head against the walls of Danzur procedure,” Damien had said, putting air-quotes around procedure.
“Well, you had Kira send me all this way, so I might as well give a whirl,” Damien finally said.
“Thank you. I’ve got one of the people we rescued standing by. His name is Anton Ignatius. He was an engineer aboard the light cruiser Uluru, which was reported missing and assumed destroyed while patrolling the Zone a few months back,” Thorn said. He gestured to the Marine standing near the hatch. The woman nodded, turned, and left. A moment later, she reentered with two more Marines, escorting a shackled man with a round face, receding hairline, and protruding ears that must have made his life hell as a kid.
Anton Ignatius, age thirty-two, Junior Petty Officer, a Propulsion Engineer of middling ability and limited promotion prospects. His ON personnel file didn’t say much more about him other than that, aside from the usual tombstone information about where he’d been born, date joined, courses completed and the like.
