by J. N. Chaney
Good.
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. They never told me,” he finally said, both him and his voice slumping in defeat.
“What did they tell you?”
“Just to ensure that you stayed here, for as long as possible. Then they paid me. And kept paying me. They paid me a lot.” He turned to his fellows. “Tell me that none of you wouldn’t have done the same thing!”
Kira waved a dismissive hand. “I have absolutely no interest in your internal politics, so I’ll leave this to you guys to deal with. Have fun with that, Bundar.” She offered him a sweetly poisonous smile, turned and started for the door. Partway there, she stopped and glanced back.
“Oh, I’ll also be letting the Allied Stars Council know about this—how susceptible their newest ‘ally’ is to corruption, cronyism, and the influence of what we consider to be a hostile power. And then I’m going to make arrangements to get the hell out of here. And if anyone tries to stop me—well, let’s just say you’d get to find out just what a Joiner is capable of when she’s pissed. And that includes letting Thorn Stellers know about it.”
Kira grinned as she walked out of the room. From the looks on each one of the Danzur’s faces, she was pretty sure they’d all turned pale under their fur that time.
Kira hated not having the Venture back yet. She had no way of extracting herself from Danzur space. And she was damned sick of the Danzur who, despite all of their bureaucratic niceties, obviously used them to hide a rotten core of corruption. That made it easy for the Nyctus. Who needed Skins, when you could just throw some money around?
So she sat in her luxurious quarters, her attention split between the encrypted comm terminal and the door. She was waiting for a response from the Allied Stars Council on the first, and frankly expected the latter to suddenly burst open as the Danzur blew past her lone Marine bodyguard and tried to take her into custody, or worse. She could defend herself, but it wouldn’t be pretty. Hopefully, the raw existential terror Thorn had provoked in the furry little aliens would be enough to keep them at bay.
Thinking about Thorn made her consider contacting him. But she didn’t. He was far away from the ON and Allied Stars space, on some special mission, and wouldn’t be able to do much more than commiserate with her. There was only one other person she could contact in real-time.
Kira reached out with a magically-infused awareness, seeking a familiar presence in the ether. The peculiarities of this sort of remote telepathy were still not well understood. All the Starcaster Corps researchers had been able to figure out is that, for a few, select Joiners, the distance between them was irrelevant. As long as they were aware of one another, they could converse. Oh, and Thorn could do it too, of course, because he was Thorn Stellers, a Conduit, so he was adept at all forms of ’casting.
Captain Densmore? It’s Lieutenant—
Wixcombe, yes. Interestingly enough, contacting you was only two items down on my to-do list.
You were going to contact me?
Yes. Captain Tanner asked me to pass on to you that a small, discreet ship, a freighter, is on its way to join you.
He—wait. A freighter? Captain Tanner is sending a freighter? Here? Why?
Notwithstanding the importance of your current mission, it’s apparently imperative that you get to Code Nebula as soon as possible.
Why?
I’m not sure. He wouldn’t say why, only to pass this message on to you.
Kira sat back, surprised, and confused. Why would Tanner be sending a freighter for Kira? Why would he be sending any ship at all for Kira? He had nothing to do with Allied Stars diplomatic missions, even if they involved ON personnel. At least, she didn’t think he did. And why a freighter? And why did she need to get to Code Nebula?
Ma’am, is there anything else you can tell me about this? Anything at all?
I’m afraid not. You now know what I know. And, yes, I realize that I’m not exactly the most honest and forthcoming person around, and stop rolling your eyes at that, Wixcombe. But I am being entirely honest when I tell you, I don’t know anything more.
Kira allowed herself a thoughtful frown. A part of her, albeit a small and deep one, still wondered if Densmore might have been influenced by the Nyctus. Unlike Thorn, she seriously doubted it, but couldn’t make the idea go away completely. But even if she wasn’t, Densmore still lived in a murky world that was really nothing but lies and obfuscation. It was just what she did, being a key player in the shadowy realm of covert ops.
She finally decided Densmore wasn’t lying. The woman was a powerful Joiner, but so was she. She sensed not even a whiff of falsehood about any of this.
I believe you, ma’am. And, thank you. I’ll just wait here and hope nothing blows up with the Danzur before the freighter gets here.
Is there a problem, Wixcombe?
She explained what had happened with Bundar and his being on the take with the Nyctus. Densmore surprised her by laughing.
That’s actually terrific news.
Sorry, it’s terrific news that the Danzur are prone to corruption and duplicity?
Absolutely! It means they’re not very different from we humans. Oh, and it also creates all sorts of opportunities for us to start getting some levers wedged into their power structure. We’ll have to find a chance for you to tell me all about it.
This time, Kira couldn’t help chuckling. It figured that a spy would find sleazy double-dealing something to celebrate.
The Danzur did finally show up at Kira’s door. It wasn’t some armed delegation coming to arrest her, or do whatever other unpleasant things her imagination had conjured up, though. It was an older Danzur, who introduced herself as Grastir. She was, apparently, Bundar’s boss’s boss. This actually made her the most senior Danzur she’d yet encountered, aside from formal and brief pro forma introductions to several Danzur muckety-mucks, which were just diplomatic niceties.
“Please, come in,” Kira said, raising her eyebrows a little more at the fact that no cloud of sycophants trailed her into the room. She was actually alone.
She stopped in the middle of the room. “Thank you, Kira Wixcombe. I won’t keep you long. I have come to apologize on behalf of the Danzur Sovereignty for recent events.”
“You mean Bundar taking bribes from the Nyctus to keep me tied up here.”
Grastir offered the Danzur equivalent of a smile. “You’re very direct. I like that. Yes, because of that.”
Kira smiled back. “Well, I appreciate the apology.” She’d intended to leave it at that, but thought, what the hell.
“How about making it up to me, and to the Allied Stars?” Kira asked.
Grastir’s eyes narrowed. “What did you have in mind?”
“Bundar was obviously dragging his feet, when it came to actually accomplishing anything here. That includes the most important thing our two races could accomplish, which is full diplomatic relations. So how about we cut through all of the nonsense, and just agree to do it? We’ll exchange Ambassadors, set up Embassies in each other’s territories, and then get to work on border issues, trade agreements, all of that sort of thing.”
“Since getting such an agreement was your primary purpose here, I sense that you want to get it done with and get back home.”
“I don’t think I’m the only direct one in this room,” Kira said, smiling again.
“Indeed not. How do you think I got to where I am?”
“By cutting through the bullshit that your people seem to get so fixated on?”
“Exactly.”
“Alright. Yes. I want to get back home. I’m a soldier, not a diplomat. I want to get back home, and get on with helping the ON deal with the Nyctus,” Kira said.
“I understand.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Again, Grastir smiled. “My apologies. I may be direct for a Danzur, but I’m still a Danzur. Process and protocol is hardwired into me. To answer your question, yes—we would be pleased to exchange
diplomatic missions with you. You may inform your superiors of that, and invite them to contact me directly to work out the details.”
The Danzur raised a paw. “However, be aware that we will also be maintaining our diplomatic relationship with the Nyctus as well. They do border our space, after all, so remaining on at least neutral terms with them is important to us.”
“Understood. And if they do cause trouble for you, just let us know.”
“They won’t, as long as the trade between our two species remains lucrative.”
“That’s all we can ask for, then, I guess,” Kira said.
“Very well, Kira Wixcombe. I have other matters to attend to, so I have to take my leave.”
Grastir headed for the door. Kira followed her.
“Why couldn’t I have been dealing with you from the beginning, Grastir? It would have made things so much easier,” Kira said, her smile genuine.
Grastir stopped and turned back. “Again, we’re Danzur. What we do is what we do. It’s in our nature. Goodbye, Kira Wixcombe.”
As Grastir left, Kira’s Marine escort stepped into the room. “Ma’am, we just got word from the Danzur that a ship has entered the system. The pilot is asking for you.”
Kira whistled. “That’ll be our ride. Must be one hell of a fast freighter, though.”
The Marine looked puzzled. “Freighter? I’m no expert, ma’am, but that’s no freighter out there.”
Kira settled into the crash-couch and grinned, grateful. She hadn’t realized just how tense she had been, pretty much the whole time she’d been here, with the Danzur.
She turned to the pilot. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Mol.”
Mol gave her a thumbs up. “No problem, ma’am. If everyone’s settled in, we’ll get this show on the road.”
The Marine, and the Allied Stars bureaucrat who’d been acting as her aide, both signaled affirmative from where they were strapped into the back of the cabin. Mol cleared their departure from the Danzur’s orbital platform, backed the Gyrfalcon away, then spun it about and headed for deep space.
“I was told you were a freighter,” Kira said.
“Yeah, cover story to keep things on the down-low. We even spoofed our transponder to a civilian code. Captain Tanner gave his say-so on it.”
“Okay, so something’s up, Mol. What the hell is it? What’s going on that’s so urgent?”
“Honestly, ma’am, not sure. Something important, but I’m not cut into the loop. I’m just the driver,” Mol replied.
Kira scowled. She was going to have to keep waiting for an explanation, it seemed. Still, though, knowing that the Danzur were falling away behind her by the second made it a lot easier to handle.
So Kira turned her glower back into that relaxed smile. “Okay then, driver. Code Nebula, as hard you can burn.”
Mol’s fingers flew over the controls. “You heard the woman, Trixie. Best possible speed, and go!”
19
Morgan could feel the Monsters. They radiated anger and aggression and resentment, and a grim purpose that was focused entirely on her. They weren’t even trying to conceal it, or shield the ruthless malevolence of their approach to her hiding place. The relentlessly dark emotions just kept growing in intensity, until the water turned bitter with the taste of them.
She reached out with her thoughts, and swept her sorcerous gaze over them like a sunbeam. Her heart began to pound. There were so many of them. An army of them, all coming for her. Sixteen of them had the psychic feel of shamans, powerful ones, like the elder shaman she’d come to know on Tāmtu. But there were twice that many Monsters again, of a sort Morgan had never encountered before. They felt different from the shamans, not beacons of magical potential readying themselves for release, but something else. Still beacons, but not magical. Points of cold, merciless resolve, and absolute certainty in their purpose. They were soldiers, but like no soldiers Morgan had encountered among the Radiants or the Monsters.
An army. How could she hope to stand against an army? And alone?
She stopped. Wait. She wasn’t alone.
When the Monsters had taken her back to the city, after killing the poor creature trapped in the crashed ship, some little warning had sounded in her head. It was like hearing someone screaming, but far away, right on the very edge of hearing. She hadn’t known what it was then. Now, she realized she was screaming at herself, some deep part of her warning her that these Nyctus weren’t nice, weren’t her friends and, most of all, didn’t even intend to be her friends. They only wanted her for one reason.
To kill her father, Thorn Stellers.
After that, she knew, they wouldn’t need her anymore. It was why she’d blown open the wall of the tower and fled, but it was also why she’d done something else. She made Mister Starman go away.
Falunis had asked her about the doll once. She’d shrugged and said she’d rid herself of it, thrown it away, because she didn’t like him or want him anymore. That seemed to please Falunis, because it played right into her desire to have Morgan finally turn on her father and kill him. She was rejecting Mister Starman, casting him away like she’d done back on Tāmtu.
“I don’t need him anymore,” she’d said, and Falunis had just flashed her satisfied agreement.
But he wasn’t gone. Not really. Morgan concentrated, funneled magic through the determined focus of her thoughts, then used that fusion of mind and mystical power to go back in time to where she’d placed him, neatly tucked away under the roots of a sourfruit tree on Nebo.
It wasn’t like trying to pull the Pool of Stars forward through time. This was simpler, and there also weren’t any people involved, like there’d been aboard the ship. Mister Starman was quite happy to rejoin her now, flopping loosely into her grip as she pulled him through the years. Nothing really ever bothered Mister Starman. No matter what was happening, he smiled his cheery smile.
Even facing an army of Monsters didn’t disturb him. That made her feel better. If Mister Starman could be brave enough to smile in the face of terrible danger, then so could she.
“We’re ready for them, Mister Starman, aren’t we?”
His smile assured her that he was, indeed, ready.
Morgan turned to face the entrance to the tunnel. She bit her lip. Maybe she should go out there, and face them in a place where she wasn’t trapped, and had only mysterious skeletons for company. But that didn’t make sense. In here, the Monsters could only come at her from one direction. And if she really needed to, she could always escape, just by not being in the tunnel anymore.
That made her wonder if she could go even further away. She could go to Tāmtu, or even Nebo, both places she knew.
“Can I, Mister Starman? Can I do that? Can I just go wherever I want, to where the Monsters won’t be able to find me?”
Mister Starman smiled at the idea, but Morgan felt a bit of a mocking edge to it, like the whole idea was just dumb. And maybe it was. It wouldn’t be easy, and right before the Monsters tried to attack her wouldn’t be the time to try it.
So she kept herself resolutely facing back up the tunnel, waiting for the Monsters, and trying to ignore the unpleasant, clenching tightness in her chest. It was fear, she knew, but she’d been scared before.
She waited. She could feel the Monsters moving around, mostly outside the tunnel mouth. Some, though, had swum past the cave opening, and were exploring the rocky ridge into which it was set. They were seeing if she had another way out, or if they had another way of getting in. She glanced behind her, into the darkness. This tunnel, this lava tube, could be hundreds of meters long. Thousands. And it might not lead anywhere except into the guts of some slumbering volcano—
She felt sudden movement at the cave mouth, and spun back.
A sudden rush of the soldiers, a tight formation of six, charging at her. They swept forward with a sinister grace, their movements perfectly coordinated as they dodged and wove around the irregularities in the tunnel. More soldiers follow
ed them.
Morgan curled her lip. That was it? They were just going to come straight at her, like fish in a tank.
“Mister Starman, let’s make them go away,” she hissed. His eyes immediately began to flicker, and then shine with a steady, blue light. It washed over the rock around her, lit the ancient bones, surrounding her in a nimbus of humming azure power.
Before she could focus her thoughts, and the power through them, though, the shamans struck.
From all around her, hammers of water suddenly thundered in, all meant to converge on her. Because she’d already found her blue power and had it ready, she was able to fling a wall of denial up around her, into which the hammers crashed. They struck with enormous force, making Morgan wince with the effort of denying them. Then they struck again. And again.
Every second, the soldiers raced closer.
Morgan let out a snarl of rage at how well this simple tactic was working. But she wasn’t done. Far from it.
Morgan released her defensive wall, at the same time causing herself to shoot between and among the hammers of water, her smallness and agility letting her dodge them. It took a moment for the shamans to reorient themselves, enough that she could lash out with sharp spears of power, piercing the brains of three of the soldiers, one coming up the tunnel and two still outside. It took more effort than she expected; a lot more. They weren’t themselves shamans, these soldiers, but were either protected by them, or had some other way of blunting her power. But it only made what she wanted to do harder, not impossible. Behind the tip of each psychic spear came its true effect, an undeniable compulsion.
The ones beside you, they’re bad, they’re not your friends, they want to hurt you, they want to kill you, they’re the most awful, stinky, terrible thing in the whole universe!
One of the soldiers now only a few seconds away suddenly turned, lashing out with its weapon, a nasty, hooked blade on a short staff. The inside curve of the hook was dull, because it was intended to catch and hold things. The outside curve, though, had a razor-keen edge. The Monster-soldier’s target actually started to react, so fast were its reflexes, but not quick enough. The water turned murky with blood, jetting and dissolving in small currents as the soldiers fought and died.
