by J. N. Chaney
He’d let a flicker of annoyance creep into his manner because he really wasn’t thrilled by the idea of having his daughter standing beside him as an invisible presence, asking a bunch of questions. But that attitude instantly evaporated when he saw the look on Morgan’s face and felt the raw emotion suddenly emanating from her. She had seen something that triggered a deep, raw pain.
That Monster. That one, right there. I know her. Her name’s Falunis.
Thorn followed her finger to a shaman standing near the middle of the group.
What about her? Kira asked.
Is there something we should know about her? Thorn added.
Morgan’s face crumpled and she nodded. She choked out a sob, then pushed words through her sudden tears.
She . . . she hurt me. She was . . .one of the monsters. She killed . . . the poor alien, in the ship, the one . . . that was all alone. And she hurt me!
Thorn looked at the shaman named Falunis. As he did, rage boiled up inside him like erupting magma. He took a step forward and felt Kira do the same.
Something big and green stepped in front of him. Bertilak leaned in.
“Thorn, no. There will be a time for a reckoning. But this isn’t it,” he whispered.
Thorn clenched his fists hard enough to dig his fingernails into his palms. He might have drawn blood. He saw that Kira had been intercepted by Tanner, who was whispering to her and coaxing her back. He must have been alerted by Bertilak, who in turn must have been able to hear Morgan.
“When that time does come, then you and I shall both see justice done, I promise you that,” Bertilak hissed.
Thorn took a deep breath, held it, then let it slowly out. He stepped back into line.
The remainder of the strange ceremony-that-wasn’t played out, both the Nyctus and the other officers present seemingly unaware how close they’d come to a firsthand display of the fury of two powerful Starcasters. After a few brief words, the Nyctus were led away to their flooded quarters, while the rest of the group was dismissed by Scoville. Thorn turned to help Kira deal with Morgan, but Tanner intercepted him.
“The hell was that, Stellers?”
“Sir?”
“Do not play dumb with me. Bertilak told me that Wixcombe was about to launch herself at the Nyctus. And then he went and stopped you from doing the same thing. So, what the hell is going on?”
Thorn sighed. “Morgan recognized one of those squid bastards as one that tortured her.”
“Oh. Shit.” Tanner turned away, then back. His lips had pressed into a thin, cold line. “Not sure how you could possibly know that, but it doesn’t matter. You do. So I understand. Admire your restraint.”
“That squid is going to answer for it, sir,” Thorn said, looking at the projection of his daughter.
Kira stood, speaking with her, but to any other observer, she simply lingered, looking out a viewport into space.
“And nothing, no one, is going to prevent it,” Thorn finished.
Tanner nodded once, and sharply. “Wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.”
Thorn and Kira extracted a promise from Morgan that she wouldn’t just drop in on them unannounced. Not only could she unknowingly distract them at a critical moment, but neither of them wanted Fleet to learn she could do it. They could both well imagine what would happen if someone like Densmore found out that Morgan could essentially put her point of view anywhere she wanted it, even light-years away. She would be the ultimate spy.
The next morning, both Thorn and Kira found themselves at a loose end. They’d been ordered to the Memphis to be part of the negotiations with the Nyctus, but those negotiations had started, and they’d been left waiting around. Hurry up and wait was just how the military often worked, but it usually didn’t involve relatively senior officers, much less two of the Fleet’s most powerful Starcasters. Thorn had the sense they were being kept around for something, and it just hadn’t been revealed to them yet.
Now, he sat with Kira, drinking mediocre coffee in the forward officers’ mess, just waiting. For what, neither of them could be sure. Presumably, someone would come and get them when they needed them, but until then—
Kira nodded over Thorn’s shoulder, toward the door. “I think we’re on.”
Thorn glanced back. Tanner and Densmore had entered the mess and started directly toward them.
Both of them offered due respect to Tanner, a nod and a polite Good morning, sir. You didn’t salute in the mess. He sat down beside Thorn, while Densmore slid into place beside Kira. They waited for the Mess Steward to bring them coffee, then Tanner got straight to the point.
“Negotiations have hit an impasse,” he said.
Thorn stared. “Really? They’ve only been underway, what, two hours?”
“Long enough for the squids to draw a line in the sand that we can’t accept,” Densmore replied. “They want their Empire restored and our help fighting the Bilau.”
Kira barked out a laugh. “Is that all? How about help rebuilding their fleet? A bunch of weapons, while we’re at it?”
“They do realize that they’re losing this way, don’t they, sir?” Thorn asked.
“Nevertheless, here we are. They’ve decided to dig in on this position, one that we obviously can’t accept,” Tanner said.
Thorn stared into his cooling coffee for a moment, then looked back up.
“No.”
Densmore raised an eyebrow.
Tanner looked at him. “No, what?” he asked.
“No, they don’t get to drag us into a war, lose it, and then think they can just back out of it intact and get our help fighting and dying against the Bilau. Hell, much as I distrust the Bilau, I’d ally with them long before I agreed to that.”
He turned to Tanner. “Sir, I propose that we turn the entire Starcaster Corps loose on these assholes. Show them what angry magic can really do. They can have their empire back, alright—as pulverized gravel and dust.”
Thorn saw the coffee in his cup sloshing around. It took him a few seconds to realize it was because he was squeezing it so hard.
Tanner surprised Thorn by turning to Densmore. “Told you, Alys.” He looked back at Thorn. “She thought you’d never get around to asking us to turn you loose, Stellers. I disagreed. And now I just got twenty credits richer.” He shot a quick, smug smile at Densmore.
Kira shook her head, confused. “Sir, what are you talking about?”
“Fleet fully expected that the Nyctus would come here with some damned stupid position. The diplomats were adamant that we had to give them a chance to be reasonable, though. We did, and they weren’t, and here we are. So this is where you two come in,” Tanner said, gesturing to both Thorn and Kira.
“Commodore Tanner and I convinced Admiral Scoville that you should be here in case we need to let you off your leash,” Densmore added.
Tanner nodded. “And the leash is off. We’re going to send you two in there and let you try to convince the squids that they’re pissing into the wind.”
“You’re already a big, scary boogeyman as far as they’re concerned, so we figure we should leverage that,” Densmore said.
Thorn looked at Kira, who just offered a humorless smile back.
“When do we get started, sir?” he asked.
Tanner stood. “No time like the present. Unless you want to finish your coffee first, of course.”
Thorn strode into the meeting room, Kira and Bertilak in tow. He’d asked—actually, demanded—to have Bertilak present. Not only was the big alien intimidating just by being present, but he had a bona fide investment in what happened.
Especially whatever happened involving the squid named Falunis.
They sat down at the three chairs that had been emptied for them. Urbanek still sat at the head of the table, overseeing the proceedings, and started to introduce the three newcomers. He’d only just started speaking when one of the Nyctus interrupted.
“What is the point of having that creature present?” h
e asked, waving a tentacle toward Bertilak. “It isn’t human, so it has no—”
Bertilak stood and leaned on the table, which creaked ominously. “I am the pure will of someone you wounded, and if you leave this room without sufficient progress toward a common goal of peace, I will expend my entire existence killing every one of your race.”
If Thorn ever needed a mental go-to image for the idea of a stunned silence, he’d just remember this room, in this lingering moment.
The Nyctus named Falunis began to speak. “That is hardly an appropriate way to address a good-faith effort on our part for peace.”
“The wounded my good friend mentioned is my—excuse me, our—daughter,” Thorn said, leveling a febrile stare on Falunis. She, in turn, flashed an array of colors—first uncertainty, then anger, and then recognition, followed quickly by fear.
“You are Stellers.”
“Yeah, I am. And I’d say I’m pleased to meet you, but I’m not. I’m the exact opposite of pleased, in fact. You hurt my daughter. You know, Morgan, she who can reshape the damned universe if she wants, much like me, her father?”
He leaned closer to the table, magical potential crackling around him at the edges of perception. He didn’t care and didn’t try to rein it in.
“Stellers,” Densmore began in a warning tone, then she closed her mouth. With a resigned sigh, she waved, bidding him to continue. “You were saying?”
Thorn closed his eyes, tapping into that magical potential and reaching out across the void between the Memphis and the squid ship that had brought the delegates into the mind of its captain. He immediately sensed fear, an impending sense of terrible loss, a looming threat of destruction—and the number thirty-six. That number, he realized, bore down heavily on the captain’s mind, and for good reason. That was all the capital ships left in the Nyctus fleet. Thirty-six, and not all of those were even ready for battle. The Nyctus, as a military force, were done.
Thorn opened his eyes and aimed his gaze at Falunis. “You have thirty-six ships capable of muster, and some of those are barely serviceable. Your crews are paralyzed with fear, and you—ahh, okay, that’s what he meant. One of your captains is convinced the Bilau will seize three more worlds where he has family, draining away the water, rendering it all down to a stinking swamp and fouling the air. He thinks this will happen after the next battle, and he has said his goodbyes to them already.”
Thorn maintained his hard stare on Falunis, whose skin had dulled to a neutral gray, tentacles still. “Well, I can make that captain commit an act of war against every ship in your fleet until he’s finally shot to pieces. I can turn what remains of your navy into scrap and let the Bilau assume control of your worlds, your young, your holy places. They’ll be turned into muddy, reeking swamps before you can gather a last-ditch effort, and you know it. So the only question I have for you is this: why shouldn’t I do this, given what you did to my daughter?”
Silence fell like an asteroid impact, heavy and total. The only sound came from above, the Memphis’s air recyclers working overtime to handle so many nervous beings in one room. Thorn took advantage of it to speak to Kira, mind-to-mind, asking her to do something for him.
Falunis finally moved a tentacle, but an older Nyctus stood up.
“I am Winuk, and I hold the rank of Governor. May I speak?”
Thorn nodded without looking to his commanders. His fists rested on the table, knuckles down. Kira put a hand on his arm, her eyes narrowed in rage. Thorn wasn’t sure if she touched him to steady him, or to steady her. And Bertilak sat so still he might have been a statue—which just made him seem all the more menacing.
“Are you going to kill us all?” Winuk asked.
“No,” Thorn answered, remembering Morgan’s answer to this very question when he’d asked it of her.
Winuk’s tentacles moved in a pattern of relief, and his skin shifted from gray to pink, settling into a neutral pattern of darkened stripes. “But you will not restore our empire.”
“No.” Again, Thorn answered without looking away from the shaman.
A small buzz of activity erupted among the Nyctus, several of them muttering accusations of treachery at Falunis and at least one other shaman. Even amid the last gasps of a dying empire, factions were vying for control.
It suddenly made the Nyctus seem very human, a perception that just pissed Thorn off.
“This is, I must admit, expected. Will you allow us to defend ourselves?” Winuk asked.
Thorn shook his head. “No, because you won’t have to.”
Surprise rippled across the dermis of every Nyctus, and Thorn held up a hand. Even Tanner looked surprised, as they’d clearly wandered off the edge of the map that any of them had envisioned for Thorn’s involvement in these talks. But he didn’t care. These creatures, these Monsters, as Morgan called them, had hurt her. He was in no mood to budge even a millimeter.
“Care to inform us what your plans are here, Stellers?” Urbanek asked drily.
For her part, Densmore leaned forward, her eyes boring into Thorn. She seemed ready to step in, but she apparently realized there wasn’t any point. Thorn Stellers had taken point on these negotiations, whether anyone had intended it, or not.
He did glance at Scoville. The Admiral, though, simply leaned back in his chair, looking as though he was enjoying the show.
Thorn looked down at Kira, then to Tanner, and finally to Urbanek. Fixing Winuk with a baleful stare, he held up a hand, three fingers extended. “I recommend the following, in the spirit of mutual cooperation among our peoples.” Someone snorted on the human side of the table, while all the Nyctus flashed shades of red, alarmed and even bordering on panic at the prospect of their fate being determined by an enemy whose young had been tortured by one of their own.
“Point one. The Nyctus Empire no longer exists. Any resistance to this will result in the end of your race.”
Again, silence fell—a deep unease, followed by a discreet cough. It was Densmore.
“Uh, Stellers, perhaps we should think long and hard about proposing genocide?” she said.
“I propose nothing of the sort, ma’am. Rather, I’m proposing to inform our enemy that they will not enjoy the protection of Orbital Navy forces as the Bilau advance. The result of that is their own issue, not ours.”
“Fair enough,” Densmore said. “Your second point?”
“Neither I nor my daughter will use our abilities against any Nyctus who wish to accept a binding offer of peace. Those who refuse, though, or those who renege on that offer, are fair game.”
“Generous,” Winuk said. “We accept.”
Thorn smiled a smile as cold as the void. “I wasn’t quite done. Third, I recommend the Nyctus give back any and all territory seized from the following races—us, of course, but also the Philomek, the Astarti, the Imbrogul, and the Owath. And for good measure, any other races from whom you’ve stolen territory that we don’t happen to know about. We’ll consider them human allies until proven otherwise.”
The Nyctus erupted in a blaze of color and anger, but Bertilak silenced the room with a booming shout.
“Heed the Starcaster!” he raged, slamming a fist against a bulkhead with a metallic clang, like a struck gong.
Scoville curled his lip. “Brand new super-carrier, and the first damage it takes is from somebody punching it.”
Falunis, though, stood, tentacles moving as though she was about to ’cast, her skin flashing with uncontained rage. Winuk and others leapt out of their seats. The room, Thorn knew, was coming apart by the second. Time to yank back control.
He pointed out into space. “Look.”
“What?” Winuk asked. The uproar eased slightly, but tension still filled the room like an electric charge.
Thorn touched his talisman, shaping magic and flinging it into space as an expanding wave. “Your ship, the one called the Hidden Spring—message its captain.”
“How do you know—?” Falunis began, but her skin flashed with
brief alarm, then turned grey as ash and she fell quiet. After a moment, she spoke. “I cannot reach the captain. I cannot reach anyone on the ship.”
“No, you can’t. And as for how we knew it was there, well, you can thank Kira Wixcombe for that. See, you held her captive for a time, during which she became intimately familiar with how Nyctus minds work. There’s probably nobody in the Orbital Navy better qualified to go poking around in that filthy little cesspool of your mind, Falunis.”
“Didn’t even know I was in there, did you?” Kira asked, smiling. “Oh, and by the way, cesspool is a really good description. You’re definitely not a moralistic squid, Falunis dear.”
Thorn turned to Urbanek. “Sir, I’ve taken control of a Nyctus captain whose ship is hidden about fifty thousand klicks away, among some asteroids and heavily stealthed. I now have his weapons trained on the other Nyctus ships lurking out there. Your orders, sir?”
Urbanek regarded Falunis with amused contempt. “Okay, I knew you were full of shit, but I didn’t think you were dumb enough to actually bring ships into range of Steller’s power. I mean, what the hell were you thinking?” Urbanek looked over to Thorn. “How many ships?”
“Four, sir,” Thorn answered.
“Splash one,” Urbanek said.
Thorn gave a small nod and closed his eyes, imposing his will on the entire bridge crew of the Hidden Spring. He rendered most of them effectively catatonic, then ordered the rest—including the captain and the weapons officer, both of whom struggled futility against Thorn’s compulsion—to fire a broadside of missiles into his sister ship, the Anticyclone. Before she could even begin to react, the missiles slammed home, reducing her into a flare of glowing gas and whirling wreckage. In an instant, six hundred Nyctus died, their psychic screams tearing through space like a stellar shockwave.
“Done, sir. Now they have thirty-five. I’ll apologize to my daughter for this later, but now? It’s the right decision.” Thorn kept his eyes locked on Falunis as he said it. She radiated a palpable aura of hate-filled rage back at him. He smiled. And winked.
