The Fated Stars

by Veronica Scott

  She stamped her foot on the deck. “We have this. First ship in the Tulavarran space navy.”

  Eyes widening, he was startled into an abrupt laugh. “Good point. Although we had Sectors help in capturing it and flying it.”

  “True. But right now this is Tulavarra. It’s all the home your people can lay claim to and we can’t afford to give it up easily. I’ve seen refugee camps and, believe me, the amenities and atmosphere are better than life in the slave hold but not by much. Hopeless places. Not much future.”

  “I see I have much to learn.” He leaned back in his chair and took a long swallow from his drink. “What do you advise?”

  “Command isn’t going to want to let you keep the ship, I can assure you. Command is always crazy eager to get their hands on alien tech, not to mention the AI’s data banks. But you have the secret of sweeping the Shemdylann into space to die and the ability is worth a lot. You’d better pass the word to your people to stay quiet about how you do it. Let the technique be a mystery the Sectors is avid to acquire. Pete and the others will have to explain what happened in formal debriefs, but none of them really understand what you did. So we barter for as much as we can get, either another ship—”

  “My people can’t live permanently in space,” he said. “We need nature around us, to draw upon for energy. The tiny hydroponics garden in your ship helped me, but it was nowhere near enough. As far as we can ascertain, this ship has no hydroponics at all.”

  Jaw dropping, she stared at him. “Well that’s a wrinkle I wasn’t considering. Sounds like we’d better make a deal to be located in a colony somewhere. I was thinking we’d contract our alien repelling services out to the government, earn credits. We might even be able to affiliate with the Mercenary Guild, but I’m getting way ahead of myself.”

  “You have been giving this much thought,” he said. “And I can’t tell you what joy it gives me to hear you speak of my people as yours. I know you’d had hopes we could team up as mercenaries, travel the Sectors together and right wrongs for hefty fees, and I would have been content to do so, but now everything has changed for me.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s what you’re trained for. It’s what you’re good at.”

  “My people need me – there isn’t anyone else here with the experience in running complex organizations to shepherd them through the events to come, assuming we survive to have a future.”

  She took his hand. “We’re together in this. Hell, my Valkyrie Queen can be the second ship in the Tulavarran space navy. Which reminds me, I need to get her out of impoundment before the local authorities auction her off. I’d never walk away and leave you—you need me. Without me, who’s going to make sure you conserve your own energy? Remember to take care of yourself?” Larissa leaned in and kissed him.

  Holding her, Samell searched her face, searching for the answers he sought in her eyes. “You aren’t upset? You don’t mind? Once we’re settled, life won’t be as adventurous as what you’re used to.”

  She laughed. “Funny you should mention it, but one of my friends and I were comparing notes a few weeks ago on how maybe it was time to move on from the mercenary life and look for a more steady and permanent employment.”

  “Could we bargain for your authorities to send us home to Tulavarra?”

  Head tilted, she considered. “Possibly. Do you know where it is? Can you or any of your people lay in a course for it?”

  “No, but this ship has been there. Didn’t I hear Pete tell you on the bridge the ship can navigate itself to previous destinations?”

  “Good point, if we can recover the data from the AI. But then it’s going to depend where Tulavarra is. If it’s deep in Mawreg-held space, or worse, even further away, it’s not likely we can get the authorities to authorize the journey.”

  “Then we keep this ship and take ourselves there. You could find me another pilot, I’m sure. It must be possible to establish a garden in a spaceship.” Samell finished his drink, rose, and paced.

  “Leaving aside all the dangers in the plan, Command isn’t going to let us sail away in this ship. Pete isn’t going to accept any order from me or you to head for Tulavarra right now. He’s active duty military, and his hands are tied.”

  Eyebrows raised, he stared at her. “So many negative answers. My observation of you indicates you’re not easily thwarted.”

  “I’m sorry, but the truth is important here to manage expectations. I can usually find a way over or under obstacles, especially bureaucratic ones, but I know my limits on doing end runs around authority. We’re going to have the full force of the Sectors on the other side of the bargaining table so I wanted you to be ready and know what chips you have.”

  “Larissa?” The com squawked.

  She hastened to accept the com. “What’s up? Did we get an answer back yet from Command?”

  “I wish. You’d better come to the bridge and bring Samell,” Pete said.

  It was a short walk, and they found Pete and his sergeant hovering over a space proximity display. When the captain acknowledged their arrival, his face was grim. “Mawreg,” he said pointing at the approaching blip. “The only good news is it’s a single ship, and not a large one.”

  “I guess rat bastard Kinterow really did call them in,” Larissa said. “Any response at all from the Sectors?”

  Donnie shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Send them an update, send one to Nick Jameson too, then we better get ready to fight.”

  “Can we repel them?” Samell asked.

  “I have weapons control from here,” Pete said. “Guess I’d better get familiar with those levers now. Targeting should be automatic. But it’s entirely possible the Mawreg can suppress this ship’s armament. The overlords don’t take risks, and they don’t tolerate insubordination from their client races. Sure the Shemdylann like to posture as if they’re free agents but they come to heel immediately when their Mawreg masters issue an order.”

  “I meant, can we repel them with our song if these new enemies get on board,” Samell said mildly. “What do Mawreg look like? What manner of creature are they?”

  Larissa swallowed hard. “Another fact you should probably know—most humans can’t even look directly at Mawreg. There’s something about them that can drive a human insane.”

  Samell stared at her, even as Pete and Donnie nodded. “When we go on sorties into their camps to rescue people or take the entire operation down, we have to wear helmets with special filter goggles and even then a few guys have lost their minds. Mawreg are bad ass, spooky.”

  “And we haven’t got any of those helmets here,” Donnie added. “Not a piece of tech I can whip up from spare parts either.”

  “Are you serious? I find this concept hard to grasp—how can merely gazing upon the alien can make a person lose their mind?” Samell’s voice was polite.

  “First encounter between our kind and the Mawreg was a peaceful scientific expedition, all excited to have met another spacefaring race,” Larissa said.

  “The Peronelle. Learned about it in school, in Sectors history class.” Pete confirmed the tale. “Hundreds of years ago. Luckily the humans already had a few interstellar allies and fairly soon after met the Mellureans for the first time. Now they are badass.”

  “The Peronelle survivors the Mawreg spared to tell the tale described in gruesome detail how their comrades went insane when forced to watch their hosts. The ship’s AI had vids to corroborate. The vids also showed the Mawreg eating people alive, and conducting horrific experiments on others. Apparently the aliens thought it would frighten us into surrendering and accepting their rule, but all it did was make us determined to do battle every chance we got. No truce, no quarter given.” Larissa sighed. “And the war’s been raging ever since.”

  “We need to know what’s in the damn cargo hold,” Pete said. “There won’t be anti-Mawreg assault gear, but there might be better weapons, if the Shemdylann raided the right freighters.”


  Donnie peeled off, going to the AI interface and calling up a cargo manifest. “On it. I’ll give you a report of what I find as soon as I can.”

  “How much time till the enemy arrives?” Larissa asked.

  Pete focused on the display. “Couple of hours at the most.”

  “Then it’ll depend if the Mawreg want to destroy us or board us,” Larissa said.

  There was a loud ping as an incoming com message arrived. Larissa gave all her attention to Donnie as the sergeant read the message. “From Sectors Command, battleship group on its way to you, ETA eight hours.”

  “Wow. Instant action,” Larissa said. “I wonder what lit a supernova under their ass?”

  “You apparently,” the sergeant said. “There’s a personal note from Nick Jameson to you. Want me to read it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “‘Anything for Brady Channer’s little sister. Stay frosty.’”

  “Even a galactic hero like Nick couldn’t get the military moving that fast. There must be other aspects to this situation we don’t know about,” she said, although she was pleased her private appeal must have helped shorten the response time. “So we have to hold the Mawreg scout ship off for an hour or so and pray there’s not a bigger Mawreg fleet on the way.”

  “The enemy could attempt to board at any air lock,” Pete said. “If the Mawreg go the strategic route versus blasting us open. We’ll have to have our strike team ready to move to wherever the attempt to breach is made. Lucky there’s only one Mawreg ship because we’re seriously short on trained defenders.”

  “My people will fight,” Samell said. “We have time, let us teach as many as we can how to shoot the captured energy weapons. We’re not going to stand by helpless.”

  Larissa nodded. “A good idea. I’ll volunteer for training duty. We can use the big room where I fought the mutant. Meet you there in half an hour.”

  “We will try our death song on these Mawreg,” Samell promised. “Perhaps this race of aliens is more vulnerable to the effect than the Shemdylann were.”

  “Add the strongest singers to the main strike team,” Larissa said. “If the Mawreg get on board we’re all done for, so we have to throw everything we have at them the minute they breach an air lock.”

  Three hours later, Samell waited in the broad corridor with Larissa at his side, in command of their team. Pete and Donnie D had to remain on the bridge, to take evasive maneuvers and co-ordinate operations with Larissa. The three other human males were armed and part of Samell’s party, as well as five of the most senior priests and priestesses, ready to sing the death song with him. Unfortunately, the earlier effort to drive the Shemdylann from their own vessel had exhausted many of the Tulavarrans, who were debilitated from living in space for weeks. Samell alone was at full strength, buoyed by the unaccountably vigorous energy Moratiu and her planet had shared with him. It was as if her gift was now imbued in his cells, ready to rebound after each use.

  The ship shuddered.

  “Deploying shields,” Pete reported through the ship’s coms. “Firing now.”

  Samell heard the sound of the ship’s massive energy cannons blasting at the approaching Mawreg ship. Suddenly, the roar stopped and the lights dimmed and went out. There were gasps before the auxiliary power kicked in and dim light illuminated the corridor.

  “Damn Mawreg hacked a back door into this ship’s AI,” Donnie said on the com. “Ordered ours to stand down. Afraid it’s going to be a boarding party after all, folks.”

  Larissa flicked the control on the bulkhead. “Understood. Ready to deploy wherever we’re needed.”

  “It’s a small Mawreg ship,” Pete said. “A scout, like we figured. Probably the only thing in the vicinity when Kinterow made his call. One, maybe two Mawreg crew. Possibly a few Chimmer.”

  “Those we can kill,” Larissa said. “They fall a lot more easily than the Mawreg. The enemy might have battle robos too.”

  “Working to try to block the Mawreg from the AI,” Donnie updated his status. “From what I can tell their remote control is an integral part of the software, though, so don’t hold your breath.”

  “Alarm for the main airlock in the docking bay,” Pete said, his voice even and calm. “They’re breaching the door now. Go, go, go!”

  “On our way.” Larissa flipped the safety off on her weapon and broke into a run down the corridor, heading for the access to the lower deck. She called orders over her shoulder. “Stay on me, remember to use short, controlled bursts and, whatever you do, don’t look directly at the Mawreg.”

  As he got closer to the docking bay Samell heard metallic grinding and several loud explosions. At one point, air rushed past him and the group had to pause, clinging to each other and sheltering in nooks and crannies along the corridor as dust and small debris swirled. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the wind stopped.

  “Applied a combat seal to the breach,” Larissa said, resuming her steady trot. “They don’t want to suffocate any more than we do.”

  Even though he’d seen her in action before, he was amazed at Larissa’s steely calm and matter-of-fact acceptance of each change in the situation. She adjusted her own plan without pause and moved on, and the troops instinctively followed her. He breathed a small prayer of thanks to Thuun for sending her into his fortune telling tent so many weeks ago. Then he was trotting through the corridor leading to the docking bay and all other thoughts fled his mind as he concentrated on the next task assigned to him. “Start the death song. Be sure to focus it ahead, on the enemy, so as not to affect our human allies.” Samell checked the status of his fellow Tulavarrans in the party, his heart thumping as he observed how gaunt and tired each individual was, although without exception their expressions were determined. “The opening bars, to build the power.”

  Not having gone too far, Larissa signaled for the squad to stop running and take cover. Ahead lay the closed and locked door to the landing bay. Samell tucked himself in beside her in the niche she’d selected, and knelt to check his energy weapon again, to make sure the safety was off.

  “The enemy’ll have to blow it,” she said in a tense whisper, making eye contact with each person in the ragtag unit as she spoke. “Wait for my command to open fire. And be ready to retreat—the Mawreg may throw deadly weapons in here to nullify us. Nerve gas, stun bomb, green fire—anything’s possible.”

  “Got room for a couple more?” Hugging the wall, keeping low, Pete and his sergeant came from behind, weapons at the ready, deploying next to Larissa and Samell.

  “Who’s minding the ship?” she asked.

  “No point,” Pete said, checking his weapon’s charge. “If we don’t stop them here, we’re done for.”

  “Always room for more firepower on the front lines,” she said.

  Samell reached out with his power, sensing an unusual intelligence close by, cold and calculating. He slid away from it before the other could detect him. Needing an anchor, he touched Larissa.

  She turned to him with a worried frown. “What?”

  “May Thuun watch over you,” he said, falling back on a standard blessing, too full of emotion to begin to say all his heart contained. His warrior’s concentration on the coming battle couldn’t be broken.

  Surprising him, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss against his lips with a whispered promise. “Later.”

  He adjusted his grip on his own weapon as he heard sounds at the door into the ship. He set his power free and indulged in a lengthy mental submersion in her aura, full of the beautiful pure blue flames of Thuun, laced with the red of true love. His heart clenched with longing to have as many years of peace as possible with this woman at his side. But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

  He let his powers slide toward the Mawreg again, and stopped the flow of energy just short of actually touching the creatures, for there were two, surrounded by other auras. “Two of them, with reinforcements,” he said, hoping she heard him.

  The colors and the powe
r surged in his mind, and he wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken aloud. The Mawreg were fascinating and like nothing he’d ever encountered before. Huge plates of colors slid and moved and rotated in their auras, some of which he recognized for the emotions they represented—excitement, murderous intent, cold scientific curiosity about those who would defy them—but other aspects were totally undecipherable. Colors he had no names for, representing thoughts he could never understand, didn’t want to even try comprehending. With a flash of adrenaline, he realized the Tulavarran songs would have utterly no effect on these beings.

  But I can manipulate the colors.

  The pride and satisfaction he felt at the realization scared him enough to give him caution. What if the opponents were aware of him? What if the enemy knew what he was doing?

  With a flare of adrenaline, he realized tendrils of purest black were snaking out to ensnare the colors of his soul, while he was lost in contemplating theirs. He threw a flare of gold and red out to burn the black to nothingness and settled in to fight. One of him, two of them. He knew there was no other Tulavarran left on the ship who could help him, no one with the strength left to battle these monsters. It was all on his shoulders, and he thanked Thuun for the power Moratiu had fed him.

  Samell accepted the challenge, rising to his feet because no one faced pure evil in any other way than head on. He was dimly aware a battle raged in real-time, weapons firing, enemies and allies alike falling. He reached for the pure blue flames of his warrior which blazed to surround him, even as her hand crept into his.

  As he fought to keep the Mawreg from rearranging his soul, or influencing his colors, he moved theirs, sometimes against terrific resistance, other times easily, as if certain thought combinations and emotions went together harmoniously for them. Too easy—a trap. These creatures want me to waste my energy and strength, believing myself to be succeeding.

  Samell re-evaluated, peered deeper into the maelstrom of hues and thought he detected certain unnamable colors the Mawreg were attempting to keep safely buried. They hid them under deceptively undulating plates with iridescent shimmer, as if to dazzle him. Have they or their people fought my kind before? Both beings confronting him had the same tints at their core, so he focused all his energy on those plates, attempting to color them the gray of despair, the beige of weakness, all the other colors he knew from experience and training carried vulnerability, defeat and crushing powerlessness.