Darkspace Calamity

by Christopher Bodan

  Betty’s eyes went wide at the thought that anyone could catch the princess.

  “He—Sebastian—teleported, I guess. He traded places with Rook and took the blow meant for me.” She finally looked Jeanne in the face.

  The young Paragon had turned ashen and tears streamed unnoticed over her cheeks.

  Malya added, “He did it to save me. He made it possible. I’m so sorry.”

  “He’s dead?” the Purifier asked. Malya could only nod. The paladin swallowed and blinked her eyes clear. “I—I see.”

  The paladin medics had likewise come up short, stunned by the news, but the Purifier drew herself up, smacked one on the shoulder and whistled piercingly through her teeth. “Go on. You’ve got work to do.” She looked back at Malya. “He died saving your life and allowing you to finish the mission. That sounds exactly like him. We’re—”

  Jeanne collapsed beside them. Her knees unlocked and she just sank to the stone.

  The junior who had accompanied her knelt instantly to grab her shoulders and keep her upright. “Jeanne,” he said. “Jeanne, come on.”

  The young Paragon made no response. She stared straight ahead.

  The Purifier swore, her green braids whirling as she reached down and started to haul Jeanne up. “Not now, not now, not now,” she muttered. “We’ve lost the best of us. We won’t lose all of us.” She turned to the junior paladin, now nearly bone white from his wounds and all he had just heard. “Casteen, get her up and out of here. Give me your comm first.”

  He awkwardly removed the device with his uninjured hand and pulled on Jeanne again.

  The Purifier—bloody, battered, burnt—had a look of resolved calm as she took a second to settle the comm in her ear. “Attention all Shattered Sword commands. This is Purifier Second Isabeau Durand. Command override four delta green. I am assuming control.”

  Malya felt it before she saw it, the shuddering pause that spread across the Peers like a wave as the message sank in. She looked around and hundreds of armored figures half rose or shuddered or turned to look toward this landing zone. Their First, their talisman, the warrior who had defined them, was dead. Training and devotion took over almost at once, but the sorrow and shaken confidence was palpable in the air.

  “All commands begin a phased fallback,” Isabeau went on. “Ships will lift immediately on boarding. We’re done dying here.” She switched channels and sent the recall out on the corsair frequencies as well.

  Malya turned to help the medics lift Harker from her relic and lay him on a collapsible stretcher. Caesar settled onto his Knight’s bloody abdomen, healing esper rolling off of him like water. “If we can get to the Marianne quickly,” the cypher’s voice reaching her mind weakly, “I believe I can save him.”

  She saw the medics start, surprised, and look at the cypher. “You heard the bird,” Malya said, hopping that they had. “Move like you mean it.”

  “With a will, people,” Isabeau shouted and then called over her shoulder. “Casteen!” The junior paladin had barely gotten halfway to the assault shuttle with Jeanne and looked back, concerned. “When you get in, tell the ships that we’ll need pickup under fire. Tell Captain Corvan that we’re withdrawing the fleet to one-point-five AUs and to coordinate with the pirates.”

  The young man nodded, hesitated, and frowned at her. “That’s standard blockade distance.”

  “Yes,” Isabeau replied, her eyes hard and her jaw set. “We’re not letting these bastards out of our sight.” She turned to Malya. “Get your people aboard. We’ll go straight to the Marianne. If you have any way to warn them, do it. And don’t dawdle. Ramp goes up in three minutes.”

  Betty raced off to get the crew.

  Malya nodded, slid off of Sedaris, and turned to Mr. Tomn. “Get this thing aboard. I’ll call the ship.” She glanced at Harker. “And see what you can do for him.”

  The lop-eared cypher grunted and started the relic forward. Malya turned fully around once and then directed her gaze to the highest point on the landing zone, just behind the edge of the assault shuttle’s hull. Light glinted off of the barrel of a rifle, almost like Rin winking at her. Malya actually smiled and tapped her own comm. “Come on down, Rin. We’re leaving.”

  “About bloody time,” the sniper replied. “Did we win?”

  “We’d better have,” Malya said, “considering the cost.”

  * * *

  The Lucky Chance slipped easily into the sheltered landing bay. Candy sighed, relieved in a boneless way, like every muscle had uncoiled at once. Even this unglamorous part of Cerci, first and greatest of the Alliance’s recreation worlds, had never looked so good to her. Ekona City did not have the most sophisticated port facilities on the planet, she reflected as she watched the scored and scorched concrete bay walls rise around them. But it did have the virtues of isolation and customs officials that accept almost anything you tell them. A few nimble cranes and gantries extended as they settled onto their landing struts.

  Candy glanced at Fiametta, who had slumped in the pilot’s couch as the cooldown sequences ran automatically. “You okay?”

  The wizard shrugged. “Mostly. Ask me again when we get a better idea of Kisa’s condition—and Cordelia’s, of course.”

  “Fair enough.” Candy unstrapped and stretched. They had dropped out of slip space further from the system than most ships did so as to not project a slip shadow on their approach. The nine hours of constant flying, however, had worn them both down to nubs. “So what’s your plan from here?”

  Fiametta rubbed her face. “Well, the Doctrine’s footing this bill, whether they know it or not. We need to make repairs and then get away from this ship. It stays here, quietly, in case we have to bolt quick. That won’t be possible if anyone connects us to this ship, so we need to hide somewhere well away from it.” She swiveled the chair around and eyed the Alliance Security agent. “What are you planning to do?”

  Candy rubbed her neck. “The Source is too important. I need to find a secure channel and report in, but there’s no way I’m leaving Cordelia.”

  Fiametta nodded. “Good.” She smiled at Candy’s raised eyebrow. “It would have been out of character for you to take off now. And frankly, we can use all the help we can get.”

  “Speaking of that, you said you had some favors here you could call in?”

  Fiametta’s face fell slightly. “Yeah. I suppose I should.”

  “That’s not a ringing endorsement,” Candy said.

  Motion on the dock below them caught her eye, and she turned to see a motley group approaching the Chance. Some were clearly ground crew, but four of them had the tidy, polished appearance she associated with officials. One of them seemed vaguely familiar.

  “Well, the ones that would be the most useful are also the most, um, thorny.”

  “Criminal?”

  “Oh yeah.” Fiametta chuckled. “And even though he owes me, I doubt he’ll repay the favor without getting something out of it. That’s just the way he does business.”

  “Well, we’ve got company coming now, so let’s get the docking squared away.” Candy brushed down her ship’s coveralls. She had ditched her body suit and Alliance uniform, as both were damaged beyond repair, but though the coveralls were clean, they hung on her like a burlap sack. They felt like one, too.

  Fiametta led the way down the boarding ramp, Candy just behind, and Cola scampering around her feet. The cypher had been in an increasingly good mood throughout the trip, and Candy wanted a private minute to pin the little critter down and find out why. Not likely to happen soon, she thought ruefully as they stopped and waited for the dock officials to arrive. The ground crew began scattering around to inspect and lock down the ship. The four she had pegged as suits aimed right for the women at a reasonable pace. Candy frowned, still trying to identify the leader, and she noticed Fiametta stiffen.

  “What?” she whispered to the red head.

  “Can’t be,” Fiametta muttered. “What in the empty void is he doi
ng here?” She turned as if fiddling with something on her belt and muttered, “How could he have known we were coming, and to this port? This isn’t anywhere near his usual haunts.”

  The party stopped a few paces from them, and the man in front bowed. Candy had not expected that. His ash-blond ponytail fell charmingly over his left shoulder, and he grinned widely as he straightened back up.

  “Fiametta,” he said in a smooth baritone voice. “Good to see you again.”

  “Asger Faust,” the wizard replied. “What a surprise.”

  “For me too,” Faust replied, “whether you believe it or not. I honestly was here on other business, but when I heard that the Lucky Chance was on approach, I just had to come see you.” He shrugged. “I thought you’d be coming to see me sooner or later anyway.”

  Candy stopped trying to hide her stare. She glanced from Faust to Fiametta and back, her eyes going wide.

  Fiametta noticed and grinned without humor. “Oh, of course. Asger Faust, whose reputation you doubtless know, this is Candy, special agent at large for Alliance Security. Candy, Asger.” Fiametta started, and gazed down to see Cola tugging on the wizard’s robe with an indignant expression. “Oh, ah, of course. This is Cola, Candy’s cypher.”

  Faust bowed to Candy, though not as deeply or as long as he had to Fiametta. “Charmed, of course. Always an honor to meet a Knight. These,” he gestured to the two men and the woman behind him, “are my associates. So, what brings such renowned persons to my corner of the galaxy, aside from recreation, of course?” He looked past them. “And where’s Kisa?”

  “That’s part of why we’re here,” Fiametta said firmly. “Faust, I’m calling in my favors.” He blinked and his face turned serious. “Kisa needs medical attention, and I’ve got a chee that badly needs patched up. She was—” Fiametta took a deep breath. “She was eviscerated by the noh.”

  Faust’s jaw dropped, and one of his companions blanched.

  “We fixed her up pretty well, but we need to make sure she’s okay. And then we all need to hide.”

  “From whom?”

  “Everyone. Asger, this is very important. Until we figure out what kind of trouble we’re in and how to fix it, we need to disappear.” She shrugged. “This seemed like the best place.”

  Faust nodded slowly, considering. “All right. Yes, of course I’ll help you; I owe you. But it will be tricky.”

  “We can cover the cost,” Candy began, but Faust waved that away.

  “I did not say costly, Lady Knight. I said tricky, and I meant exactly that. Cerci is not so peaceful as it was even just at the beginning of this cycle. We can shelter you while you make repairs, but perhaps Catermane is a safer place to hide.”

  Fiametta shook her head. “Not anymore. Black Diamond has invaded.”

  Faust chewed his upper lip for a second. “So it is true. Very well. I’ll do what I can. Stay here tonight. I’ll have something ready by dawn and more permanent arrangements made soon after.” His smile returned. “It’ll be, by no means, the best accommodations on our fair world, but should any of you choose to take in a race now and then—”

  “Just get us off the grid, Asger,” Fiametta said.

  “Of course,” he replied, bowing again. “I’ll send word by dawn.”

  “I don’t like this,” Candy muttered as the gangsters walked away.

  “Me neither. But I don’t have a better idea.”

  Candy fumed but shook her head. “Me neither. Come on. Let’s get out of sight and check on the patients.”

  Chapter 27

  Origin Point

  Marikan To felt strange. The portal that Tahariel had opened bore only a passing resemblance to the rifts of the noh, and the passage through it had felt wrong. She found that she missed the smell of spice and ozone, the ragged and rippling edges. This had appeared as a black shadow, almost invisible unless she looked straight at it, and seemed almost reflective at the horizon. And it was cold. Breaking its plane had felt like plunging into snow, and the brief instant she spent between here and there had stolen all her breath. She panted for a few seconds as they stood in the cave, lit only dimly by thick-growing esper crystals, and got their bearings.

  Tahariel patted the noh on her shoulder. “Sorry, should have warned you. That’s a rough passage for someone not used to it. Especially when going this far.”

  “Where are we?” Marikan hated the reedy sound of her voice in this low atmosphere.

  “An asteroid. It has no name,” Tahariel replied, turning to inspect the passages out of their small chamber. “It needs none.” She pointed to one that seemed like all the others. “That way. I can smell them.” She sniffed, as if to emphasize the point, and wrinkled her nose. “And other things. Something’s wrong.”

  “Well, yes,” Marikan To said, straightening up. She still felt like she couldn’t quite fill her lungs. “That’s why we’re here, after all.”

  Tahariel made a face but acknowledged the point. “Well, something else, then.” She beckoned, and Marikan To followed the elegant alien down the narrow tunnel. They wound through the rock in a darkness broken only by scattered blue-green esper crystals. Other crystals crunched under Marikan To’s feet or cracked and fell when Tahariel’s armor smacked into them. Lakmi flew ahead, while Cupid fluttered around behind them.

  They could hear the arguing and shouting well before they entered the larger passage. The new tunnel had clearly been modified, its sides widened and smoothed with high-energy tools, and its surfaces selectively cleared of most esper crystals. Tiny patches had already begun to grow back. The smell of ice and iron wafted strongly into Marikan To’s nose, and her head turned automatically to follow the scent. It led toward the sounds of angry voices. She shared a look with Tahariel, and they both rolled their eyes but proceeded on.

  The chamber they entered staggered Marikan To. It seemed to rise impossibly high, and every esper type pulsed through the veins in its walls. More aliens from Tahariel’s species worked in the space. Some picked over the remains of a wrecked device that Marikan To could not look at for long without feeling dizzy. A compact and powerful figure in a deep hood stood with the Herald off to one side. Marikan To thought that the Herald looked bad, clearly injured, but something beyond her wounds had done her harm.

  The center of the room, however, was the knot of figures making all the noise. Marikan had recognized Kasaro To’s voice well before she had entered the great chamber, but she had not gotten a sense of his towering rage until she saw him astride his relic and bellowing. The half-dozen priestesses accompanying him stood in a nervous semicircle behind him. The figure he berated sent an involuntary shudder through Marikan To. Tall, almost human but clearly alien, and beautiful even to her sensibilities, the regal man stood encased in a skeletal relic that brought him nearly to Kasaro To’s eye level. He chilled her, though, and as she inspected the figure with a mixture of appreciation and discomfort, she shuddered again. She felt Tahariel looking at her and turned to her friend.

  “I didn’t expect that from you,” the alien said, thoughtfully. She didn’t sound condescending or pitying, just curious, as if she had learned something interesting and filed it away for later. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  “You cannot lay this at my feet,” Kasaro To said, clearly repeating himself and tired of it.

  “If you had held the line, as you were charged to do,” the alien replied with a steely calm, “we would not now be in this situation. I don’t see how we can lay that blame anywhere else.” Marikan To bristled at the smooth tenor of his voice. Her skin crawled slightly.

  “If you were even half the warriors you claim to be,” the Kasaro snarled, “you would have prevailed.”

  “Against three Knights, two of them Relic Knights?” The alien Knight actually chuckled. “You had the resources of two dragon ships and not only could you not stop them from getting in, you could not even overrun the landing zones of a paltry few paladins, pirates, and some pit crew. We understand o
ur own limitations, slave master, as any good warrior does. We would not have asked for your assistance if we had not required it. Count on that.”

  Something pulled at Marikan To’s attention, like half-heard noises or fleeting shadows at the corner of her eyes. Tahariel shot her a questioning glance, but the Sarva shook her head.

  “It seems that is all we can count on from you,” Kasaro To declared, obviously clamping down on his anger. “You have given us precious little beyond arrogance and orders since this so-called alliance began. I see no reason why we should not take our people and depart this place. You deserve to deal with this on your own. In fact, I fail to see why we should do anything but attack you on sight.”

  The man clearly had a cutting remark or thinly veiled threat ready for this statement, but Amelial chose that moment to step forward, supported by the hooded alien, and drop her head in a bow. Even that much obviously caused her pain, and that pain came through clearly in her voice. “Lord Harbonath, I have news.”

  Harbonath took a deep breath. He never broke eye contact with Kasaro To. “Proceed, my Herald.”

  Amelial licked her lips. “The gate is repairable, but perhaps not fully. We require replacement parts that must be brought from—That must be brought in. That is not the core problem, however. It seems that, as the gate was active when the racer Knight damaged the tines, the esperic backwash has disrupted our alignment.”

  Now Harbonath’s eyes widened and glanced over to his servant.

  “None of us noticed in the heat of the battle,” she said, frowning. “But I have checked several times since, and we have definitely shifted. The esper flows are no longer properly formed here.”

  Harbonath glanced at the hooded alien supporting the Herald. The figure nodded. “It is so, my lord,” he said in a gruff, almost comforting voice. “I’ve examined the gate device myself.”