Tyche's Demons_A Space Opera Military Science Fiction Epic

by Richard Parry

  But it was also Osaka that marked the first day of her freedom. These drone-slash-robot things had come here and attacked them. Grace had a home team advantage. She would make them account for the error of attacking her family.

  She spared a glance at the Tyche, who’d done so much to keep them safe. Now it was Grace’s job to return the favor.

  Grace saw Hope and another person wearing Empire’s Bulwark white running for cover. She drew her sword, marching across the dusty ground. The figure clambering out of the ruins of a building stood, moving like metal brought to life. Grace pointed her blade at it, suit broadcasting her voice. “You came here to die.”

  It looked at her, then jumped off its rubble pile. It spoke in a voice without inflection. “We came here for the Engineer.”

  “That is why you will die,” said Grace. It raised its weapon, and she shook her head. She raised a hand. Grace found making physical motions helped her to focus the power of her will. Gestures made it easier to use her mind as a weapon. The Ezeroc had tortured her, broken her, and remade her into a weapon to use against her people. They hadn’t figured on one wonderful human, her Nate, willing to die so she could be free. And her freedom brought such gifts.

  Reaching out with her mind across the distance, she moved the enemy’s weapon aside. She saw it brace itself, trying to dig feet in. It was strong, fighting like a hundred men against her. It wasn’t enough, the weapon it held shearing in two, the bright flare of a power cell rupture making her eyes water.

  It bent over, hefting a rock, and threw it at her with the speed of a bullet. Grace swung her sword, the motion echoing her will, the rock batted out of the air by an invisible hand. The drone-slash-robot bent to get another rock, but Grace had had enough. She clenched her fingers, gathering it up like a toy. Grace lifted it into the air, the thing struggling against her will. “I don’t know who you are,” she said. “And I guess you don’t know who I am.”

  “Unexpected outcome,” the drone-slash-robot agreed.

  “I have a message,” said Grace. “It is the same my husband sent to the insects. We are the protectors of humanity, and if you come against us, we will fight.” She clenched her fingers tighter, the machine’s arms constricting closer in a squeal of metal. “And if you make the mistake of coming for my friends, we will destroy you, and everything you stand for.” Grace brought her hand down in a savage motion, the figure in the air slamming against the ceramicrete beneath it. She lifted her hand, raising it into the air once more, then brought it against the ground again, and again, and again, until there was nothing held in her mind’s grasp but broken metal.

  She let her hand relax, tasting blood as it trickled from her nose. Grace swayed, but Nate caught hold of her. “Easy,” he said. “Easy now.”

  Grace looked up at him. “Good timing,” she said. “You get here after the action’s over? Some white knight you are.”

  “There was this whole, uh, thing,” he said. “Before you got here. Blasters. Swords. Rockets.”

  She nodded, leaning against him. “Nate?”

  “I’m here.”

  He always was. “What were they, Nate?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” he said. “How about we make sure Kohl’s not bleeding to death, then see if we can rustle Hope up from somewhere?”

  Hope sounded good. If this was a new enemy, just a handful of ground troops capable of shooting down a military starship, then they would need all the hope they could find.

  • • •

  With the last one down, comms came back online. Whatever jamming they were using went when the last one of them became powdered metals and ceramics. Grace walked, half helping, and half helped by Nate, towards the hole in the ground that had swallowed Hope.

  On the way, they passed Kohl, sitting on a piece of rock. Dried blood was around the rent in his armor, but he looked cheerful despite the difficulty of the fight. “You okay, October?” she asked.

  “Just peachy,” he said. “I’ve had a meter of steel rammed through my gut, but you know. You should see the other guy.”

  She laughed, then sobered. “Your team?”

  “Well, that asshole Baggs is around here somewhere, and once I have the strength to stand I figure on finding him and asking what’s going on.” Kohl shrugged. “I could use a beer. Or a burger. Or both. But,” and here, he tapped his helmet, “those fucking nanowossits. Need to get scrubbed clean.”

  Nate looked around. “Baggs still isn’t here?”

  “Nope,” said Kohl.

  “You worried about that?”

  “Not really,” said Kohl. “He’s not the kind that needs babysitting.”

  Grace nodded, keeping on towards the bunker. A little past the entrance, they found El, Hope, and the Empire’s Bulwark officer. El was leaning her back against an airlock. Hope was looking at her feet. The Bulwark officer was looking between them. Grace sent a request to sync comm nets, and after it went through, she said, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” said El. She didn’t turn away from Hope.

  The Bulwark officer turned, took in Nate and Grace, and dropped to one knee in a bow. “Your majesties.”

  Grace felt Nate stiffen. “It’s just Nate,” he said. “Also, get up. Floor’s dirty.”

  The officer glanced up, then stood, fist to chest in salute. “Ottavia Turford. Empire’s Bulwark. I, uh, I’m with Engineer First Class Baedeker. Thanks for the rescue.”

  “There’s a conversation ‘Engineer First Class Baedeker’ and I need to have,” said El. “Ain’t that right, Hope?”

  “I guess,” said Hope. “I mean, maybe later.”

  “Maybe now,” said El. “In,” she squinted at Grace, “I guess about twenty minutes this place’ll be crawling with people. The Navy will rain Marines on this location, and while I like a man in uniform, they won’t be the only ones. More like her,” El jerked a thumb at Ottavia, “will come, and there will be questions. Questions, Hope, that you don’t want to answer.”

  “What’s going on?” said Grace.

  “What she said,” said Nate.

  “Umm,” said Hope. “I guess I’m working on a project? It’s not finished yet.”

  “It sure looks finished,” said El. She turned to Ottavia. “Look, don’t take this personally, but for the next ten minutes, can you go away?”

  Ottavia looked at El, then at Nate and Grace, and then at Hope. Her mouth made an O. “Family business you don’t want the spooks to know about?”

  “Something like that,” said El. “Also, I don’t know you. I had my destroyer blown up—”

  “The Troy is down?” said Nate.

  “—And,” said El, not slowing down, “when I jumped into Sol, some fucker tried to shoot me out of the sky.”

  There was a rattle of stones and shingle, and Grace spun around. Baggs arrived, panting inside his helmet. His ship suit was covered in milky green ichor. “Hey,” he said. “What’d I miss?” He turned around. “Where’s George?”

  Grace took in his suit’s state. “Hunting roaches?”

  “Got sidetracked,” he agreed, nodding. “They’re everywhere.”

  “Go see Kohl,” said Grace. “We’re good in here. And take Ottavia with you.”

  Baggs nodded. “As you say,” he said. He waited, then walked with Ottavia out of the bunker.

  Grace clicked the comm, selecting a private four-way channel. “What’s all this about?”

  “It’s what all the best stories are about,” said El, face twisted in a grimace. “True love. Life after death. Redemption.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Hope.

  “It is,” said El. “Anyway. We don’t have time. Cap. Grace. Do you trust me?”

  “With my life,” said Grace.

  “Aye, Helm,” said Nate. “What do you need?”

  “I need a box about two meters long. I need it fast, and I need only me and Hope to go in that room.” El looked at her feet. “It’ll be better this way. Because, you know, that way you won’t
be strung up for war crimes.” She eyeballed Hope. “I’ve already seen what’s in there.” Her voice softened. “And I get it. So. A box. Two meters long.”

  “Kohl’s armor crate,” said Grace.

  “I’ll get it,” said Nate.

  • • •

  Kohl’s armor crate was heavy with whatever-it-was inside it. Hope and El were at the front, and Grace and Nate had the back. Grace was sweating inside her suit. The good news, if there was a shred of it to be had in the day, was that Hope and El had come out of the airlock with the box and four drones, micro Endless fields buoying them up. They got busy with lazing nanobots off their suits, clearing an area around the Tyche’s crash site.

  When El saw the Tyche, she gasped, pulling up short. “What the hell happened?”

  “I…” started Grace, then fell quiet. She wanted to say I crashed our ship, but the words wouldn’t come out, because of the terrible size of the thing.

  “So,” said Hope. “I think I have an idea. Let’s get this inside first.” They shuffled on, carrying the crate inside the broken Tyche. The four of them worked to lash it down.

  “What’s the idea?” said Grace.

  Hope sighed. “I think the Ezeroc came here to get Engineers. I think they needed Engineers because they’re working with machines. I think the machines need Engineers because we fix things.” She shook her head, pink hair whipping inside her rig’s helmet. “I think that’s what it is.”

  “No,” said Grace. “They wanted the Engineer.”

  “What?” said Hope.

  Grace leaned against the box. “A particular, specific Engineer, Hope. That’s what it said.”

  “Hah,” said Hope. She looked at the box. “Uh. You think they wanted me.”

  “What’s in the box?” said Grace.

  “I’m more interested in why they want Hope,” said Nate.

  Grace followed Hope’s eyes to the box. “It’s because of what’s in the box, isn’t it?” said Grace.

  “It might be?” said Hope. “I mean, I don’t know how, but it might be. Also, uh. The Guild Archeology and Research Lab had all its servers taken. All the metal, gone. Pretty sure this place used to house the best knowledge on AI warfare.” She sagged. “I mean, I logged in here once or twice. Guild Liaison, right?”

  “They’ve got backups,” said El.

  “Not the point,” said Hope. “The point is, why would you want to take AI warfare research?”

  “I’d like to back up,” said Nate.

  “To which part?” said Grace.

  “The bit where Hope logged in here,” he said. “You onto something, Hope?”

  “Maybe,” said Hope, looking at her feet. Her voice sounded small and sad.

  “Been a big day,” said El. “Big, big day. What say we all get out of roach central and talk about this a little later?”

  • • •

  When the lifters arrived, the bright gold Falcon of the Empire emblazoned on their bellies, nanoweave cables falling down like spider’s silk, Grace had a thought. Did the Ezeroc, or the machines, want research or researchers? Nate was off, swearing at the troops trying to secure the Tyche, and Grace found herself with a few spare moments.

  She played back Hope’s cam footage on her HUD as military personnel moved about, securing the area. Landers deployed troops, but Grace ignored them all, focusing on the playback. She saw Hope’s view as the Engineer entered the server room. Grace paused the playback when she got to the Engineers, set up as Ezeroc food sources.

  None of them wore suits. The crack at the back of the room would have let nanobots inside, which should then have milled the people into nothing more than a residue. But the people’s bodies were fine. No swarm damage. Grace flicked the still to Nate across the comm net. “See this?”

  “What am I looking at? Roach eggs?” Nate sounded distracted.

  “No, the people who haven’t been rendered to paste.”

  There was a pause. “Now there’s a thing.”

  “Yeah.” She waited, listening.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Not sure,” said Grace, and walked back to the Tyche. She sauntered by Nate, slapping the butt of his ship suit on the way past. Entering the Tyche’s hold, empty of people, she walked up to the box. What had El said? Something about being complicit in war crimes. She pressed her hand against the lid, listening with her mind. Nothing alive inside. No noise her ears could detect, leastways not over the sounds of cables being attached to the Tyche, booted feet clambering over the outside of the hull. With a last look around to make sure she was alone, Grace keyed the case and opened it.

  Inside, there was a naked woman. Not alive, or dead, but a body nonetheless. While that was surprising, what was more surprising was Grace knew who it was.

  The body of Reiko Crous-Povilaitis lay in the case. Grace sighed, pressing her fingers to the woman’s face. Enough like flesh to pass muster. The woman in the case was a … mannequin? A model? A shell? Regardless of that, she looked how Grace remembered Reiko. Strong cheekbones. A beautiful face, somehow still able to look just a little bit haughty with her eyes closed, buck-ass naked in a case.

  Grace slid the case closed, sealing it again. This time, she locked it with a code, to ensure no one else would get it open. It was one thing for Grace to know what was in the case. She was used to lying. Grace knew the art of wearing masks and hiding things even from those who could read minds. But if Nate discovered the body of Reiko Crous-Povilaitis was in his hold, the same woman who’d set him up to die, he’d burn the body — or mannequin, or whatever it was — on general principle.

  We came here for the Engineer.

  Those things they’d fought earlier weren’t drones, or mere robots. They were sentient machines, partnered with the Ezeroc. For what purpose, Grace didn’t know. But she had an inkling of who might pull the strings of all these puppets. She keyed her comm. “Nate?”

  “Heya. No, not there! Over there. Are you blind? You’ll tear that piece right off!” He paused. “Sorry. It’s like they’ve never lifted a crashed starship before.”

  “Dad’s back in town.”

  Nate gave a longer pause. “You’re sure?”

  “No.”

  “Sounds like you’re sure.”

  “I’m pretty sure.” Grace looked around the hold. “Kazuo Gushiken has always hungered for a throne, Nate.”

  When Nate spoke, his voice was gentle. “What do you want to do?”

  “Kill him,” said Grace, then squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I don’t know.” She thought of her mother, Aya, and the hundreds of unanswered comms she’d sent over the years. Grace opened her eyes. “Find him. We need to find him.”

  “How do you think we do that?” said Nate. “Man’s made himself scarce.”

  “We have what he wants,” said Grace.

  “Hope,” said Nate. “We’ve got to keep her safe.”

  There was a crackle on the comm line. Grace frowned. “Hope?”

  “Uh,” said Hope’s voice.

  “How long have you been listening?” said Nate.

  “Not long,” said Hope. “Just to be clear, are we talking about Grace’s dad?”

  Grace sighed. “One day, Hope, we’ll get you to make us some comms that can’t be hacked.”

  “Okay,” said Hope. “Before then, though—”

  “Hope, I’ve looked in the box,” said Grace.

  “What’s in the damn box?” said Nate.

  “Nothing,” said Grace.

  “Everything,” said Hope.

  “Is it in the middle somewhere?” said Nate. There was a clang against the hull. “You idiots. No. Not there. That one. No, where I’m pointing. Look, follow my hand. There. That’s it! Good work.”

  Grace walked out of the Tyche. “Hope? We need to have a talk. All of us. But first, you and me.”

  “I know,” said Hope, sounding miserable. “Are you going to arrest me?”

  “Jesus, what’s in the fucking box?�
� said Nate. “No one will arrest you, Hope. They’ve got to get through me first.”

  “Hope, you’re safe with us. You’re always safe with us.” Grace squinted at the dusty sky outside the Tyche. “Before we show anyone what you’ve … made, I would like to know why.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE CREAKING OF the lines against the Tyche’s hull would have been soothing, if Nate was of a mind to be soothed. As it was, he was of a mind to shoot some folk, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure where to point his blaster. These days, he had people for that anyway, so all he needed was the right grim faces around and the work would get done.

  Didn’t feel right, though, so he clicked his comm on, highlighted Chad and Karkoski, and sent a message: Meet me at Guild Hall. Chad, don’t argue. Karkoski, make sure he comes and make sure you come too. Bring a gun. His comm chimed, message on route. He imagined it zipping to a relay, then firing to the nearest Guild Bridge. Once there, it would cascade out on the Guild communications network at ruinous expense, but that couldn’t be helped. The Guild had all the Bridges, and he needed his team on planet.

  That done, he went to walk the Tyche. His ship was hurting, no doubt about it. She’d been kicked hard, and kicked again, and he’d done nothing to put a gentle hand on her. First port of call was Engineering, his feet walking the familiar path along the crew deck to the ruined airlock. Daylight bathed the inside of the ship, which was a foreign sight for all parties concerned. Engineering was a dark bay, no portholes to look on the hard black, just shielding and a console and an acceleration couch for a single Engineer. The last time Engineering had been opened, peeled away like the rind of an orange, the Tyche’s old reactor was dying. Now? Reactor was, while not fine, at least unlikely to explode, killing them and everyone for klicks around. Clouds were above them as the lifters carried the Tyche away for repairs. They’d stopped for a spell at the Guild border of Osaka, scrubbing nano weapons from the hull like unwelcome lice.