Necrotech

by Chris Fox

  “He can.” Utred rapped his staff on the ground twice, offering respect. “He overcame a seasoned reaper under a veil you yourself constructed. That suggests he has the ability. He made if off the moon, despite nearly everyone on it dying. That suggests tenacity, and a will to live. He also disabled the moon’s propulsion system, and acquired a core in the process. That shows ingenuity. He can think on his feet. If we point him at our problem he will solve it, if it can be solved.”

  “All problems can be solved.” Necrotis willed the hovercouch into the air, and spun it to face the scry-screen. She’d badly wanted to add the Word to her growing armada, but that seemed an impossibility today. The question was…how best to resolve matters.

  There were a few valid options. She could contact Inura, and offer a truce. Inura wouldn’t listen, but the captain might. She seemed a pragmatic woman.

  She could simply leave without a word. That sent its own message, and it said we are enemies, but we will settle this another day. Or she could attack and overwhelm them.

  The last option was undoubtedly the smartest, were one working only with percentages. The odds that Inura could resist a full assault were slim. Flee, maybe. But fight back? Win? Almost nil. She possessed all the scales, save the tiny bunch in one surrounded corner that her father still controlled.

  Yet she’d seen Inura in his prime. He excelled at empowering others. Inura hadn’t been great. He’d made his sisters great. Virkonna, and Marid, and Nefarius, and the Earthmother had all profited from his knowledge and unrivaled skill.

  What if he performed the same magic on the people around him? What if he worked with the Confederacy? Problems, perhaps, but she was borrowing trouble from the future.

  “Neria.” She tilted the couch in her daughter’s direction. “You will stay. I charge you will harnessing the trade moon. Organize your armies, and prepare for war. Convert all you can, as quickly as you can. Expect a possible response within the week.”

  “And me?” Utred wondered. Always wondered, never demanded. She didn’t know which she hated more.

  “Lure the boy off that ship.” She zoomed toward the matrix, and the broad-shouldered man currently powering their drive. “Bring him to Sanctuary. I will go there now to prepare the way, and to finalize our accord with the unseen fleets. Our flag will change, but our power will increase. More importantly we will be merely one threat among many.”

  “You fear Inura.” Utred’s tone expressed his surprise. “Or perhaps the Confederacy. These “gods” haven’t been that for more than a year. They have no idea how to prosecute a real war. They have no idea what we are capable of. I often advise caution, but mother…Neria is right. Delaying only gives them time.”

  “Perhaps,” she allowed, and hated it. “I will present the matter to the unseen, and their council will vote. We will be on that council, and our voice will be heard.”

  “Bring me ships,” Neria sulked. “I will prepare your armies.” She slashed the air, and stepped through the tear into the spirit realm.

  Utred folded his arms, and turned back to the scry-screen. “I will bait the boy out. He will come to Sanctuary. If we are successful your caution will prove well founded, and cost us nothing. If we are wrong, though, that caution may doom us.”

  “Perhaps.” Necrotis finally smiled. “I play a patient game, but unlike my father I am an aggressive opponent. They must see us as part of a faceless mass, a threat that must be overcome as a whole. That will force the unseen fleets to leave Sanctuary, and only then will the Confederacy realize the scope of the threat.”

  “I see.” Utred scuttled a bit closer, and when he smiled she saw the boy she’d given birth to all those millennia ago. “I knew you had a stratagem. Grandfather won’t be easily overcome, but if the Confederacy attacks the unseen fleets, the ensuing war will provide all the distraction we’ll need. Again, assuming the boy is successful.”

  “Then go make him successful. I will wait until you are away before making the tear.”

  Her son scuttled away, an eager smile touching his lips, more emotion than he’d expressed in decades. She dearly hoped he didn’t grow too attached to his newest pet. But then he always did.

  And he was always heartbroken when they died.

  26

  I didn’t remember making it to bed. I didn’t remember anything after killing the assassin, now that I think about it. It took effort to raise my head from the pillow, and I realized I’d been carried back to my quarters in the Remora.

  The sheet slid off me as I sat up and noted I still wore my armor. I wondered if the HUD was repaired, but not badly enough to don my helmet. As far as I was concerned this was a day off.

  My job had been get Minister Ramachan back to the Word. I’d done that, with some extra magic, and kept my new/old boss/mom alive.

  Footsteps sounded outside my hatch, which stood wide open. Vee’s head poked in a moment later. “Oh, you’re awake. Good. Your mom wants you to report to some sort of breakfast meeting they’ve set up.”

  “Just me?” My shoulders slumped.

  “Just you.” Vee laughed and shook her head. “There’s no way you could talk me into going. I’m spending twelve glorious hours working on a schematic for a second bracelet. I’m going to use it for defense, like a spellshield, but much more versatile.”

  “That sounds a whole lot more fun and useful than politics, or worse…mingling.” I rose with a stretch. “I’ll come poke my head in when I get back. I’d love to see a prototype if you build one.”

  Vee gave one more infectious smile, then headed off in the direction of the forge.

  “Guardian, do you know where I’m supposed to report to meet the captain?” I willed my helmet to slither over my face, and gave a relieved sigh when the HUD lit up. A white line still marred the screen, but the worst of the damage had been repaired.

  “Of course, Captain. I was told you might ask. You’re to report to the Spear of Seket. The vessel is berthed nearby, making a short range teleport the most efficient means of travel.”

  “Great.” I glanced around my quarters, but couldn’t think of anything to contribute to a breakfast without some details ahead of time. I closed my eyes and willed the Word to teleport me to the Spear of Seket.

  A night’s rest had refilled my reserves, so I powered the spell myself. It felt good to flex my magical muscles, which had grown considerably in recent months. I only knew a handful of people with more than three Catalyzations—well, prior to getting more than three myself.

  I appeared in the minister’s ready room, which had been converted into a temporary officer’s mess. My mother, Minister Ramachan, and Visala were all chatting as they heaped fruit, eggs, and bacon onto their plates. It looked to be the real stuff, too, and not a soy substitute.

  Only after I’d surveyed the room did I order my mask to slither off. I was getting paranoid.

  “Jer!” My mom gave an enthusiastic wave. “Come join us before we’re interrupted by the next crisis. We’re celebrating. The enemy withdrew.”

  I gave a relieved smile and sagged wordlessly into the chair opposite my mother. A night’s sleep had done wonders, but I couldn’t shake the grogginess.

  “Have we taken steps to purge the spirits from the Word?” I scooped eggs onto a plate, and savored a bite while I awaited an answer.

  “It isn’t feasible.” My mother deflated, and I noted the bags under her eyes. I also noted the empty champagne glass next to her plate. This wasn’t breakfast for her. This was a celebratory dinner before bed. She sighed, and shook her head. “The amount of magic it would take would cripple the drive. We’d be stranded here. I had Guardian run the numbers, and then asked Visala to—”

  “I can speak for myself,” the headmistress groused. She gnawed on a piece of bacon, and her eyes never left it. “Your mother is right. Much as I hate it we cannot be rid of the spirits just yet. They infest parts of the ship, but my students have been trained to use salt lines, and are shoring up our defenses a
round the areas of the ship we control. It will be good practice for the older students to root out undead. We will retake the ship, eventually.”

  My mother blinked at that, then nodded. “Your pragmatism—”

  “Is monstrous,” I interrupted. “This isn’t a training exercise, and these are not soldiers. These are students who just survived the destruction of their world. If you’re taking volunteers, great, but you shouldn’t force kids that aren’t ready to face what’s lurking in those corridors. We don’t even know if the spirits are the worst of it. We’ve hardly explored this ship, and there could be anything out there.”

  “That I can agree with.” My mother nodded, and I settled back into my chair. She popped a piece of watermelon into her mouth, a luxury provided by the Spear’s forge. “Volunteers only. In the meantime I’d like to see if you can gather flame readers to study Necrotis’s movements. I want as much information as possible to present to Lady Voria when we arrive at Shaya.”

  “Arrive at Shaya?” I set down my fork. “I feel like I missed a strategy meeting or three. How long was I asleep?”

  “We haven’t left yet.” My mother dabbed at her cheek with a napkin. “Which brings me to your role. I need you to open a Fissure, plot a course to Shaya, and get us underway. We’re the only two people I want in that matrix, which means twelve-hour shifts.”

  I picked my fork up again, just for something to occupy me. My mother had just promoted me to first officer, without even asking, and without really offering the position.

  “I’ll take you to Shaya.” My grip tightened on the fork. All the terror, and anger, and fear that had built during my time on the moon surged through me. This time, though, I controlled it. “I agree that Confederate aid is our only real hope, and they need to know about Necrotis and the Wrath.”

  “But?” Visala raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t see her as an old woman after having faced her as a Wyrm.

  “But I gave up being captain of this vessel.” I leaned back in my chair, and fixed my mother with a firm stare. Strangely, she no longer intimidated me. “I have no official rank on this ship. I do have a rank on my ship, the Remora. Captain. I have a responsibility to my crew. After we arrive at Shaya I need to chart a course that reflects their needs. I can’t be at your beck and call simply because I’m your son.”

  My mother leaned back in her chair, mirroring my pose. Her face became an emotionless mask, though at least there wasn’t any anger, or even confusion. Beyond that I couldn’t read her.

  “You’re right.” She picked up another hunk of watermelon, and popped it in her mouth. After a moment’s thoughtful chewing she continued. “We’ve been in crisis mode for—”

  “No, he isn’t right. Don’t be preposterous.” Minister Ramachan smoothed the sleeves of her business jacket, and gone was the smiling spouse happy to be reunited after a life-and-death situation. I judged her less harshly, though, having borne the weight of life and death decisions involving others so recently. It sucked. “Jerek, respectfully, that armor is linked to the ship. If you plan to go your separate ways, then we’ll need you to relinquish the armor. You’re one of two officers, and our only fallback should something, Maker forbid, happen to your mother.”

  A brilliant glow built a few meters from the table, and resolved into Inura, as if the deity’s entrance had been timed to interrupt as dramatic a moment as possible. His wings flared behind him, and I noted he’d found time to change into elegant white clothing that draped off his wiry form. Not a good look. My dad would have lectured him to get his ass to the gym.

  “I’ve come to say goodbye.” Inura offered an elegant bow. “I am going to Voria to ask her to rally the pantheon, so we are likely to be reunited soon. In the meantime I have an…well, I’ll just come right out and ask. Do you have the key? I sent Ardaki with Admiral Kemet to keep him as far from the Spellship as possible. That need has passed. With Ardaki I can return home an equal, and can show Voria what the vessel was truly created for.”

  “And without it,” Visala slyly interjected, “you are nothing but a beggar, grandfather. A powerless beggar asking the gods with the real magic to please deal with the new threat you accidentally unleashed on the sector.”

  Inura winced as if slapped, and his guilty eyes fell to the floor. “An accurate, if a bit harsh, assessment of my current circumstances. However, I possess much in the way of knowledge. This new pantheon needs an advisor. One that remembers the last epoch from the point of view of a god.”

  In that moment I pitied him. He’d lost everything. His worshippers. His world. His own body. Any prestige or respect he’d once had.

  “Thank you for your help on the trade moon.” My words drew a grateful smile from the fallen god. “Please tell Voria that we’ll make best time through the Depths and be there as soon as we can with more evidence. Please also let her know that our vessel is infested with spirits and worse.”

  “I will.” Inura offered me a deep bow, then vanished.

  27

  I boarded the bridge of the Word of Xal the conventional way, and the walk there did loads for my confidence. There hadn’t been any guards on the bridge, but there were pairs of blue-suited cadets at every intersection leading up to it. Most were my age, or a few years younger.

  That didn’t detract from their lethality or professionalism in any way. These mages had survived the fall of Kemet, the attack of Bortel’s legions, and now wights…and worse. My mind strayed to the trio we’d saved from the bone thief. I didn’t even know their names, and they’d already headed back to Highspire Hold.

  The pair of cadets outside the door saluted as the doors slid shut and walled them off from me. Who did they think I was? I had no idea what rumors were circulating, or even who I’d ask. It wasn’t so long ago I’d been a part of the student body. Now I was alien. Separate. An adult.

  Yeah, it was weird.

  I moved to the matrix and gave a grin of anticipation. The universe looked a whole lot different after a night’s sleep. I had life magic. I’d lived. My people had lived. We had a new crew member, one I found interesting.

  The doors slid open again, and I glanced in mild surprise to see Vee enter. I ducked into the matrix as she approached, and carefully tapped each void sigil to link to the ship. I’d need void specifically to open a Fissure.

  “Mind if I watch?” Her hair bobbed behind her as a tentative smile crept onto her face. “I’ve never been through a Fissure, much less seen the Umbral Depths. Seems like this is the safest opportunity. I mean, if you don’t mind the company. We haven’t really talked since we…got off.”

  She looked away at those last words. I didn’t need to ask why. I hadn’t even begun to unpack everything we’d witnessed. All that carnage. The screams in that subway tunnel….

  “I’d love the company.” I closed my eyes briefly as the vessel bonded me. For a time I’d thought it the other way around, but more and more it felt like I was the junior partner in the relationship. “I’ve never been in the Depths either, and they worry me. If I get the course off by even a fraction of a degree…our heading could put us off the main pathways and there’s no way to recover. We’d be lost. Best case we could blind jump back to our reality and try to get our bearings, but we could come out anywhere.”

  “Or nowhere.” Vee shuddered and looked up again. “I hear some ships don’t emerge, and aren’t ever heard from again.”

  “Being aboard a Great Ship helps.” I patted the stabilizing ring. “If we tried this on the Remora I’d be a lot more terrified. I can’t imagine anything wanting to tangle with a ship this large.”

  “Pardon, Officer Jerek.” The Guardian appeared suddenly, staff in hand, though with no sparkle. “No vessel, of any size, advertises its presence in the Depths. Gods do not advertise their presences in the Depths. I would advise utter secrecy, and no major spell use while inside. As the ship is damaged, our dampening wards are weaker than they should be. If some stray magic were to leak out….”

 
“We’d be like a beacon.” Now it was my turn to shudder. “We’ll be careful, and I’ll pass the word. As long as people keep to controlled areas of the ship we should be fine.”

  “Thank you, Officer.” Guardian gave a staff sparkle, then disappeared, though it occurred to me he could hear everything and so was still present in a way.

  I focused on the Word, on feeling through its sensors. I studied the system around us, the trade moon, and the Vagrant Fleet, and the pitiful fleet that had survived Kemet’s destruction. We were so few now.

  I noted that those ships had slaved their navigation to our public beacon, a standard protocol that had existed long before Kemet. It allowed ships to follow each other through the Umbral Depths, in theory. Once we were in the black, if they got off course nothing would save them. We wouldn’t even know about it until we turned our sensors back on.

  “Okay.” I tapped all three void sigils and maneuvered the vessel to the umbral shadow behind the trade moon. “Here goes.”

  I willed the Word to create a Fissure, and the vessel responded with a spell I’d heard described countless times. None of the descriptions, none of the holo episodes, none of the games did it justice.

  A hellish purple glow began at the deepest part of the black. Then a fracture broke reality, like a magical hammer that had thudded into a stone wall, and sent cracks spiderwebbing through it.

  It veined across the black, the glow illuminating the break. In that moment I understood what the term Fissure meant. The break in reality descended into pure blackness. Darkness so imminent and total that only in that instant did I realize I’d never known true lightlessness. Not like this.

  The break I’d created was wide enough for the Word, so I guided us between the jagged purple breaks, and tried not to study them too closely. Looking at them riled up the shadows lurking in my mind after the Web of Divinity.

  The fleet drifted in our wake, but once we passed through I lost sight of them. I keyed in the sequence I’d seen countless times to power down the all non-essential systems, and to activate the protective net of wards that would cloak us from anything capable of seeing in darkness.