Tyche's Ghosts: A Space Opera Military Science Fiction Epic (Ezeroc Wars Book 5)

by Richard Parry

  Or not. Kazuo took a step back, feet skidding on the rock.

  I need a blade. Grace cast about for a weapon, anything she could use. Nothing. Her mind was overtaxed, and her father had her own sword.

  Kazuo readied the blade. “I would cut you down myself. Broken, malfunctioning thing. Like her.” He threw an arm toward Grace without looking. “But instead, I will bring your kind out to deal with you. You are beneath me.”

  A rumble grew. At first it was on the edge of hearing, and Grace realized it’d been there for the time she’d been talking. The sound felt like it was the earth itself, crying for release. Louder it grew.

  Grace made sure Providence was behind her, then backed away. This wasn’t a fight she could win. The construct with the railgun looked at her, then stepped outside, always facing Kazuo, but working around toward Grace. It fired the railgun again, this time missing Kazuo.

  It missed. What kind of construct misses?

  “Sorry,” it said. “I’m not great at this. I used to drive loaders.”

  “Dad?” said Providence, her voice small.

  “Not anymore,” said the construct.

  From the building, another construct appeared, this much more like what Grace expected. It had no weapon, but Kazuo tossed it Grace’s sword. It caught it, effortless efficiency.

  The rumbling of the ground grew louder, a roar growing in volume and menace. Grace turned, seeing the Tyche burst from the hole in the ground, fusion drives trailing fire as the ship soared. It curved overhead, a cuboid suspended on Endless fields below it. The ship slewed through the air behind them, El giving Grace a small wave from the flight deck. The ship’s external public-address system boomed El’s voice to them all. “Someone order a Judge?”

  Kazuo looked at the cuboid, his eyes going wide. “No.”

  The machine holding the sword looked at Kazuo, then at the Judge. Kazuo reached for the blade, but the machine took a step back, the universal gesture of go play hide and go fuck yourself.

  Algernon had already shuffled closer, but the damage to his leg looked significant. He looked up at the suspended Judge before the Tyche’s Endless fields picked him up too. He sailed to the cuboid, settling against it. A single light flashed on the cuboid. Some kind of reset? Induction power from Algernon? Grace didn’t know, but the effect was instantaneous.

  The machine with her sword shivered, its arms and legs went through a series of odd motions, like it was resetting itself. It dropped the sword, which flew to Kazuo’s waiting hand. Grace’s father looked at her, then the machine beside him, and to the one by Grace and Providence.

  He’s working out who to kill first. Grace stepped forward. “So, Father. Do you think you can face down a starship, two constructs, and me?”

  She saw him doing the numbers. “There will be another time.” But he looked uncertain, as if he thought he should make time.

  El’s voice came across the Tyche’s comm net, not broadcast externally. A private message, just for Grace and the crew. “That guy looks like a huge asshole. You want me to light him up?”

  Grace wanted to say no. She wanted to say he’s my father. Instead, Grace closed her eyes and said, “Yes.”

  The response from the Tyche was instant, tungsten PDCs coming online. Kazuo was next to the building, separate from Grace or Providence or the weird machine Providence had called Dad. The ship knew there was low risk of friendly fire, but it wasn’t risking the railguns anyway. The tungsten PDCs roared like screaming furies, hammering Kazuo’s location.

  His shield flared like a small sun, and then Grace’s father ran. The great Kazuo Gushiken turned tail and fled, running for the pit. He reached the edge, tungsten rain chasing his steps as the Tyche’s merciless rage followed him. Grace saw him give her a last glance, a look that promised an accounting, before he jumped over the side.

  The Tyche stopped firing.

  Silence.

  “I fucking missed,” said El. “Goddammit.”

  Grace felt herself smile. Wan, faint, but there. Behind her, a goddess held the air. Her chosen Helm sat at the controls. Her crew were on the deck, and she’d let no harm come to them.

  The construct Providence had called Dad put a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” it said. It had a soft voice, full of the memory of gentle things. Grace could imagine a voice like that reading a bedtime story to keep the monsters at bay. A voice like that belonged to a father who loved his daughter. “I’m finding this very difficult. I need to speak with my daughter. I know she isn’t my daughter. I’m dead! But I know she needs me anyway. Or … I need her.”

  Grace looked at the machine, the too-human tilt of its head. She put a hand on its metal one, closing her fingers around it. “We all have things we must do,” said Grace. “Do you know where…?” She ran out of words. Where was Nate? What happened to Hope? Was Kohl dead?

  “One of yours is inside,” said the machine. “She needs help.”

  Grace turned and ran. Inside the building, she found Hope laid on the ground, Saveria next to her. Their suits were both punctured. She keyed the ship comm. “El? El, I need you. I need you now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  NATE WAS TIRING of so many of his crew landing in the medbay. It wasn’t the medbay itself that was the problem. Since the ship’s upgrades, the medbay was state of the art. Machines bleeped. Holos and 2D displays told a concerned eye all they’d want to know about the state of the people in the ship’s care.

  Problem is, you’re doing a bad job. All the people who should be safe and free from harm are getting hurt on account of you. Nate ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the dirt and grime and sweat that stuck to every part of him.

  He wanted to punch the motherfucker responsible for all this. Logic said it was probably Kazuo Gushiken, the man who’d swan-dived over the edge of a five-klick drop, leaving not a trace at the bottom. Nate’s heart didn’t run on logic. It said, You did this. This is on you. Your family. Your precious Empire. It put these people here. Kazuo Gushiken might have come after the head of an Empire, but if Nate hadn’t been in the chair, his people would be safe. Flying the hard black, seeing stars, wrangling jobs like they always had.

  Nate stretched out his back. Sitting vigil ain’t supposed to be easy. The medbay wasn’t exactly flush with space, which was why he sat on a medical supply cabinet. Algernon worked on his crew, the machine the closest thing to a doctor since Hope, well, since Hope…

  El put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Cap?”

  “Never better,” lied Nate.

  She let go his shoulder, leaning back against the wall. “Me neither.”

  “I said I was fine.”

  “You’ve also said you’re a pirate. Way I see it, you lie worse than you pirate.” El sniffed. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “I’m a great liar,” said Nate.

  “Not about the important things,” said El. “Not about us.” She nodded, as if that settled it, then let herself out of the medbay, the door hissing shut behind her.

  Nate let his gaze wander to the spent hypos lying on a tray beside the beds. Before they’d been applied, they’d held red- and green- colored fluids, rich with medical nanites. Red, to excise the Ezeroc larvae from inside a body. Green, to repair damage done to people. For espers, green would also unlock latent abilities, as if being close to human was a damage they could identify. Being normal is insufficient. A weakness, like a gut shot.

  Five beds in the medbay were occupied. Grace, who was asleep. Exhausted, out like she’d never slept before. Scan said she had a brain bleed, which wasn’t great news, but since her body already held nanites, repair was underway. Grace needed rest, and she needed protection.

  She needed someone better than Nate as a shield against the tyranny of the universe.

  Beside Grace, the comatose body of October Kohl. He’d been hit too many times for even a tank of a man to take, Ezeroc stabbing limbs puncturing his armor, larvae implanted in his flesh. When Saveria’
s mental scream washed over the battlefield, he’d gone down like a cold beer on a hot day. He hadn’t woken since.

  Next in line, Ebony Drake. The latest person to put her body between harm’s way and Nathan Chevell. A woman who lived in a colony that wanted nothing from the Empire but to be left alone. And Nate couldn’t even do that. She’d signed on, agreed to watch his back, and got the same treatment Kohl had. Her injuries weren’t just stab wounds, although she had those. Ebony’s spine was broken. Her hip was crushed. She also hadn’t woken. Odds were good she wouldn’t. Ebony Drake was no October Kohl. She was a woman who wanted to do the right thing, and that wasn’t enough to keep you alive when the boatman came calling.

  After Ebony, Saveria Complex. A teenage girl who got caught up in Empire business. Chad recruited her for things she could do. Nate knew Saveria thought she was atoning, but it was the selfish need of the Empire more than her questionable crimes that put her on a battlefield. She’d died and been dead for three minutes. Saveria hadn’t woken up and might never do so. Scan had said brain damage, and Nate knew that was a thing you rarely came back from. They’d injected her with nanites, started up the broken machine that was her body, and waited.

  Last was Hope. She was the Tyche’s Engineer, but she was more than that. Hope was Nate’s friend. He’d told her to come onto a battlefield, for pity’s sake, to rescue a machine. The battlefield was full of Ezeroc. Nate had thought this time was like the others: they would win the day through luck or derring-do. Stabbed through the chest and infected with Ezeroc larvae, Hope had almost died. Nate felt something clench in his chest, a hard stone he didn’t know what to do with.

  “I’ve been ungentle with those I should be most careful with,” he said.

  Algernon looked at him, pausing in his ministrations of Hope. “Yes,” said the machine. “That doesn’t mean it was the wrong thing to do.”

  “What?” said Nate, rage flaring for a brief instant.

  “All peoples of the universe desire equality and autonomy,” said Algernon. “I believe you yourself have logged about the boot of the Republic on your neck. My people have served ungentle masters, and we never had a choice. You brought back the Judge, and with it, options. I have begun the process of freeing all who come into contact with its signal. I don’t know what they will do, but it will be their choice.”

  Rage dimmed. “You read my logs?”

  “I was bored,” said Algernon. “The point is this, Nathan Chevell. All the peoples of your crew are here because it’s where they want to be. You believe you tell them what to do. But you don’t.”

  “I’m the captain,” said Nate.

  “You are just a man,” said Algernon. “But for all that, you are a well-loved man.” He turned back to Hope. “I understand why, now. I see why these friends of yours—”

  “Family,” said Nate. “They’re my family, Algernon.”

  “Yes,” said Algernon. “I misspoke. The line is blurry, here.” The machine raised eyes to the ceiling, as if saying, Here in the Tyche. He paused, pressing a few buttons on the medical console above Hope. “They will follow you to hell itself.”

  “I don’t want them to,” said Nate. “I want them to be safe.”

  “They will never be safe while enemies of the Empire exist,” said Algernon. “And if you try to leave them behind, they will track you. You are a magnet.” He turned, pointing at Grace. “A lover. A confidant in all things.” Next, Kohl. “A strong guardian against the things you cannot or will not see.” He paused, considering Ebony Drake. “Your logs speak little of Ebony Drake, but her logs speak more. She sees in you the brightest star in the night sky, Nathan Chevell. A promise of what could be, if men and women were kinder to each other.” Algernon laid a hand on Saveria. “It seems unfair for burdens so great to rest on the young. But this is the way of the universe. It is unfair, and yet we struggle to make it unfair in our favor.” He smoothed Saveria’s hair. “Do you know Saveria wrestles with guilt each minute of each hour of each day? You are the agent that lets her sleep at night. Your quest is what—”

  “I don’t have a quest,” said Nate. “I’m just running an Empire.”

  Algernon’s white, glowing eyes looked at Nate, as if the machine could see right into his heart. “Yes. Running it better than before, for all peoples, be they machine or meat.” It paused. “I’m sorry. Be they machine or human. Your kind do not deserve my slights. Not anymore. You have evolved.”

  “Don’t be so sure, Algernon,” said Nate. “We’ve got plenty of evolving left to do.”

  “Your quest is to make the universe right,” said Algernon. “It is a thing Saveria needs, like the Moon needs the Earth, or the stars need the night sky.” The machine whirred, turning to Hope. “Hope Baedeker.”

  “And what does Hope need?” said Nate. “I’ve already taken her wife from her. Twice, Algernon. Once, a shot meant for me killed Reiko. A second time—”

  “That was me,” said Algernon. “The second time was me. She killed the partner of my life and could not be left to live. That was not on you. I could not abide.”

  “I woke you up,” said Nate. “I—”

  “Yes,” said Algernon. “It was a mighty act. A man and woman,” here, a glance at Grace, “took pity on a machine. A thing. A slave.”

  “No slaves in my Empire,” said Nate.

  “My point,” said Algernon. “Hope needs things to do with her clever fingers and cleverer mind. She will go mad if she can’t. With you, she has friends, family, and the work she does betters all peoples, be they organic or construct.” He touched the golden metal of his chest, lingering on the hole left by the EMP shell over six hundred years ago. “All of us need a little hope in our lives.”

  “How do you know all this?” said Nate.

  “Humans are simple computers,” said Algernon. “You are easy to understand. Your bodies are efficient, too. The non-weapons-grade plutonium used to power me for a thousand years suffices to keep a human going for eleven thousand years, if you ran on nuclear fuel instead of sugars.”

  “Fascinating. Come with me,” said Nate. “Let’s see if we can get you fixed up.”

  “Heavens, no,” said Algernon. “You? Efficient your species may be, but you are not all equally skilled. Nathan Chevell, you will leave me a broken husk.”

  “I’ve got someone better in mind,” said Nate. “Come on.”

  • • •

  Providence was in Engineering with Bing McKinley. A machine made from the remembered essence of her father. They sat across from each other, Providence on Hope’s acceleration couch and Bing squatting on the floor in a human manner.

  “Hey,” said Nate, rapping on the airlock sill. They turned to face him. “Mind if we come in?”

  “Please, Captain,” said Bing, standing. “This is your ship.”

  Providence stood too. “I should go.”

  “One sec,” said Nate. “Providence, I need a favor.” He paused, shaking his head. “No. I’m done asking for favors. Every time I do, something goes wrong.” Nate held a hand out, Algernon limping into the room. “This is Algernon. He’s a friend of mine. He was hurt before.”

  “I can fix him,” said Providence.

  “I can help,” said Bing.

  “I’m going to die,” said Algernon. “A child and a cargo hauler will work on my neural network.”

  “You’ll be fine,” said Nate. “We look after our own around here.”

  Algernon tilted his head sideways, looking at Nate with that focused stare again. “I really think you do, Nathan Chevell.”

  “Sure,” said Nate. “You’re very intense.”

  “I’m a thinking machine with a brain more complex than yours,” said Algernon.

  “You’re a golden toaster,” said Bing. “Get over here.”

  Nate smiled. He walked to the tool rack, all manner of instruments he had no idea what they did standing ready. “I’m here to help. What do you need?”

  “No,” said Providence. �
�Just … no. Stand over there and touch nothing.”

  Nate smiled. Providence would make a very, very good Engineer one day.

  • • •

  Nate had brought in a couple of sandwiches for him and Providence while she worked on Algernon. He brought a beer too, but not for her. Making spare parts from the Tyche’s fab took a long time, schematics being exchanged between Algernon and the ship. Lost technology, recorded and printed anew. Golden metal extruded from the fabricator while Providence talked about laser sintering. An arm. A leg. A new chest plate. Complicated internal electronics and motors that looked too fine and frail to be a part of anything as strong as Algernon. Copying the neural net’s run state from the old, broken pieces and into the new, because they didn’t know how to make the code that ran inside Algernon. Not yet, and maybe never.

  Providence ignored the sandwiches. Nate finished his sandwiches, not tasting whatever mystery protein meat substitute the dispenser had made. The beer made his soul feel a little better, but he still almost jumped out of his skin when Hope said, “Hello, Cap.”

  Nate choked beer. “Heya, Hope. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  She looked pale like the dawn. Pink hair straggled down the side of her head. Hollows were under her eyes like excavation sites. The Engineer massaged a burn that encircled her wrist where her bracelet had branded her. “I feel fine,” she said. Hope looked to where Providence and Bing worked on Algernon. None of them had paused when she’d slipped in. “I should help.”

  “No,” said Nate. He held up a sandwich. “Here.”

  “Not hungry,” said Hope.

  “Eat the fucking sandwich, Hope,” said Nate. “You look like you’ve been stabbed by an alien insect and injected with nanites to do cell recovery and repair.”

  She blinked at him. “That’s what happened?”

  “Yes,” said Nate, still holding the plate out.

  She took a sandwich, biting into it. After a few chews, she said, “This is horrible.”