Tyche's Flight (Tyche's Journey Book 1)

by Richard Parry

  “I know,” said Hope, looking at Kohl. “I wonder whether we got all the things that needed killing.”

  “Huh,” said Grace. She wondered whether she should say I won’t let him do whatever it is you fear, but she wondered if she’d be lying. Beating Kohl wasn’t a thing she could do. She’d gotten lucky. This time, a particular set of circumstances had aligned to bring the big man to his knees. Grace didn’t know if he’d ever wake up. They’d scraped the remains of the parasite out of his back, sprayed synthskin over the wound, and plugged him in to the cheap medical unit. It couldn’t do much for him other than keep his heart beating and his lungs sucking in oxygen. Wiring Kohl into the thing through his ship suit had taken both Nate and El hands; Grace wasn’t up to it. Clumps of foam sealant bulged on the exterior of the suit like growths.

  “I didn’t mean…” said Hope, trailing off.

  Grace reached over, giving Hope’s hand a squeeze. The movement felt clumsy and awkward through the gloves, but she did it anyway. “We won’t let him do anything to you, Hope.” That at least was true. She knew Nathan would drop Kohl out an airlock if he brought their crew into jeopardy again. He’d almost done it when he’d found out what had happened in the hold. Grace had stopped him. She’d explained it was a parasite, that he’d been infected, that it wasn’t him. Grace might have scratched her head in puzzlement, if she could have through her helmet, or if the movement wouldn’t have hurt so much. She didn’t understand her own motivations. “Tell you what,” said Grace. “Why don’t you take a break. I’ll watch him.”

  “What if,” said Hope, and then stopped.

  “I’ll be fine,” said Grace. Lying again.

  Hope left.

  • • •

  “Gracie,” said Kohl, his voice raspy over the comm.

  “Asshole,” said Grace, looking up. She’d been almost asleep. The Tyche’s lack of gravity had let her float, the pain lower without pressure on her joints.

  “Huh,” he said. “I thought I had a dream.” He looked down at his suit, the clumps of sealant, and the tubes and wires going into the machine at his side. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

  “No,” said Grace. She didn’t move, because moving would hurt, and she’d wince, and Kohl would see her weakness.

  He held her eyes for a few minutes, then looked away. She felt the emotions coming off him, a complicated brew, but the biggest one was shame. That surprised her. Kohl spoke, his face still averted. “You put up a hell of a fight.”

  That made her lean forward, something she didn’t manage with the elegance she wanted. Grace hadn’t spent enough time without gravity to move well. Against the pain, her teeth gritted. “Was that some kind of apology?”

  “No,” said Kohl.

  “The great October Kohl doesn’t apologize?”

  “The great October Kohl didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. She supposed it was true. It was like being on a ship flown by someone else.

  “You’ve got to wonder why you’re sucking oxygen instead of vacuum right now,” said Grace. “You’ve got to wonder if someone talked the captain down from throwing you out an airlock.”

  Kohl turned back to look at her. “That the truth? The cap want to space me?”

  “Would it matter?” said Grace.

  “I guess it might,” said Kohl. “Who would do that?”

  “No one sensible,” she said. “But I got to thinking.”

  “What about?” said Kohl.

  “I was thinking, ’Hey, Grace. During that scuffle where you beat the stuffing out of October Kohl—’”

  “Hey now,” said Kohl.

  Grace gritted her teeth. It might have been a smile, under different circumstances. “’When you beat Kohl senseless, there were at least five times he gave you an advantage. What would make a man do that? What would make a man throw the biggest fight of his match career?’”

  Kohl was silent a long time. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he said, “to have one of those things in your head.”

  “I’ve got some idea,” said Grace. “They don’t need to be inside me to do it.”

  He nodded, nice and slow. “Esper, huh.”

  “This story’s not about me, Kohl.” She wanted to move, but knew it would hurt. “This story’s about you. And then I wondered why you’d throw a fight with me. You don’t like me. You think I’m diseased.” She held up a hand to forestall his comment. “Kohl? Don’t. I can’t tell what you’re thinking. But I know what you’re feeling when you look at me. It comes through loud and clear. The signal is strong, you get what I’m saying?”

  “Hey,” said Kohl. “Anytime you want to go for round two—” He stopped as her sword cleared its scabbard, the blade moving through the vacuum without resistance. Grace moved the scabbard back as her blade moved forward, balancing each other in harmony in zero G. Her boots attached to the floor with a thunk, giving her the stability she’d need for a killing stroke.

  She held it at his neck seal, her arm shaking with the effort of it. “Tell me,” said Grace. “Tell me why I’m alive.”

  “Hell, Gracie,” he said. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Spell it out,” she said.

  “Those bugs, they’re something else,” he said. “They don’t care if you’re an esper, or a criminal. They don’t care if you love the Republic or the Old Empire. They want to use us for food. I been in a lot of fights, Gracie. A lot. And one thing I know is that you fight the biggest fucker first. Then you work down to the smaller … problems. You’re alive because I don’t … I couldn’t win, and I figured you might. They wanted you, and not like you were a burger. They want you because of what you are. Yeah, I hate that. I think you’re … wrong, like breathing water. I don’t like that your kind are in our heads.”

  “Trust me Kohl, your head is not a great place to be,” said Grace, still holding the sword at his neck.

  “Thing is, I’d rather humans of any kind than … fucking bugs,” he said.

  She considered him down the length of her steel, then sheathed the sword. The motion wasn’t as fluid as it should have been, but at least she didn’t drop the blade. “You remember that,” Grace said, “when the time comes to make hard choices.”

  The door slid open behind her. She didn’t hear it so much as feel it through her feet on account of the room being in a vacuum. Grace turned, took in Nate standing there, magboots clamped to the deck. Nate, with his hand on his blaster, in case it was needed, but a smile on his lips, in case that was needed too. She felt herself return that smile, and for the first time she didn’t want to hide it. He cleared his throat. “You two catching up on old times?”

  “Sure, Cap,” said Kohl. “Did you want to space me?”

  “I did,” said Nate. “You try and kill one of my crew again—”

  “It was the bugs,” said Kohl.

  “You listen good, October,” said Nate. “I don’t care if someone has a blaster at your balls. This is our crew.”

  “My balls?” said Kohl.

  “You still got those?” said Nate.

  “Well, sure,” said Kohl. “But—”

  “Because I wondered,” said Nate. “You being knocked over like a corner liquor store.”

  Kohl sat in silence at that.

  “Everyone’s got a choice, Kohl,” said Nate. “You remember today. You remember where Grace Gushiken had a choice, and let you live. Twice.”

  “Twice?” said Kohl.

  “Twice,” said Nate. “You know I wanted to throw your useless carcass into space, which was the second time. The first time was when she stabbed that insect in your back rather than take off your head. Would have been easier to just kill you, wouldn’t it?”

  “Nate,” said Grace. “I—”

  “Hey,” said Nate. “We’ve got to go.”

  “What?” she said.

  “Republic Navy just dropped by to say hello. I could use my Assessor. If you’re not too busy.” He gave her a wink, clear through his
visor. It made her feel warm inside. She wasn’t sure if it was because it was him, or because someone needed her. Needed her, the real Grace, the one behind all the lies.

  “Okay,” she said. She turned to Kohl, thought about saying something, and decided not to. She shut the door behind her as they left, switching to a private comm channel between her and Nate. “The Navy are here?”

  “They are,” said Nate. “Don’t panic. They don’t know anything but what we tell ’em.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” said Grace. “Not about you.”

  He didn’t reply straight away, face turned forward as he led the way to the cargo bay. It was still the best airlock for meeting a boarding party. “Do you mind me asking a serious question? I know it’s not my thing, but this once.”

  “This once,” she said. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Why did you let him live? You could have saved yourself a world of future hurt right then and there, and no one would have faulted you for it.” He swung a leg over the railing for the ladder, drifting down with practiced ease.

  Grace followed, a lot slower. Everything hurt. “I guess,” she said. “I guess I decided to trust him. Isn’t that how it works?”

  He laughed. “Welcome to the Tyche, Grace Gushiken. Welcome home.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Lieutenant Karkoski,” said Nate, “this is a tremendous surprise.”

  He was sitting on one side of a table, Lieutenant Karkoski on the other, a personal console in front of her. Nate’s sword was also there, alongside Grace’s. Nate’s blaster completed the pile of equipment he’d had … borrowed since entering this room. Four Marines were lined up behind the lieutenant, blaster rifles held with a purpose. They were on the Torrington, because the Tyche wasn’t holding atmosphere well, and because the Marines had … asked them to come over.

  “Captain Chevell,” said Karkoski, “what makes you say that?”

  “Well,” said Nate. “Let’s see now. We make a routine run to deliver a transmitter — a run we completed, I might add, which will need payment in full, including our completion bonus—”

  “Completion bonus?” said Karkoski. “I’m trying to work out whether you should be on trial.”

  “This is where my surprise starts,” said Nate. “This entire system has been under blackout since we got here. Assuming we were baby killers or whatever you think we did, how’d you find out?”

  “The Gladiator, a ship stationed in this system, queued up a series of reports. These reports made it through when you opened the gate.” Karkoski moved the console a few centimeters in front of her, straightening it. As if it wasn’t straight already.

  “Ah,” said Nate. “So you can confirm we got the transmitter up and functioning.”

  “I,” said Karkoski, then snapped her mouth shut, thinking on that for a moment.

  “If I could talk for a spell,” said Nate, “I might be able to help the situation.”

  “Okay,” said Karkoski. “Talk.”

  It wasn’t an invitation, but no reason not to treat it like one. Nate leaned back in his chair, a hard collection of plastic angles designed to make exactly no one feel at ease. Lounging in it was a challenge, but he was up to the task. “The Republic — the dear Republic, under whose banner we all sail — sent us out here, I’d guess at least to start with, as a legitimate aid mission. Get the transmitter back online, get the Guild Bridge up, and everyone’s watching their favorite holos.”

  Karkoski nodded, like she was agreeing with someone else.

  Nate gave Grace a look. Her face looks terrible. She’d been sitting up straighter since one of the medtechs on the Torrington had given her a couple of pills after she’d waved off the hypo. Nate figured there was a story there, but it could wait. There was a lot of catching up to do all around. He turned back to Karkoski. “The thing is, it wasn’t the Tyche you sent on that legitimate aid mission.”

  “I’m sorry?” said Karkoski.

  “You sent the Ravana,” said Nate.

  “What happened to the Ravana?” said Karkoski.

  “Reactor malfunction,” said Nate, choosing not to disclose which reactor malfunctioned. “That’s not important right now. What is important—”

  “That’s pretty important,” said Karkoski. “That’s really important. The Ravana lost all hands to a reactor malfunction?”

  “The Ravana lost all hands after she slipped her Endless buffer limits,” said Nate. “We harvested her logs. She tried using the usual Endless jumps to get away. We did the same thing. Didn’t work for us, not for them either, so we figure the crew agreed to disable the buffer to break free of the system. One last run, a flare fired into the hard black, fueled by human souls. They knew there was something bigger at play than their lives. We didn’t know how to read the signs.” He sighed. “The reactor malfunction was an also-ran in this situation.” He leaned forward. “It’s not important.”

  “Captain,” said Karkoski, “I don’t think you understand—”

  “Lieutenant Karkoski, I understand that you sent one ship out here already, and then another one. A small, cheap, disposable ship, run by an independent crew. That was my ship. What happened to the Ravana was a tragedy, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not material to our discussion. What is material to our discussion is my completion bonus. Because you sent us out here to die.” One of the Marines behind Karkoski moved a millimeter. Nate was sure of it.

  “You haven’t told me what happened to the Gladiator,” said Karkoski. She toyed with the console in front of her. “Big ship. You couldn’t miss it.”

  “No, I don’t suppose we could miss a ship with a name like that.” Nate turned to Grace. “Assessor, did you pick up anything like that?”

  “No, sir,” said Grace, eyes on Karkoski. “If I had seen a big ship out here full of valuable salvage, you can be sure I would have mentioned it. Tagged and bagged it. Assuming it was a derelict, because if it wasn’t a floating hulk, it would have contacted us.”

  “Right,” said Nate. “See, Lieutenant?”

  “I think I’m beginning to,” said Karkoski.

  “We did find a massive rock floating in orbit around Absalom,” said Nate. “Big. Huge. Something else you couldn’t miss. Did the Torrington pick it up on sensors?”

  “We did,” said Karkoski. “It looks like half of it fell into Absalom Delta’s gravity well. There’s nothing left down there but a fine layer of ash.”

  “Well,” said Nate, “that isn’t great. How many colonists were down there?” He leaned forward. “How many colonists had to die out here for you to find out the answer, Karkoski?”

  “You forget your place, Captain,” said Karkoski.

  “No,” said Nate.

  “Excuse me?” said Karkoski.

  “He means,” said Grace, “that you forget yours.”

  There was silence in the room. One of the Marines cleared his throat, but was otherwise still.

  “Thank you, Assessor,” said Nate. “What she means, Lieutenant, is that we’re pretty sure you — and don’t take that personally, please, I don’t know if we’re talking you as in the decorated Lieutenant Karkoski, or you as in some asshole back in your black ops division — know what happened here. Or what was happening. And that thing was the sacrifice of over a hundred thousand human souls to a hive of insects bent on the destruction of our race. What I mean is that you’ve forgotten whose side you’re on. Not Empire versus Republic. Not even me versus you. It’s humans, against not humans. You get me?”

  Karkoski laid her hands flat on the table between them, trying to smooth away an invisible wrinkle. “You’re trying to say that out here, someone was illegally—”

  “Cut the shit,” said Grace. “You knew about it. Not all the details, but enough.”

  “I feel like we’ve met before,” said Karkoski. “But you were an Engineer back then.”

  “Field promotion,” said Grace.

  “Will I find a new Engineer aboard the Tyche?” said Ka
rkoski. “Or will I find the Engineer you hid from us?”

  “You’ll find whatever it is you want to find,” said Nate. “You always do. The question you’ve got to be asking yourself right now is what you want to find.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” said Karkoski. Her hands were still flat on the table.

  Grace leaned forward, her arm brushing Nate’s arm. Together, but like people should be. “You should think about whether you want to find someone to bust for a petty crime, or whether you want to uncover one of the biggest acts of genocide perpetrated in the last hundred years.”

  “Genocide?” said Karkoski.

  “The entire colony of Absalom Delta was wiped out,” said Nate. “While minor in comparison, the crew of the Ravana have families that miss them. You and I, and those fine Marines behind you, also know the entire crew of the Gladiator was lost. All because someone was playing with a science experiment.”

  “What do you want, Captain Chevell?” said Karkoski.

  “What I want is for you to pay us what we’re owed,” said Nate. “What I’d also like is for you to get your people off my ship, and leave my Engineer alone. She’s a good person, Karkoski.” He flipped a data sliver onto the table between them. “She made that. For you.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “We’ll get to that. What I’d also like is for you to repair my ship. The Torrington can do it. Patch up my hull and help with repairs to my Endless Drive. And I’d like you to do all of that without letting your CO know.”

  The lieutenant laughed. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

  “Because you’re sure he’s dirty,” said Grace. “You’re flying under a black flag, and you don’t like it. The Marines behind you also don’t like it. That you whisked us in here without us seeing another soul suggests you have motives you’d prefer others not know about.”