Tyche's Crown

by Richard Parry

  Nate turned his attention to his console. If he could get the Tyche working on the problem, that might help some. Standard entry protocol for a hostile insertion. Get the ship to reach out to friendlies, or less friendlies, and find out what’s going on.

  The holo stage flickered, then cleared as it mapped out the objects floating in space. It would take a long, long time to find a shuttle in amidst all that. The ships were old hulks, a battle net up between them, but they’d gone down in fire and violence, and weren’t letting the Tyche in on their conversation. Not that there was much conversation going on what with everyone on them being dead.

  “Say,” said Kohl. “Check that out.” He was pointing out the window.

  El nodded. “I see it. That looks like…” She trailed off.

  “Old Empire insignia,” said Kohl. The ship he was pointing to was huge, bigger than a destroyer, maybe the size of a carrier. Here at the edge of the debris cloud. It could have been a command ship.

  “Hang on,” said El. “Let me bring us in for a closer look.”

  The Tyche continued to paint ships around them with RADAR and LIDAR, getting a feel for the size and shape of what they faced, as El piloted the ship closer to the floating hulk Kohl had pointed at. The Tyche’s running lights flared into the hard black, painting the side of the dead ship in bright white. The first human light that had touched that ship in … how long? Nate didn’t know.

  What he did know was that when they thought they were going to a place that humans had never touched, he’d been very, very wrong. Humans had been here. They’d been here, in their thousands. And they’d died. They’d brought spears of light with them, and they’d died anyway, against an alien foe that had numbers on its side. A foe that could control minds.

  Nate could see the damage the ship had sustained. Rock holes peppered the metal skin, some small, some large enough to fly the Tyche through. Old wounds from long ago. “Hold up,” he said, and El brought the Tyche to a stop, drifting alongside the other ship. “There. That look like a rock hole to you?” He pointed at a long, bubbled scar that cut the ship from top deck to bottom deck. The interior was dark, invisible to their eyes.

  “Looks like a burn. Energy weapon. Probably a laser,” said El. The Tyche chattered to herself for a bit then confirmed the supposition. High yield energy strike. Multiple kinetic round impacts, some of which were consistent with a micro meteor shower, and others of which were more consistent with railgun impacts.

  “Humans fired on this ship,” said Nate. “Not the Ezeroc.”

  “I dunno, Cap,” said Kohl. “I had one of those fuckers inside me. They have a way of making you do things.”

  “You’re saying the Ezeroc made the humans turn on each other,” said El.

  “I ain’t sayin’ shit about the specifics,” said Kohl. “I’m just sayin’ they are fuckers, plain and simple.”

  “Transponder’s not talking our language,” said Nate. “Or it is, but it’s telling the Tyche to keep her hands to herself. I’d like to know who or what that ship is.”

  El nodded at him, turning the Tyche to continue down the side of the dead ship. Yep, it sure was big, the biggest damn thing Nate had ever seen. The Old Empire falcon appeared again under the Tyche’s lights, and also highlighted the ship’s name, painted in huge letters — each one as big as the Tyche herself — for all to see. The hard black hadn’t faded the name, visible to all three of them. The Ark Royal.

  “The way I see it,” said Nate, “we need a faster solve for finding Grace. We can’t … just sit here hoping the Tyche will ID all these ships in a timely manner. Grace might be on the other side of the planet. She might not even be here. But if we can bring up the battle net, maybe get the Tyche hooked in on that, we can work out who is who. Which ships are part of this ruckus. Once we’ve got that, we can look for the odd one out.”

  “You’re expecting there to be just one odd one out,” said El. “There are ships here … look. Look at that fucking thing.” She directed their attention to the holo stage, the Tyche having identified something out there that was a glassy sphere about her own size. The holo flashed UNIDENTIFIED and NO TRANSPONDER repeatedly. “That there is an alien ship, Nate.”

  “More fucken bugs,” said Kohl. “Perfect.”

  “If you could take me there,” said Hope, “I could—”

  “So, this is not my first rodeo,” said Nate. “Standard operating procedure is to know what you’re shooting at. The plan stays the same. We get on the battle net. We find out what these guys knew before they, uh, died. I’m guessing they died.”

  “You know what this is,” said El. “Right?”

  “Uh,” said Nate.

  “This is a last stand,” she said. “This is why the Republic pushed over the Old Empire like it was a toddler. The Old Empire flew all its ships out here to fight a war against the bugs. They expected a winner takes all. All they ended up doing was … dying.”

  “Naw,” said Kohl. “They ended up showing the fuckers where we live. Where human space is.”

  The flight deck went back to being silent for a moment. Then the comm chirped. “So, can I see the alien ship?” said Hope.

  “No,” said Nate. “Hope, I’ll need you to whisper sweet nothings to the Ark Royal. I need you to convince her that the Tyche is a good and proper friend of the Old Empire, and worthy of participating in their super-secret club. Can you do that?”

  “I’d prefer to be on the alien ship,” said Hope.

  “If you don’t,” said Nate, “Grace will die.”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it,” said Hope. “I was just saying. You know. If there’s time. After.”

  “After we’ve saved the galaxy, and the universe,” said Nate, leaning closer to his comm, “you can take a little shore leave. Play with the aliens all you want. Just remember the snails, Hope. So far, in a universe we figured ourselves alone in, we’ve found two alien races, and both of ‘em wanted to do harm to us. You get me?”

  “Aye, Cap,” she said. “Cool. After, I’ll go on the alien ship.”

  Nate sighed. In a way, it was refreshing. He wished he still had a little enthusiasm, and he was happy Hope was getting hers back after Reiko. He would need her focused and on point for what was to come. They’d all need to be on point for that. He turned to Kohl. “How you feeling?”

  “Average,” admitted Kohl. “I’ve been eating like a water buffalo but nothing’s coming out the other—”

  “Too much,” said El. “Too much, Kohl.”

  “You feeling good enough to go on Ark Royal with me?” said Nate.

  “Course,” said Kohl. “Everyone there will be dead, and if they ain’t, they’ll be insects, and I’ll make ‘em dead. Just bugs, Cap. I don’t need to be a hundred for that, you feel me?”

  “Yeah,” said Nate, feeling … ready. Anxious, but excited. Because they were close to Grace. He could feel it. In his bones, deep down, she was close.

  • • •

  The clank in the airlock as the Tyche mated with the Ark Royal was loud. Louder than Nate felt it should be, the sound of a crypt door closing in around them. Clear through his helmet, no need for the external mic on this one. He shook himself. It’s just nerves. And fair enough too, because they had found the remains of a human fleet surrounding a dead world, which was also surrounded by other dead alien ships.

  These Ezeroc didn’t fuck around.

  They’d coupled the Tyche to the top deck of the Ark Royal, where the bridge was. They just needed to get there, clear any dangers, and … it’d all work out. There was a lot of distance between here and there, but they would do it. They had to. For Grace. And maybe for all of them. Nate didn’t like how much interest the Ezeroc had shown in Grace — never had — and she’d be close to them here. They were now running on borrowed time. If the Ezeroc didn’t have her, they would soon. There wasn’t a station here. This was Bug Central. Odds were good the dead world below them was the Ezeroc homeworld.

  Th
e only thing going in their favor was the bracelets. As far as the Ezeroc knew, nothing much was going on around their world. Sure, they might see the telltale flare of the Tyche’s drives, but space was big, and they’d need to be looking in the right place. Odds had to be going for the humans in this one. There was nothing about the Ezeroc that suggested they knew about electrical signatures, other than what they’d learned from humans. So, if they were lucky, the Ezeroc wouldn’t see them coming.

  It should give them enough time to get onboard the Ark Royal and find out where Grace was. Find out, by process of elimination, which one of the thousand floating hulks was the tiny shuttle that held the woman he loved.

  “That sure sounds ominous,” said Kohl, too cheerfully for Nate’s tastes. The big man was in his power armor, the back of it repaired in a motley collection of metal plates. Another ‘quick repair’ Hope had put together. It was just the two of them going in; Nate figured they could get Hope along to whisper sweet nothings to the Ark’s computers when they were sure the dead ship really was dead.

  The Tyche’s airlock slid open to reveal the hard metal side of the Ark Royal. The other ship’s airlock didn’t open, which was expected. No Navy ship would welcome them with open arms in a war situation. Hell, it was likely the electronics were fried, or there just wasn’t enough juice to go around. The Ark’s reactor was powered down, most likely out of fuel, the ship running on reserves for however long it had been out here. Reserves didn’t mean safe; a ship like this could have all kinds of automated defenses waiting to tear them a whole new and complete set of assholes.

  “You want that I get that?” said Kohl.

  “Be my guest,” said Nate.

  Kohl sighed over the comm. He knocked on the plate covering the emergency door release mechanism, and when nothing happened, he drew back a big armored fist and smashed it down. The metal popped off with a clang, revealing a wheel inside. Kohl grabbed it with both hands, his power armor whining as he worked the mechanism. There was a groaning sound from inside the Ark’s hull, then a shriek as the mechanism — long-ago seized solid — gave up its grip. The airlock cracked open, revealing a dark airlock.

  No bodies. Good start.

  Nate played his suit light around the interior of the airlock. “Looks like this way in is clean.”

  “Looks like,” agreed Kohl. He stepped inside, magboots gripping to the metal decking, and repeated his door-open trick with the interior lock.

  While he worked, Nate turned to the Tyche, sealing her airlock closed. He keyed the comm. “Keep her safe,” he said.

  “No problem,” said El. “And if we hear screaming…”

  “You’ll come running?” said Nate.

  “Hell no. We’re leaving you to die.” She cut off the comm, leaving Nate to smile to himself.

  “We’re good,” said Kohl. “And I don’t mean good-good. I mean, the door’s open, but we’re still fucked.” Nate turned around, taking in the interior of the Ark Royal. An ancient Old Empire ship, sent here, past the edge of the map where all the dragons lived. And dragons had eaten this ship. It was worth remembering. Speaking of … inside the Ark’s entry bay was a junction. Straight ahead? Sealed door. Left and right, corridors stretched off into darkness. Outside the entry bay? Five dead Ezeroc drones floated in the zero G, some pieces burned by blaster fire, some pieces with kinetic rounds. Bits of carapace were scattered about near the walls, time and minimal gravity having attracted them there. “What kind of idiot uses a kinetic weapon on the inside of their own starship?”

  “The desperate kind,” said Nate. “Notice anything odd?”

  “Dead bugs,” offered Kohl.

  “Yeah, but not dead people,” said Nate. “There are no dead people here at all. Odd that the Ezeroc didn’t bag even one.”

  “Maybe they got away,” said Kohl. “Maybe the humans won this one, and dragged their injured to the med bay.”

  “Lot of maybes,” said Nate. “Left or right?”

  “Straight ahead,” said Kohl, pointing with an armored hand. “Bridge’ll be up that way.”

  One of the overhead lights flickered for a minute, then winked back out. Nate stared at it for a second. “Well, something’s awake here. Step careful. Last time we walked on an enemy installation there were drones and turrets.”

  Kohl unslung the big plasma cannon from behind him. “Ready for anything.”

  Nate walked forward, taking point. There was a certain part of his mind that wanted Kohl to go first, on account of the armor and the big gun, but Nate felt an urgency pushing him on. He had to get to Grace. He had to get to Grace. Something in his gut told him that more was at stake than missing crew. And, much as it didn’t sit right with him, more than a missing lover. There was something bigger than the two of them at play here: a whole alien race that wanted humans as the next course on an intergalactic banquet.

  He made it to the closed door, trying for the controls. He tapped at them a couple of times, but no lights bloomed. The door didn’t open. Nate sighed. “You want to try your plasma key?”

  “Sure,” said Kohl. Nate stepped back as Kohl unloaded his cannon into the door, walking the blasts around the sill. Metal melted and splashed to cool in the cold, airless vacuum of the Ark Royal. After thirty seconds of focused fire, Kohl let the trigger go, clanked forward, and gave the door a kick. It fell forward, Nate feeling the clang of metal through his boots.

  “Thanks,” said Nate. The room they’d found looked to be some kind of screening facility for boarders, old scanning machines sitting dark and quiet. Some of them were broken, interior electronics bared under their suit lights. There were Ezeroc drone bodies in this room floating free. There was also a dead human, or what was left of one. The body was charred, the top quarter of it — sectioned off from shoulder to opposite waist — gone. Nate walked over to the body, magboots clunking as he walked. The human body was wedged behind one of the scanning machines, which looked like it might have exploded. The impact of blaster fire, or an explosive, hard to tell — just melted metal and burned human. Nate nudged the body with a gloved hand. It shifted under the movement, chunks of carbon flaking to float free. The body was freeze-dried, the parts not crisped mummified in the vacuum of space. “Why you suppose they didn’t take this guy?”

  “Not much worth taking,” said Kohl. “No head. No meat on the bones.”

  “Makes sense,” said Nate, thinking back to the pods the Ezeroc entombed humans in. Those people seemed … alive until they were drained dry. The Ezeroc must need an … operational human to work with. It boded a little hope for the state of Grace, if they could only get to her before she was sucked dry or had insects living in her brain cavity. He shied away from those thoughts.

  “It’s okay, Cap,” said Kohl. “We’ll get her.”

  “How do you know?”

  Nate could see Kohl’s surprise through his visor. “Because you’re in charge. Always works out.” His big armored shoulders rose and fell as he shrugged.

  Nate didn’t know what to say. “Doesn’t feel like that.”

  “Well, it might not work out too,” said Kohl. “We could all die.”

  “Nice talk,” said Nate. There were two other doors leading away from this area, one secured and closed to the right, and the other an open invitation leading on towards the bridge. Open meant easy, but it also meant bad, because it was a pipe the Ezeroc would have flowed down, almost frictionless. He started down that way, his suit’s lights leading the way. The passage was straight, leading to another open door, a door beyond suggesting another room. In this passage, a couple of charred Ezeroc floated. He tapped one of their corpses with a hand, setting it to drift away. “The problem with these damn bugs is they don’t seem to care about losses. They convert our dead into material to build new troops.”

  “Fucking bugs,” agreed Kohl.

  Nate moved past the drifting insect corpse, the nightmare of its claws and mandibles still a sight to behold even though the thing was dead. At least
, he was pretty sure it was dead. Living for twenty years in a vacuum? Had to be dead.

  Had to be.

  He drew his blaster anyway, then continued on. The corridor opened into a large ready room, configurable tables and seating charred and broken around the room. Much of it was still secured to the decking, but some floated free. There were multiple impact rounds on the walls; the pockmarks of kinetic rounds huddled next to the melted blisters of plasma fire. Six Ezeroc drones were in various states of dismemberment in here. “Why do you suppose they don’t take their dead?”

  “Might be the same reason they don’t take our dead,” said Kohl. “Need the meat to be fresh.”

  Nate shuddered. “You’re a ray of fucking sunshine.” It was hard to tell what had been going on in the ready room. It looked like it was configured as a war room, but the holo stage was long dark. Whatever plans it had held had turned out to be useless in the end. He turned to the walls, examining the weapons fire. “They didn’t go down without a fight.”

  “They still went down,” said Kohl.

  “Anyone ever told you to work on your positive attitude?” said Nate.

  “Is there a bonus in it?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then,” said Kohl, like that explained everything.

  The ready room connected to the bridge, a single doorway — wider than the standard doors they’d been through — standing open. Nate walked through, steps slowing as he entered the bridge of the Ark Royal. On the bridge was more of the same. Ezeroc drones, their husks scattered about. Consoles and acceleration couches shot to hell. One of the main windows showing a view of space was spidered by an impact, but looked like it had held. Vacuum hadn’t killed these people. They’d been … taken, stolen away, used as fuel for the Ezeroc.

  Two other ways out. One ahead, one to the right. Nate turned to the right, because the door was sealed. Writing on the outside read COMMANDER. He pressed the controls on the outside without much hope, then knocked off the panel for the emergency release. The wheel inside was stiff but not seized, turning with just a little effort. He wound the door open then stepped inside.