Tyche's Crown

by Richard Parry

  She checked the cameras as Grace — carrying Nate — and Kohl got into the cargo bay airlock. She was already kicking the drives on before they’d closed the outer hatch, a storm of sand and molten glass erupting below them as the Tyche clawed for the heavens. The sandy horizon gave way to the blue of the heavens as El pushed the ship up. No time for them to be in acceleration couches. It didn’t much matter if they blacked out, it only mattered if they died.

  The Tyche continued to climb, but — El’s eyes on the holo — too damn slow. She pushed the throttles forward, cleared a red warning indicator, and said, “Faster. Come on, girl. A little more. I know you’re tired. I know. But just a little more, and we can all go home. Please.”

  The red warning indicator blinked on the holo, the left drive running too hot, then cleared. The feeling of thrust intensified, pushing El back into her acceleration couch. She could see the inbound missiles racing towards them now, not the individual tubes but the bright, bright flare of their drives. That was a lot of missiles. A lot of rage and pain coming down to visit the Ezeroc. There wouldn’t be anything left.

  The Tyche got closer, and El’s heart sank. So many. The odds of making it through alive were low. Very low. If she’d gone out around the planet, she might have missed the vengeance of humanity, but then she wouldn’t have got to a safe distance in time. She closed her eyes.

  Time to die.

  At least it was with friends, on a ship she loved. And, hey. They’d saved the universe.

  There was a warning alarm, and her eyes snapped open. The holo stage blinked an angry read DANGER COLLISION ALERT DANGER, and that damn left drive thrust light was blinking again. El took her hands off the sticks, their fate in the hands of the gods now.

  Ahead, a hundred missiles filled the sky the Tyche was heading for. That was a fate you couldn’t miss. She could see it in her mind’s eye, pick out the particular rocket they would impact against. It’d be quick, so fast you wouldn’t feel a thing. So fast, you wouldn’t even know what had happened, your body returned to the component atoms the universe had made you from.

  The drive alarm sounded again, then that drive flared out and died. The Tyche shook as the drive blew its internal structure across the heavens — if Hope had been in Engineering, she’d have been lost into the vacuum of space, or atomized in a moment. The ship groaned as uneven stress pressed against her superstructure.

  But something else happened. She yawed to the left, a missile streaking past the windscreen too fast to notice, the only thing El taking in was the bright wash of drive flare as they soared in its wake. They skimmed across a sky filled with fire, the ship now in a spiral around the inbound fusillade of missiles as the right drive tried to compensate, flaring bright.

  And then, they were through. Hard black. Open space. The heavens around them. El realized she was gasping, like she’d run a hundred klicks in a minute. She looked at the holo stage, the emergency warning light gone.

  It was very lucky that Hope hadn’t been in Engineering. But the real luck? The drive flaring out, slewing them across the sky, weaving through a hundred rockets that wanted to end them. El laid gentle hands on the Tyche’s sticks, breathing in and out, in and out, alive.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  NATE STOOD IN the darkened briefing room, the holo stage — empty except for a gentle glow — providing the only light. Karkoski and Chad were seated. His crew from the Tyche were arrayed around the room. Kohl was leaning against a wall. El was sitting down with her head back, eyes closed; Nate wasn’t sure if she was asleep, but she looked like it. Hope was also seated, but leaning forward, paying attention. All his crew, except one.

  There wasn’t anyone else. No Marines.

  At least he’d stopped feeling so hungry. He’d eaten his bodyweight since … coming back. He was sure of it.

  “Captain,” said Karkoski. “I’m glad—”

  “You played me,” said Nate. “You played us for a run at a new order. You wanted to break down the old rules because you weren’t getting, what, promoted fast enough?” He looked at Chad. “And you. Always from the shadows. Always. Trying to control the outcome of humans. Influencing us, a little shift here, a little shift there. You can see our thoughts. Know our minds better than we do.”

  “It was for the Empire,” said Karkoski.

  “It was for humanity,” said Chad.

  “Chad’s not even your fucken name, is it?” said Kohl, his voice a low rumble.

  Chad winced. “No.”

  “The only reason you’re still sucking oxygen,” said Nate, “is because I think you did it for the right reasons. Sure, you wanted power,” he said, nodding at Karkoski, “or control,” with a nod of his chin to Chad. “But ultimately? It was so people could live on.”

  “Captain,” said Karkoski, “if you think you could harm me on my starship—”

  “If you think those children you call Marines can save you, well, you’re in for some disappointment on that count,” said Kohl. “Only way you’re getting out of this room alive is if the cap says so. After that? We still got all our recruits from Enia Alpha. They ain’t loyal to you.”

  Nate watched the silence fill the room, seeping in from every corner. Good. They knew what the score was. He walked to the big window looking out into space. Below, burnished orange still raged from the core of the Ezeroc world, shattered pieces of the planet drifting apart. There was nothing left down there; fire had spread across the surface and under it, melting the world, breaking it. Cracking the back of their enemy. He breathed in, then out. Their shared enemy. Alien vessels still lurked in the debris cloud along with the remnants of an Old Empire fleet that had tried — and failed — to save humanity. Nate laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. One person had sent a desperate hope forward through time, hoping that his family would answer the call. Dominic Fergelic had hoped that Nate would pick up the ball. And he had.

  They’d saved humanity. For now. He turned back around. “Karkoski? Chad? That’s why you’re still sucking air. Right reasons. So I’ll fix it so they’re the only reasons.”

  Chad’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “Not what you think,” said Nate. He tapped his head. “I can’t control minds. Not yet, leastways. Apparently it’s a family trait. Who knows. Maybe one day. Not today. Today, I’m the Emperor, and you’re all my loyal subjects, right?” Slow nods. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been all across the hard black. Seen a lot of things you wouldn’t believe. Through it all, I’ve learned that people, if given the right nudge, tend to do the right things. But I’ve also learned that you can’t get anything done as a team unless there’s trust.”

  “Captain,” said Karkoski, “what is all this about—”

  “Captain ain’t done talking,” said Kohl.

  Nate held up a hand. “It’s okay, Kohl. It’s okay.”

  Kohl flashed a grin at him. “You keep saying that like you know what it means.”

  “I kinda do, don’t I,” said Nate. He faced Karkoski and Chad. “I’m going to remove any other obstacles from you. I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted, so you can help me save us all. Karkoski? If you’re not clawing over people to get to the top, you could be useful. Chad? If you were in control of things, you might see the people and not the problems. So here’s what’ll happen.” He took a breath, then another. “Karkoski, you’ll head up the Navy. My Admiralty. I don’t give a fuck what you call it. I don’t. But you’re in charge. No higher job.” He watched her nod, the movement slow as she worked through the details in her head. Nate turned to Chad. “And you. I don’t hold much truck with controlling minds, but you’ve shown yourself to understand the where and why of it, unlike Amedea. So you’ll be the head of my Intelligencers. Except we don’t use that term anymore. It’s a term people fear and hate. You’ll find other folks like you. Teach ‘em to be strong in the face of the worst enemy we’ve got. Teach people hope. Teach them you’re our best chance. Can you do that, Chad?”

  Ch
ad sat silent, hands on the table in front of him. “You want me to … make more mind readers.”

  “I want you to make more space wizards,” said Nate. “I saw what Grace did down there, and … it’s a power we could use about now. The Ezeroc aren’t gone, Chad. They’re still out there. Sure, we broke the back of the beast today. But they’ll come looking. And I want an answer. When they get here.”

  “An answer,” said Chad, “they shall have.”

  Nate nodded, then looked at Kohl. “I figure you’ve had my back.”

  “I figure,” Kohl agreed.

  “How do you look in black?”

  Kohl blinked. “As good as anyone,” he said. “Why?”

  “You dummy,” said Hope. “He wants you to head the Emperor’s Black.”

  “Oh,” said Kohl. “I was going to do that anyway, on account of all those recruits we’ve got just itchin’ for a brawl. Whether he asked or not.”

  Those troops might have been unnecessary in this battle, but men and women fighting for what they believed in? That’s the kind of thing that wins wars. Nate gave the big man a grin. “I figure you would have, at that.” He turned to Hope. “Hope Baedeker. Savior of the human race.”

  “I don’t know,” said Hope. “I fix stuff.”

  “I need a Guild liaison,” said Nate. “Those assholes? There are changes coming.”

  “Sure, Cap,” she said, shrugging. “Whatever.”

  “I’ll also need a list of things you think need changing,” said Nate, softer. “Because I don’t understand where the wrong parts are.”

  “Oh,” said Hope. “Okay. Sure.”

  Nate sighed. One more. “Elspeth.”

  She didn’t open her eyes. “Oh God. More responsibility.”

  “Ain’t nobody flies like you,” he said.

  She opened her eyes, then leaned forward. “Well, that’s true.” Her voice was suspicious, like she was expecting a trap.

  “How do you feel about teaching?” said Nate. “We’ll need more pilots. A lot more. Pilots who can fly in the hard black against aliens who have faster ships and don’t need to breathe air.”

  El’s eyes darted to Karkoski. “I ain’t workin’ for her,” she said.

  “No,” said Nate. “You’re working for me. We’ve got a Navy. We don’t have a space force.”

  “Okay,” said El. “A space force.”

  “Yeah. The name needs work.”

  “No shit,” she said. She leaned back, closing her eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

  Nate looked around the room. “Trust comes slow. It can come like a thief in the night, surprising you. It can come when you least expect it, and sometimes it comes when you most need it. I hope you understand … I don’t know. I think you can see. I’m trusting all of you.”

  “With your Empire?” said Karkoski.

  “No,” said Nate. “With yours.”

  • • •

  He found Grace at the bottom of the ship, the lowest point you could go and still have glass that looked out into space. She was sitting in the bay of a window, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders scrunched up. Around her head were bandages, hiding that terrible cut the Ezeroc had made. The medtechs said she would heal. Physically. They’d wanted to open her back up again to see what the Ezeroc had done. They’d taken a look at Kohl, and Nate, and El, and Hope, all come to see Grace lying in a bed, and reconsidered their world view. There would be no more cutting, no more experiments for Grace Gushiken. Not while Nate drew breath.

  He sat across from her, not touching her. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying, but her face was dry. Her fingers trembled as they touched the cold glass separating her from the hard black. “Hey,” he said.

  “I killed you,” she said.

  That sat like a stone between them. Nate leaned forward. “It’s been,” he said, “one of those days.”

  She looked at him, then laughed. Then laughed more, and he joined in. As they sobered her eyes searched his face. “It wasn’t that I thought I’d lost you,” she said. “It was that … I had destroyed the one good thing in the universe. All this time. On the run. Being hunted. My stupid father…” Her voice trailed off. “He’s still out there. Good ol’ Dad.”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. “One problem at a time, hey? I’m trying to build an empire over here.”

  “Well,” she said. “That sounds hard.”

  “It is,” he said. “It’s … tricky to know who to trust.”

  “And you … why are you here, Nate? I killed you. I stabbed you through the chest with a sword. I think that’s a gross violation of a trust fall, you know?”

  “Sure,” he said, “but it can’t get any worse.”

  She snorted, then looked out the window, the hard black of space meeting her eyes. “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Grace Gushiken? I need you.”

  “You want me to keep Chad in line?” she said. “That squirrelly fucker. I can—”

  “I need a teacher,” said Nate. “I need an equal. I need someone to share my inner self with. I need someone to hold me back when I’m running too fast. I need someone to push me when I’m going too slow. I need someone to spend my life with.”

  “Oh,” she said. Her eyes were moist. “Oh.”

  He reached a hand to her, and she took it. He pulled her close, smelling her hair, loving the feel of her body. When he was dying, this was the thing he’d thought of — never having this, ever again. A long, long blackness of nothing, never to see Grace Gushiken again. “I love you, Grace. I think I’ve known it since I met you, but I’m a little slow. I … didn’t realize.”

  “No,” she said. “We humans are a little slow.” She pulled him in for a kiss, long, and lingering. “I love you, Nathan Chevell.”

  He smiled. “Now, about that job.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “There’s one vacancy left,” he said. “You’ll want to think about it. I need an Empress.”

  “Oh,” she said, and said nothing else for a long time after that.

  • • •

  The bridge of the Torrington was empty except for him and Grace. He wanted to be on top of the ship, looking out at the alien menace they’d destroyed. “There’s one more thing,” he said. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  She leaned into him. “Ask,” she said. “You never know your luck.”

  “I think … maybe I do,” he said. He thought of the Tyche, the home where his heart was, snuggled up against the Torrington. Hope was already there, working on repairs. They’d be ready to fly soon. Which made him wonder: should he fly on the Tyche? He was the Emperor. Or would be. Or something. There’d be a ceremony. There’d be drinks and an open bar, at least. But did the Emperor fly an old heavy lifter?

  Of course he did. The Emperor did what the fuck the Emperor wanted to.

  “What is it?” said Grace, giving his arm a nudge.

  “I need to talk to them,” said Nate. “I need to send them a message. But they don’t use radio. They use … mind … speech … stuff.”

  “Telepathy,” said Grace. “They are a race of espers.”

  “Yes. So I can’t talk to them in words they’ll understand.”

  “But I can,” said Grace.

  “But you can.”

  She was silent for a while. “They hiss, like snakes,” she said, at last. “I hate them.”

  “I know,” he said. “I mean, I don’t know. But I know it’s not … I’ve got no one else to ask.”

  “No,” she said. “Just me.”

  “Together.”

  “Together,” she agreed. “What’s your message?”

  • • •

  This is Nathan Chevell. You have killed my family, and so I’ve killed yours.

  It can stop here. But I know it won’t. You know it too. You are hungry, and violent, and want to end everything else. I get that. I’m human. We are the same. Oh, I know our bones are on the inside and yours are on the outside. I know you can modify the gene
tics of yourselves and others. But that’s all superficial stuff. No, we’re the same where it counts. We both have sharp teeth. We grin when we fight.

  But that’s where we leave you behind. We don’t wear the yoke well. We have starships. We have bent nuclear fire to our will. We make machines that are stronger than we are. Our fleets are big, and we fly under a common flag. We hunger for vengeance. We hunger for war.

  You’ve learned just how similar we are. You’ve learned — finally — that you can be beaten. This is fair warning.

  This area of space is ours. This is the Human Protectorate. If you come here? You will die. If you cross this border, we will end you.

  Now let me tell you about how we’re different. We are individuals. We see inspiration in the different. We love to laugh. We make friends.

  Because of this, we will look for other species that share our values. All who do are welcome in our Human Protectorate. If you hunt our allies? We will rain vengeance on you like you have never experienced. I swear it as the Emperor and protector of humanity.

  We broke your world. We killed your oldest Queen. We are humans, and we see you. We are here to teach you fear. We will stand against you.

  • • •

  You’ve finished Tyche’s Journey. I hope you loved it!

  All good things must come to an end. The crew of the Tyche will return. If you’re hankering for more science fiction until then, why not try Upgrade?

  Buy on Amazon

  GLOSSARY

  ABSALOM DELTA FOURTH planet in the Absalom system, this planet basks in the light of a yellow star, but has a higher-than-Earth 1.1G. The Ezeroc outbreak was first recorded here.

  Acceleration Couch Crew couches support crew members during high-G maneuvers. They are fitted with gimbals allowing free movement. Their dynamic gel system supports all points of the body in both positive and negative G, providing some protection against greyout, blackout, redout, and G-LOC (G-force induced Loss of Consciousness). They remove the need for G-suits in modern spacecraft, although many space suits are still equipped with anti-G technology anyway.