by Chris Fox
“I do not wish to give up my body.” Rita bit her lip, her short hair floating in the void around her. “If we go there, and we don’t want to change, do you think they’ll let us stay?”
“Mother?” Kaho asked, bowing deferentially. She gave him a nod, and he turned back to them. “I do not believe you understand what your natural state entails. Your people won’t care if you are there or not. They do not possess language, only vague emotions. They are empathic, to a limited extent, but they do not communicate or bond as we do.”
Frit turned back to her people, horrified beyond reason. “That sounds so lonely.” She badly wanted to leave this place, and wanting that crushed her. She’d given up everything to be here. Now what? Where could they go? They had no allies, except for Nebiat.
“I understand and sympathize,” Nebiat said, her tone oozing support. “You cannot be as you were, not after everything you’ve been through. So what will you do now?”
The fact that she didn’t offer her opinion raised Frit’s guard. Nebiat was far too canny not to have a plan for them. Perhaps she wanted them to arrive at the solution on their own, so they thought it was their idea. Frit decided to take a shortcut.
“Oh, out with it already.” Frit squared her shoulders in a very Eros-like way, and drifted a bit closer to Nebiat and her hatchling. “You knew what we’d find when we arrived here. You knew it the first day you met us in that clearing. You knew damned well we wouldn’t want to stay here once we realized what it meant. You’ve had a plan this entire time. So let’s skip the part where we pretend you’re doing this to help us. What do you want from us?”
Most of her sisters glanced awkwardly away at her outburst, but Fritara simply stared, aghast.
Nebiat gave Frit a compassionate glance, then turned to the others. “Your sister’s words are blunt, but her concern is warranted. You all know I’m embroiled in a war with your former home. Shaya seeks to eradicate the Krox—make no mistake of it. If we were to retreat back into the Erkadi Rift today, how do you think they would respond?”
No one answered. Nebiat pointed at Fritara. “You, there. You look like you want to say something, little sister. What is it?”
Fritara wilted a bit at the attention, and hid part of her face behind her flaming hair. “If you retreat, then the Confederacy will muster all their forces. They will build an army, and when they’re ready they’ll come into the rift to wipe you out.”
“This one understands.” Nebiat smiled proudly at Fritara. “We are battling for our survival, and you each have a choice.” Nebiat’s expression shifted to a more somber mask. “Either you can help us win the war, and secure a place for your people, or you can pick a corner of the sector to hide in. Either route is viable. There is nothing wrong with hiding, and if that’s the route you chose, I will wish you well.”
Her answer infuriated Frit, because she saw the manipulation, while many of her sisters seemed to miss it. It was the demon’s choice, which was no choice at all. Either they forged an unknown destiny when they had no knowledge, no resources, and not even the social skills necessary to seek the help they’d need to find a new home. Or they joined Nebiat’s war effort, where they had a clear purpose, one that utilized the skills each had spent a decade or more mastering. One that gave them purpose.
“I’ll go with you,” Fritara piped up.
Others followed, and before long everyone had agreed. Nebiat looked to Frit. “Will you come too, sister?”
“Of course.” She smiled prettily at Nebiat. Someone had to make sure that her sisters weren’t taken advantage of, and while everyone else was buying her bullshit, Frit was one hundred percent certain Nebiat wanted them only as weapons. “Where do we start?”
“Excellent.” Nebiat beamed a radiant smile at them. “I will escort you to a Ternus facility, one where they experimented with magic. It is my hope that we can find a particular piece of technology that will allow us to slip past their early warning systems, and put an end to them once and for all.”
Nebiat began flying back to her ship, and a flood of Ifrit followed. Only Kahotep lingered, and he shot Frit a pitying look. “You see it too, don’t you? Most don’t.”
She nodded sadly.
Kaho drifted over to give her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, then followed the others. Only when he’d nearly reached the ship did Frit force herself to follow as well. She was positive she was going to regret this, but as with every part of her life, what better choice did she have?
10
War
“LT, we have to move.” The sergeant’s voice yanked Aran up from dark dreams, and he rolled out of his bunk to find himself soaked in sweat. Every part of him ached from the previous evening’s session with the squat rack, Crewes’s favorite therapy. Not as much as the internal ache, though. The confusion surrounding Nara’s behavior had permeated his nightmares.
Crewes loomed over his bed, already wearing his armor.
“What’s up, Sergeant?” Aran blinked himself awake as he slid from the bed and buckled Narlifex around his waist. He missed the convenience of a void pocket, but Narlifex really hated being cooped up.
“We’ve docked on the Hunter. Major’s asked everyone to report to the hangar. She’s got some sort of big news.” Crewes smacked his armored fists together. “Hope it’s combat. ‘Bout time, too. I get antsy sitting around too long.”
Aran couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You are the only Marine in the sector who hates days off.” He buttoned his jacket, then followed the sergeant out of his quarters.
“Nah, that ain’t it.” Crewes shook his head. “The Krox ain’t takin’ days off. They’re out there killing and binding. Can’t let ‘em get complacent. I want them telling their hatchlings horror stories about us.”
“Bord and Kez?” Aran asked as he stifled a yawn.
“I sent them ahead. I wanted to talk to you, private like.” Crewes fell into step beside Aran. “You know I’ve got mad respect for you, right, LT? You’ve become a fine officer, and you keep us alive.” They strode down the corridor into the Talon’s common space.
“Thanks. I sense a but, though.” He paused and gave Crewes his full attention.
Crewes looked very uncomfortable. “I ain’t gonna sugar coat this. I think you should quit. From the Confederacy, I mean.”
“Now that I did not see coming.” Aran leaned against the wall. He’d been preoccupied with Nara. What had he missed? Had he been neglecting his duties?
“It’s just that I’ve been thinking. You ain’t a follower, sir. Not like me.” Crewes gave a half smile. “I’m thinking we could build something. We’re all flush with scales after Virkon. That means we can all buy out our contracts. I think we should, sir. The major gave you the Talon, right? We could still fight the war, but then we could go where we wanted. Fight how we wanted. And then there ain’t no suits tying us down with bullshit rules.”
Aran considered that. It certainly sounded attractive. They had enough money to keep the Talon resupplied through an extended campaign, and he could probably get whatever supplies he needed at a discount through Kazon.
“The only thing I haven’t figured out,” Crewes continued, “is how to recruit. ‘Cause we’re gonna need more than just the handful of people we have.”
Aran scratched his beard. “That would be easy enough to handle, I think. I’d choose quality over quantity. We could make offers to anyone we meet that’s a good fit. Maybe we could buy out Davidson’s contract.”
They exited the common room, and took the ramp out of the Talon into the Hunter’s hangar. It couldn’t have contrasted more with the first day Aran had seen it. The place flowed with life now. Techs ran various diagnostics on hovertanks. Marines drilled, or lounged about playing cards if their work was done. There was a relaxed readiness to everyone that Aran very much liked.
The largest concentration of people clustered at the base of Davidson’s hovertank, which was parked against the far wall near the largest scry-scre
en Aran had ever seen. It covered the entire wall on that side of the hangar, from floor to ceiling.
“When did they find time to install that?” Crewes rumbled.
“And who paid for it?” Aran asked. It seemed more and more that Ternus was stepping in and taking a direct role with the Hunter. With Voria having moved to the First Spellship, there was no one to really oppose the takeover. This ship belonged to Ternus in all but name now.
They threaded past Marines, most of whom delivered respectful nods. Aran returned them as often as he was able. He’d heard what these men had done, the role they’d played in the battle on Virkonna. They were heroes in his book, every one.
“Aran!” Davidson called. He stood atop his tank, one arm draped over the spellcannon. “We’re getting big news. I’m throwing it up on the scry-screen.”
The lights dimmed a level and the wall lit. A grey-haired reporter floated in a suit of Ternus power armor. Behind her an orbital battle played out in the umbral shadow of a grey-green world.
A gargantuan Fissure split the whole of the night sky, and Krox forces were pouring out. Dozens of troop carriers, flanked by winged forms. It was a force many times what they’d faced on Virkon, though thankfully most of the Krox numbers seemed to be carriers, and not Wyrms. Aran had personally accounted for many of their kind, and hoped that he’d managed to thin their numbers. He wasn’t sure how much it would matter. The stream of Krox was endless.
The reporter winced and covered her head as a starship detonated behind her, but straightened immediately after the glow faded. “This is Erica Tharn, reporting live. As you can see, the Krox have arrived at New Texas, and are quickly overrunning the defenders.”
The first wave of carriers approached the planet, which had considerable defenses. This was no Shayan world to rely on magic. No, these people trusted steel. Dozens of orbital defense platforms hovered between the approaching fleet and the world they protected, each close enough to support the others. They formed a loose defensive net, a clever defensive feature.
Ternus warships, small frigates and cruisers mostly, flitted between the stations. They were perfect for rapid response, and would allow the Ternus defenders to focus fire on weakened ships. Unfortunately, he only saw a handful of battleships stiffening the Ternus ranks. Those lurked behind the defensive screen, which was probably how Aran would have deployed them too. If the Krox broke through, those ships would be needed to hold the line.
All of a sudden, the closest rank of Krox carriers were wreathed in explosions, all along their hulls. The damage seemed superficial, until it wasn’t. The first carrier imploded, followed by a half dozen others.
“What the depths took out those ships?” Aran asked Crewes.
“Micromines. Ternus loves ‘em,” the sergeant explained. His gaze hadn’t left the scry-screen. “They’ll swarm a target and explode near sensitive areas. Each mine discharges a pod of nanites, and the little bastards dismantle the closest system to the impact point. I hear they’re crazy expensive, but looks like they’re worth it.”
The next wave of carriers met with a similar fate, as did the one after. The Krox lost at least twenty carriers before the first rank reached the orbital stations. Curiously, they didn’t attack. The stations lit them up, and that rank exploded spectacularly.
Aran shook his head. What were the Krox thinking? There had to be a method to their attack.
Then it hit him. “It’s a distraction. Those ships are illusions. I’m betting only the first rank was real.”
As if on cue, an entire Krox fleet decloaked on the far side of the planet. They’d slipped around the defensive net, and were beginning to make landfall. Each one descended toward a different city, and Aran’s blood ran cold when he realized none of the Ternus defenders would be able to stop them before they grounded their troops.
Once binders reached the surface, they could hide and keep harrying defenders with animated corpses or enslaved megafauna. They’d be nearly impossible to root out, and the longer they were left unchecked the larger their respective armies would grow.
The viewpoint shifted back to orbit, and showed the Krox retreating from the Fissure. It closed in their wake, and the rest of their fleet moved to a spot behind the largest of three moons. That put them well out of range of the orbital stations, and the Ternus defenders clearly didn’t have enough firepower to pursue.
The screen winked out, and dozens of conversations broke out all at once.
Davidson hopped down from his tank and strode deliberately toward Aran. He eyed Aran searchingly. “We have to stop this, man. We’re the only ones who can.”
“The Spellship isn’t ready,” Aran pointed out.
“Screw the Spellship. The Hunter can fly, and so can the Talon. My people are about to have to deal with binders, and I can tell you right now they aren’t prepared.” Davidson’s features softened. “Please, Aran. You kill binders. It’s what you do. My people need you.”
Aran thought carefully about his answer, but in the end there was only one possible conclusion. Davidson was right. “We were already talking about mustering out of the Confederacy. I can do that right now, and have the Talon ready to fly in about four hours. After that, we’re all yours.”
As if on cue, the Talon’s spelldrive began to hum. Aran turned curiously toward his ship, wondering if some sort of internal mechanism had activated. The vessel lifted gracefully from the deck, then glided through the membrane separating the hangar from empty space outside.
“Uh, sir, I think someone just jacked our ride,” Crewes boomed, “and my GODS’ DAMNED ARMOR with it!”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Aran stared after the Talon. There was only one person with the access and magic to take his ship.
Nara had just proved Kheross right.
11
Choices
When Nara resumed control of her body, she found herself standing in the Talon’s central matrix. There was an odd moment where her body and mind seemed to catch up, and she remembered the actions her body had taken while she’d been mired in Talifax’s spell.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she prayed to gods she didn’t truly worship. Please let her friends be okay.
Memory-Nara stepped into the Talon’s matrix and tapped the initialization sequence. A whiff of fire flowed into the vessel, and she felt an awareness of the vessel occupy a part of her head.
She guided it dispassionately into the air, and focused on the ship’s external sensors so she could get her bearings. Davidson’s startled-looking battalion stared up at her, and not far away stood her friends. She caught the shocked expression on Aran’s face as she sped away. The Talon burst out of the Spellship’s cargo bay, and zipped effortlessly into the atmosphere.
They shot into the sky over Shaya, quickly leaving the Spellship where it hovered next to the third branch. Memory-Nara poured fire into the drive to increase thrust. The Talon responded instantly and the world quickly fell away below them. She tapped the void sigil on all three rings, and switched to gravity magic as a power source once they departed Shaya’s protective dome.
A squadron of golden spellfighters glittered on the horizon, and instantly shifted course to make for her position. That was hardly surprising. A vessel flying like a bat out of a dragon’s maw had to be running for a reason, and Shayan war mages loved hunting down the guilty. At least it seemed unlikely that Ree would be one of them.
Memory-Nara altered her course to swing wide around the fighters, but they adjusted course to match. She used the abilities Neith had gifted her, and calculated their relative courses and speeds. They would reach her before she could open a Fissure. That meant either she fled deeper into the system and found another umbral shadow or she stood and fought them.
And then, just like that, the memory ended and Nara was back in the present. She stood in the Talon’s matrix, enmeshed in a situation created by Talifax. She’d stolen the Talon and run with it. She’d done so in full view of all Shayan forces, and
their conclusion was inescapable. Nara was either working with binders or bound herself.
Ree’s smug voice echoed through the bridge as the Talon automatically accepted a missive. “Hello, Pirate Girl. Where are you off to in such a hurry, I wonder?”
“I’m not really in the mood for your bullshit, Ree.” Nara focused on flying as she desperately sought a way out of this that didn’t end with her dead or imprisoned. Well played, Talifax.
She was faster than the spellfighters, and could probably evade them long enough to disappear deeper in system. Unfortunately, that would give Voria time to respond and the Spellship might be able to catch her. That would be catastrophic, because it was exactly what Talifax wanted.
Nara could see it now. Voria catching her, and her tearfully explaining exactly what had happened. How long until Voria lowered her guard, and Nara assassinated her? No, staying meant killing her friends. Talifax had already shown her that.
Of course, he’d also put her in her current predicament. Why did he want her here? Because he knew she’d run. It was in her nature. If he wanted that, did that mean she should do the opposite? Should she stay?
A shiver worked its icy fingers down her spine as she remembered stroking the trigger and watching Voria’s lifeless body slump to her chamber floor.
Staying was not an option. Running was, but not if it meant doing what Talifax expected. She wasn’t going to be anyone’s puppet, not even a god’s.
She needed the safety of the umbral depths, and that meant she couldn’t afford to be trapped here. She gave a frustrated sigh, then tried one last time to convince Ree. “Go back to Shaya, and we can pretend we never saw each other.”
“Now, why would I do that, when I can run you down like the traitor you are?” Ree gave a musical laugh. “I’m going to catch you, Pirate Girl. And after I blast that ship out from under you, I’m going to drag you back in chains to stand trial.”
