by Chris Fox
Their world had sworn an oath to the Confederacy, and by all the gods living and dead, Voria would see that Shaya lived up to it.
14
Need a Name
Aran dropped his pack in the corner of the officer’s quarters Davidson had graciously offered. It beat bunking in the barracks, though he’d definitely grown spoiled during his time on the Talon. He considered laying down for an hour, but there was just too much to do. Voria had set a strict time table, and he needed to secure some equipment before he met with the crew to finalize their prep.
He sketched a fire sigil and the small scry-screen on the wall activated. It took several seconds until the missive was accepted, then Kazon’s bearded face filled the screen. “Brother, your timing couldn’t be worse. I only have moments. What can I do for you?”
“I resigned my commission today,” he began, then paused as he considered the swiftest way to ask for what he needed, “I’ve decided to start a mercenary company, and Ternus has already offered us a job. I’ve got a line of credit, plus a fairly big pile of scales from Virkon.”
“…And you need equipment. That I can do. Send a list to my secretary. We have a Shayan depot, and I can have anything you need delivered to the Hunter.” Kazon frowned. He licked his lips, and his expression softened. “Brother, I know you have many concerns and I do not seek to add to them, but…I am worried. We are flying blind in the depths, and we are hunted. Stay safe. I will contact you when I can.”
The screen went dark. Aran was more than a little shocked. Kazon had always been jovial when they’d spoken, but he seemed distracted and…well, frightened. What had rattled the big man? He hated this cryptic crap. If only he had more time. It looked like Kazon needed help, and he wished he were in a position to provide it.
Aran sighed. At least he’d secured the equipment—well, theoretically at least.
He exited his quarters and headed into the neighboring barracks, where the rest of the squad was bunked. Crewes still managed menacing in his fatigues, but definitely looked odd outside of his armor. Bord and Kezia were using an empty bunk as a makeshift table, and were playing Kem’Hedj.
“Crewes, did you have time to get a list of gear requirements together?” Aran asked as he flopped down on the bunk next to the sergeant.
“First thing I took care of, LT. You know how much I hate being without armor. It’s bullshit enough that Nara made off with our ride, but taking our armor too? That’s low.” Crewes’s frown was more disappointed than angry. He shook his head sadly, then continued, “Anyway, enough of the pity party. I ordered us four suits of Mark XI, each customized to match the pilot. I added a couple new spellrifles, and the conventional ordinance. Still not sure why you think we’ll need that non-magical stuff.” The sergeant bit into an apple and chewed thoughtfully.
“Even after all this time and training, we run out of spells quickly,” Aran pointed out. “Ternus makes some pretty nasty explosive rounds. The kind of stuff that might stop an enforcer, if you hit it right. I want us to start practicing using both, to prolong our combat effectiveness.”
“Can’t we just drink potions?” Bord raised an eyebrow. “Last time I tried using a gun the thing jammed.”
“It jammed because you ran out of bullets.” Kezia punched Bord in the arm. She looked to Aran with a smirk. “He’s occasionally right, though, and this happens to be one of those times. We have more potions than I can count. I put out the word to the drifters, and they’ll do anything to help you after you saved the Dims. We have enough beer for months.”
“I’ll have Davidson assign someone to tutor us once we get the guns.” Aran climbed back to his feet with a grunt.
“Hey, Aran,” Bord ventured. He didn’t look Aran in the eye. “Are we, ah, gonna talk about Nara?”
Aran sat back down on the bunk, pushed down by the weight of Bord’s words. He’d been so busy, he’d managed not to think about the situation.
“Yeah, we should do that,” he said. There was no sense sugar-coating it. He scrubbed at his beard, which badly needed a trim. “Nara stole the Talon. Voria tried to locate her, and failed. We have no idea why, or where Nara’s going.” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “She’s been acting strangely for the past couple weeks, but I refuse to believe she’s betrayed us. Until we learn otherwise, I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt.”
“Respectfully, sir, fuck her,” Crewes snapped. Aran had rarely seen that kind of fury in his eyes. “She walked out on us right before we’re going to war, and she stole our damned ride. If she needed a ship, she could have taken Ree’s spellfighter or something. Not screwed us.”
Aran hated admitting it, but Crewes had a point. Nara had screwed them, with no explanation.
“I’m not giving up on her.” Kez bristled up at the sergeant. “We don’t know why she left. Yeah, it was shitty. But we have enough problems to focus on without laying them all at her doorstep.”
“Whatever the situation with Nara, we’ve got more important business.” Aran took control of the conversation again. “We’ve agreed to form this new outfit, but it isn’t official until we have a name. Anyone have a suggestion?”
“Bord’s Harem. We could recruit only women, and—ow!” Bord cut himself off as Kezia raised a fist.
“I didn’t even hit you that time.” Kezia eyed him sidelong.
“It’s a reflex now.” Bord grinned.
“Aran’s Marauders,” Crewes suggested. “Aran’s got a name now. People know him on Shaya, and even on Virkon. We should use that.”
Bord frowned. “He’s already in charge. He doesn’t have to be in the freaking name too.”
“No, I think it’s a good idea,” Kezia said. “Sarge is right. We can’t joost assume Ternus will keep paying us. We’ve got a pretty good pile of cash, but that could run dry, eventually. We need to make a name for ourselves, and being associated with the stuff Aran’s already done is a good thing.”
Aran shook his head. “I don’t like it. Mostly the marauder part. I get that having my name makes sense, even if it does make me feel as pompous as Thalas.”
“Yeah, marauder doesn’t make too much sense I guess,” Crewes allowed. “We don’t do too much marauding. Maybe something more like defenders. Or scouters. Or like, ass kickers.”
“We could be Aran’s Handsome Band,” Bord said. No one dignified it with a reply.
Kezia snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. Aran’s Outriders.”
“That will piss off the Wyrms back on Virkon,” Bord cautioned.
“Good point.” Aran found a smile growing as he considered how the Wyrms would react to hearing him use the title without serving them. “Aran’s Outriders it is.”
15
Unpleasant Duty
Aran dreaded his next task, but like it or not, it had to be done. He waited in the Hunter’s aft hangar bay, which was completely empty at the moment. A golden spellfighter screamed into the hangar, zipping through the blue membrane and landing within two meters of Aran.
He didn’t flinch. He merely waited until the translucent blue steps descended from the cockpit. A helmet-less Ree appeared a moment later, scarlet hair spilling down the same armor from the fight with Kheross, despite the damage. The scorching and dents were mostly superficial, but he’d have expected her to have dealt with it by now.
“Let’s make this quick, Mongrel.” Ree glided imperiously down the steps. “You want something. Much as I hate to admit it, I still owe you for the Dims, and for Erika. I want to be out of your debt as soon as possible. So let’s hear it.”
He enjoyed how blunt she could be, even if her delivery usually made mockery of him.
“Fair enough. Ternus is getting hammered. I know you’ve seen the missive.” Aran wrapped his hand around Narlifex’s hilt, and the blade thrummed a greeting. “If we don’t help them, they’re done, and you know it.”
“The Caretakers have forbidden us from leaving this world.” Ree shook her head sympathetically. “It is
n’t that I don’t want to help, but this I cannot do, Aran. If I leave, much less ask others to go too, they’ll strip me of rank and title. They’ll take my fighter.”
“Damn the rules, Ree. In order for them to take your fighter they’d have to send forces to Ternus to claim it.” Aran could feel his temper rising, and fought to keep it in check. “While they’re there, maybe they could, oh, I don’t know, kill some Krox. You realize that after Ternus, you’re next, right?”
Ree blinked. “You’re? Not we’re?” she seemed taken aback.
“I resigned my commission this morning. I’ve got no reason to stay here, not when the war is being fought elsewhere.” He had no particular loyalty to Shaya, though he also held no animosity for it. He just didn’t need to be here any more.
“You’ve got no way off world from what I hear.” Ree gave a very self-satisfied smile. “I guess I was right about Pirate Girl after all. She stole one of the most valuable ships in the sector, and you didn’t suspect a thing. Let me guess. First she slept with you. You lowered your guard, and bam…she took off with the most valuable starship in the sector.”
That kicked him in the gut. Hard.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much how it went down,” Aran admitted. It hurt, but he kept probing the wound, the way you kept touching a scab. “If you come with us you can taunt me about it the entire way. And I’ll admit you were right, every time.”
Ree deflated a little, probably because she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted.
Her expression softened, and she brushed a lock of scarlet over her shoulder. “I wish I could help, Aran. I do.” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”
He closed his eyes, just for a moment. He knew exactly how Nara would respond, and he didn’t like it. This kind of manipulation wasn’t his forte, but there was a lot riding on the outcome.
“Where do you think Frit went?” he demanded, opening his eyes and fixing them on Ree.
Her beautiful face twisted into a snarl at the name. She glared hard at Aran. “Into the depths, for all I care.”
“I think you do care. Frit is a powerful true mage. I’ve seen her melt defending units. She escaped with, what, forty more Ifrit? That’s a hell of an artillery squad, don’t you think?” Aran met Ree’s gaze without flinching.
“And you think I’m responsible for the damage they’ll do to Ternus.” Ree’s hand tightened around the hilt of her spellblade until the knuckles went white. She fought some internal war, and her gaze dropped as she spoke. “And you’re right. I am responsible. And yes, she will probably be at New Texas. Dammit, Aran, they will take my command if I do this. They’ll take everything.”
Aran reached out slowly and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I realize what I’m asking, Ree. I know how important your people are to you, and I know what your place among them means. But your leaders are wrong. They’re scared, and that fear is blinding them. If Ternus falls, this war is over. This is our last chance to resist. Our last chance to save everyone we love.”
Ree’s eyes shone with unshed tears and she gazed wildly around the hangar.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, a tear finally breaking free. “If I stay, I have to watch as that traitorous Ifrit murders her way through our sworn allies. But if I go, there is no coming back.”
Aran didn’t envy her the choice, and he knew that further words from him would only cloud the issue. She needed the mental space to make her own decision, so he stood there silently and waited. Almost a minute passed before she finally looked up at him. The tears were gone. The strength had returned.
She mounted the first step to her fighter. “I’ll speak to every Kamiza. I’ll explain the need. I can’t promise anyone will answer, but even if no one else comes I will be there with you when you leave for New Texas. Frit is my responsibility, and I’m going to make sure she never hurts anyone again.”
16
To War
Aran strode onto the Wyrm Hunter’s bridge for the first time in what felt like several lifetimes. After spending so much time on the Talon, the limited matrices were strange. He missed the comfortable chairs, and found standing…odd.
“Crewes, you’ve got the offensive matrix. Get our scry-screen up,” he ordered as he walked toward the central matrix. “Bord, you’re on defensive.”
“Sure thing.” The shorter man ducked into the spinning rings. “Yeah, that’s right, I ain’t calling you sir, neither.”
“Bord,” Crewes snapped. The dark-skinned Marine stared Bored down from the offensive matrix. “I will literally fry you.”
“Looks like your crew is just as colorful as ever,” Davidson said as he strode onto the bridge behind them. “We’re all buttoned up below. You ready to do this?”
“The sooner we’re off this rock, the sooner we can get into the fight,” Aran said. He tapped the first fire sigil, then the second and third in quick succession. “They probably won’t challenge us until we’re airborne, but if they do we should be able to get away without much trouble. Bord, I want you ready with a ward just in case. Hopefully Voria keeps them busy.”
“I’ll stand by, sir.” Bord eyed Crewes fearfully.
Crewes tapped a sigil and the scry-screen flared to life. “They ain’t even noticed us. Looks like they’re all focused on the major. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”
High above them, Aran watched as the Spellship lifted slowly into the air and began drifting skyward. The pitted hull was far from pristine, but the dark stains were gone. It looked like they’d finished cleansing the outside at least.
She was long and sleek, and glittered in the sun as she pulled away from Shaya. Only when the Spellship passed by the rest of the Shayan war fleet did it become clear how much larger she was than any other vessel present.
“So how do you want to handle your prisoner?” Davidson asked, drawing Aran’s attention from the Spellship. “That Kheross guy creeps me out in a bad way. The last thing we need is him breaking loose while we’re dealing with the Krox.”
“Let’s make him my problem,” Aran suggested, though he was mostly focused on piloting. Kheross was going to be pissed when he found out about Rhea being left behind with Eros.
“Sir,” Crewes called again. “We’ve got squadrons of fighters lifting off from the fourth, seventh, and eighth branches.”
The screen shifted to show three clusters of golden spellfighters rising from the tree and streaking in their direction.
“Send a missive to the lead fighter,” Aran ordered. He hoped he was right, because if those ships were hostile, the Hunter would be hard pressed to keep them at bay long enough to escape. They were light, fast, and could deliver a lot of punishment when backed with the kind of firepower Shayan war mages could bring to bear.
The scry-screen shifted to show the inside of a cockpit, with Ree’s face taking up most of the screen. Her expression was pained, but she spoke with confidence. “I’ve spoken to everyone I trusted, including Erika. She spoke on your behalf, and it was that more than anything else that convinced the others to come.”
“Wait, those fighters are coming with us?” Davidson blinked at Aran.
Aran shot him a smile, but spoke to Ree. “You can dock in the aft hangar where we met. That’s all yours. We’ll stay out of there. You can set it up however you want. Just send a missive to Major Davidson here, and I’m sure he’d be happy to get you whatever supplies you need.”
“Thank you so much for coming, uh, what’s your title?” Davidson asked.
“Master Reekala.” Ree straightened proudly.
“Well thank you, Master Reekala. We’re grateful for the help.”
“It isn’t free,” Ree said. “I have a condition. If the chance arises to kill any or all of the Ifrit who left Shaya, then I want free rein to hunt them. Do we have a deal?”
“Davidson?” Aran asked. He certainly had no problem with that. He’d liked Frit from the little he’d seen, and he understood the desire for a slave to be free. Better
than anyone. But that didn’t excuse her working with the Krox. That he couldn’t forgive.
“Agreed. I’ll see that you have whatever you need. If you can counter the Ifrit, that will help tremendously.” He nodded gratefully.
“Now all we have to do is escape Shaya,” Aran said. “Get to your stations everyone. We’re making for the Umbral Shadow. Let’s hope Voria can keep them busy.”
17
They're Going to Fight
Voria strode onto the bridge of the Spellship, and was immensely pleased by what she saw. The silvery walls were pristine, the halls well lit from the soft, magical glow of the ceilings. The entire ship pulsed with clean power and her song—if it wasn’t just Voria’s imagination—seemed to be…whole.
Unlike the bridge of every other vessel, there was no visible matrix. Instead, there was a wall-length scry-screen that showed Shaya slowly falling away as they gained altitude.
“Ikadra, I understand I can fly the ship using you as a matrix, but there must be an alternative. Where is the backup matrix?” She walked to the screen and peered down at the gigantic redwood.
“The whole room is the matrix,” Ikadra pulsed happily. “If you look at the walls, all the sigils you’d normally see on your primitive rings are present. The magic emanates from this room. But the vessel is different in a lot more ways. She’s alive.” The pulsing slowed. “And she thinks I’m a child. With a ‘juvenile’ sense of humor. How rude.”
“I think she and I are going to get along.” Voria allowed a smile. She reached out experimentally with her senses and felt the magic in the walls. There it was, the matrix. But it wasn’t like any other matrix she’d worked with. It was…more. “Ikadra, what does the fourth ring do?”
