by Chris Fox
Voria snorted, but managed not to laugh.
“Yes, well then.” She cleared her throat, then closed her eyes.
A rainbow of light danced at the edges of her vision, endless reflections of possible futures. She saw people on this world growing prosperous. She saw them die from a mysterious plague. She saw them live, and thrive, and conquer the entire sector. She saw their world detonate, destroyed by the foul magic of Krox. It spun on and on in countless directions, and she struggled to hold on to any single possibility.
Navigating the flow was harder than it had been on her own. There were more possibilities, and they stretched further. To utilize this, she’d need to learn to follow a specific possibility to its logical conclusion. Unfortunately, there was no manual on doing so, and Ikadra had been remarkably little help beyond ‘fluffing her ego’ as the Ternus governor had said.
Voria started with places, rather than people. She quested through the sea of realities around New Texas, and saw a hundred ways the battle might end. Then she shifted to Ternus, but there was nothing to suggest a Krox attack. No possibility where Nebiat breached their defenses.
Finally she looked at Colony 3, and her blood ran cold. A Fissure opened, and some sort of probe emerged. So did a cloaked vessel, but the dozens of scans run by the Ternus defenders didn’t detect it. She quickly realized why.
A glittering ship appeared in orbit, its golden hull unmistakable. She was looking at the Talon, undoubtedly piloted by Nara. After a few moments a spray of missiles shot from the cargo bay, and spread out to descend to different points across the planet.
Each missile detonated, and a wave of grey-green, magical death swept across the world. All living things died, right down to the bacteria in the soil. In one instant, Nara murdered an entire world.
Voria forced her breathing to calm. She could feel her heart racing, and the anger clouding her vision. It was vital she remain detached. There was one other route she needed to investigate, particularly in light of the information about Nara destroying Colony 3.
She thought of Nebiat, and began navigating through a sea of possibilities that stretched in many directions. Almost instantly something bright exploded in her head, and she lost vision in her right eye for several moments. When it returned, it brought a spike of pain with it. She disconnected, and cradled her head in both hands.
“What happened?” Ikadra oozed concern.
“I—well, I’m not certain, honestly.” She blinked away the worst of the pain, and focused on Ikadra. It took several more moments than it should have. “I ran into something I couldn’t see. It was…blocked somehow.”
“Oh shit.” Ikadra’s sapphire pulsed very rapidly. “Did your head get all explode-y, and if so, what were you thinking about when it happened?”
“Yes, quite.” She rubbed her temples, then looked up. “I was trying to think of Nebiat when it happened.”
“I’d test it a few more times, but if you keep running into blocks, that suggests someone with some serious mojo doesn’t want you to know what’s going on with her.”
“Hmm.” She channeled a bit of life and the pain subsided. “I’ll forgo immediate testing, but I strongly suspect that’s what I encountered. Someone is hiding the Krox plan, perhaps Teodros himself.”
“Well, that sucks.” Ikadra pulsed forlornly. “I was hoping we’d get somewhere.”
“I was fighting and winning battles long before I could perceive the omniverse.” Voria rolled her shoulders, and picked up the staff. “All it means is that we must proceed with what I did forage. Colony 3 is going to be attacked, and I think we have time to do something about it.”
She didn’t mention that she’d seen Nara.
Voria strode over to the little folding desk Pickus had set up. Something he called a ‘sticky note’ was attached to the screen. It read, ‘push and say your name’. She depressed the button on the little black comm unit the note was affixed to, and the screen lit up.
“Majo—no, Colonel Voria, to speak with Ternus—”
The machine cut her off. “Thank you, Majo—no, Colonel Voria. The meeting organizer will join the quantum call shortly. Would you like to use the ambient audio or an external device?”
“I’m an external device!” Ikadra piped up, sapphire flashing excitedly. “Use me for audio, and I’ll relay the feed to Majo here.”
“Ambient audio is fine.” Voria overrode Ikadra with a threatening look.
A moment later she was saved from further awkwardness when the screen resolved into Fleet Admiral Kerr’s face. “Ah, Fleet Admiral. I wasn’t certain I could get this device to function.”
“Glad to see one of the most powerful mages in the sector figured out a basic comm.” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “So what did you want to speak with me about? Or is this something best discussed in person?”
“I think this device is fine.” She considered her words carefully, in case she was wrong. “I’ve performed an augury, and I know where the Krox are likely to strike next. You were right about Colony 3.” The risk of someone eavesdropping was outweighed by the gravity of the situation. “Worse, I identified one of our vessels there. We had a defector recently, a true mage of some strength.”
Kerr removed his cap, and seemed to age years in seconds. “Are you talking about Private Nara? The same woman who saved Marid?” He scratched under his beard. “Doesn’t wash. If she were a spy, she’d never have completed that ritual in the first place.”
“Yes, a question I’ve been turning over as well,” Voria admitted. “I don’t understand, unless she was recently bound and we were unaware of it. So far as I know there was no opportunity for that to occur, and even if there were, the girl has strong mental defenses. Quite frankly, Fleet Admiral, I don’t know why she did what she did. But the fact remains that Colony 3 is under imminent threat, and if you do not arrive quickly and in force you will lose that world.”
Kerr’s face fell. “We’ve gotten word that New Texas isn’t faring well. They can’t survive without reinforcements. Are you telling me that we need to abandon them?”
“Not at all.” Voria’s mouth firmed into a determined line. “I will take the Spellship to New Texas, and I will break that siege, so long as you can reinforce Colony 3 as quickly as possible. Remember that Nara can cloak the Talon.”
Kerr nodded gratefully. “My thanks, Colonel. I’ll speak to the governor and get things in motion. We’re not totally defenseless against invisibility, and should be able to catch them when they come through the Fissure. Godspeed.”
As the scry-screen went black Voria was left with a lingering doubt. Who had obscured the timeline around Nebiat? Clearly they wanted her at New Texas, and had ensured she’d be there. It smelled like a trap, but she had no idea where that trap lay. Who was manipulating events so deftly?
Soon she’d know, one way or the other. And she had a feeling she wouldn’t very much like the results.
38
Bad News
Aran let his gaze roam the assembled Ternus leadership. There was a good deal of fear, but not the wild-eyed kind that led to panic. These people knew they were in deep, but still thought maybe they could swim with the current. He needed to know if that was false bravado, or if they actually had a chance.
“Admiral,” Aran began, interrupting Nimitz’s string of insults aimed at Voria and the confederacy in general, “the Krox aren’t going to react kindly to my company punching through their lines. They’ll be on us, and soon. Respectfully, we need to get this place situated. Now.”
Nimitz’s jaw clicked shut and a vein throbbed in his temple. Aran got the sense the man wasn’t used to being interrupted, by anyone. “Son, if we weren’t at war—”
A tall, dark, mahogany-skinned woman rose at the far end of the table. Her dark hair was pulled into a smooth ponytail, and she wore one of the elaborate suits, complete with the rope around the neck. Why you’d voluntarily pre-tie a noose around your own neck remained a mystery to Ara
n.
He noticed that every last person at the table deferred to the woman. Even Tharn adopted a respectful stance, the first he’d seen from the grizzled reporter.
“May I have the floor, Admiral?” the woman asked in a clipped drawl. It was similar to Davidson’s, but more refined.
“’Course, Governor Bhatia.” Nimitz tipped an imaginary hat in her direction. His expression hardened again when it fell on Aran.
The governor licked her lips, and the instant she spoke he understood why these people showed her such deference. “We are in an unprecedented crisis. If the Krox seize this room, they not only co-opt our leadership, but they also gain control of enough weaponry to end all life on this world. Our own forces are insufficient to stop them. Since conventional arms have failed us, our only option is the arcane. We may not understand magic, Admiral Nimitz, but in this we do not need to. This man kills binders. Our people saw that on Marid. They saw it on Shaya. They saw it on Virkonna. Now, he fights on our world. The decision is yours, of course, but I would highly recommend deferring to this young man’s wisdom.” She raised an expectant eyebrow at Nimitz.
Nimitz gave the world’s most put upon sigh, then frowned at Aran. “You’re a damned fine soldier, I get that. Davidson wouldn’t shut up about that. But I ain’t seen any real proof that you can lead, and that scares the piss right outta me. Save our asses, son, and I’ll be gods-damned grateful.”
“Excellent.” The governor seized control of the conversation once more. She stepped from the table and glided gracefully toward a holomap dominating one corner of the room. The governor extended a long finger to spin the map, then she faced Aran. “As you can see, we’re on the 28th level of this facility. The Krox will need to penetrate each successive level of security, but if they do so, eventually they will reach us here. There is nowhere else to run. No secret tunnel out of the mountain. The battle will come down to this room, and both sides know it.”
Aran walked to the hologram and extended an experimental hand. He moved the image, and was pleased to see it responded just like a spell might have. He zoomed it outwards to show the entire facility. “These narrow lines, what are they?” A trio of white lines paralleled most of the areas of each level.
“Ventilation shafts,” Nimitz called. He rose from the table and approached the hologram. “That’s our air, son. We’ve got two levels of filters. The first are more conventional. The second are from the Inurans. Consortium claims they’ll clean any magical toxin, and the salesman was real convincing. You think they’ll work, or should we consider that a point of failure?”
“They’ll work,” Aran allowed. The Consortium did fine work, as his armor attested. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t still be exploited. Air magic will allow someone to become gaseous. A binder could send minions through there, and they could burst out wherever you’ve got a vent.”
“LT’s right,” Crewes boomed. He approached the hologram. “I saw some on the way in. Wights. Nasty critters. Incorporeal, so you can’t hurt ‘em with normal weapons. You’ve got to use magic, though fire can put the hurt on ‘em too. You got any flamethrowers? Please tell me you got flamethrowers.”
“Admiral?” Bhatia turned to Nimitz, who stood with his arms folded.
“Only a handful.” He gave a frustrated sigh. “Son, I’m going to level with you. We got caught with our pants down. When the Krox hit the system, we had no idea how quickly they’d make atmo, or that they even knew this facility existed. We had three hours notice, which was just enough time to call in a battalion of Marines. We’ve got plenty of ordnance, and years of food, but not enough men to hold the line.”
Aran considered that. He studied the hologram again, taking in the entire facility. “The good news about wights is that they can’t inflict mischief, as they can only affect living tissue. The first thing I’d suggest doing is pulling back all living squads, and relying on automated defenses on all levels above this one.” He turned back to the admiral. “I realize that may sound extreme and that we’re effectively ceding 27 levels, but if we’re short on troops we can’t protect that much ground.”
The Admiral gave a sharp nod. “Sound logic, son.”
“Can we expect any relief from Ternus?” Aran asked.
“Possibly,” the governor ventured. “Ternus is not so immune to politics as we appear, and there’s bad blood between New Texas and the capital.”
“Bullshit,” the admiral snapped. “That’s not enough to keep them from riding to our rescue. That ain’t the real worry. They’ll send relief, unless they believe there’s an assault coming on Ternus, or on Colony 3.”
“Colony 3?” Aran asked.
“It’s the breadbasket of Ternus, of the sector really,” Bhatia explained. “Eighty percent of our food comes from Colony 3, and that percentage is higher on the capital. If it were assaulted, Ternus would have no choice but to respond, so I believe they will wait to commit their forces until they ascertain the extent of the invasion.”
“Do you have a way to communicate with ships in orbit?” Aran stroked his beard as he studied the map. “If we can’t get immediate support, maybe Davidson can keep the pressure on their fleet.”
Nimitz turned to one of the techs hovering around the edge of the room. “Get Davidson on the line.”
“Yes, sir.” The olive-uniformed tech snapped a tight salute, then punched away at a datapad. A second hologram sprang up, this one directly over the table. It showed the Wyrm Hunter’s command bridge, with Davidson staring out from the command matrix.
“Captain Davidson,” Nimitz rumbled. He leaned closer to the image. “Can you give us your current fleet disposition? What are those scaly bastards up to?”
“Sir, it looks like they’re concentrating all ground forces around Fort Crockett. Their orbital defenses have taken up position around it, and appear ready to respond if we make a play.” Davidson’s face fell. “I’ve also got some bad news, sir.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense, son.”
Davidson looked uncomfortable. “Sir, we’ve got intel that Colony 3 is going to be hit. The capital just issued an eyes only priority one that we’re responding with full force. The primary kill target is the Talon, sir.”
Aran’s grip tightened around Narlifex’s hilt. Nara was working with the Krox?
“Has Ree heard?” Aran asked, though in his heart he knew she already had. That was why she wasn’t on the bridge with Davidson.
“I’m sorry, man.” Davidson shook his head. “She took every last spellfighter and headed for Colony 3. We’re down to the Wyrm Hunter and a few surviving platforms up here. We can keep their air in line, but there’s no way we can reach you on the ground. You’re on your own.”
Aran nodded. He looked around the assembled faces, and saw realization dawning on many. They were starting to understand how unlikely it was that any of them would survive. This was the moment when each would be tested. He couldn’t change that, but he could offer a little help. Seeing a leader would give these people hope.
He shrugged as if Davidson had just related an incoming storm instead of their almost certain deaths. “It is what it is. If those bastards want this room, it’s going to cost them—I can promise you that. Send word if Voria contacts us. We’ve got a lot of work down here to do in the meantime.” He turned to the admiral. “Permission to set up some defenses, sir?”
“Granted, son. Save our gods-damned bacon.”
39
The Price
The door hissed shut behind Skare, sealing him inside Jolene’s office. A week ago he’d have considered this hostile territory. Now, it was the abode of his closest ally.
“Skare.” Jolene inclined her head, then rose from behind the desk. She approached until she stood within easy reach, and offered a tentative smile. “I’m ready.”
“No, you aren’t. I cannot stress this enough, Jolene.” Skare rested his hand on the matron’s shoulder, and was pleased she accepted the gesture. His old rival would hav
e recoiled, or possibly attacked. “Talifax isn’t like anyone, or anything, you have ever met. He could snuff one or both of us like candles.”
Jolene laughed derisively, then raised her hands to take in her office. “We are in the most heavily warded room in the sector. I don’t care who this Talifax thinks he is. He—”
Skare froze. The temperature had dropped several degrees, and the tiny hairs on his arms were standing up in a terrifyingly familiar way. Talifax had arrived. Skare knew how heady the blood was, and hoped that Jolene possessed the good sense not to challenge a demigod.
“Please, do not let me interrupt,” rumbled a voice from the shadows. A patch of darkness obscured Talifax. Interesting. It appeared he was unwilling to reveal himself fully to Jolene. “You were saying that you did not care who I believe myself to be.”
Jolene’s jaw worked, and for the first time Skare experienced a small swell of pity for an opponent. He remembered the terror when he’d discovered that Talifax could completely ignore wards. It was impossible to forget the bloom of horror, the knowledge that all your power and magic meant nothing. That they were wayward children who’d finally met an adult.
“I apologize, mighty Talifax,” Jolene managed in a near whisper. Her face had gone nearly bloodless, and her eyes were fixed on the darkness in the corner. “Please excuse my arrogance.”
“Skare tells me that you have been converted to our cause.” Talifax spoke as if Jolene hadn’t. “I have come to ascertain the truth of this. If I find that he is incorrect, your existence will end.” Skare hated that emotionless voice, so calm and measured. He had no doubt Talifax could and would do exactly as promised.
