Every Wind of Change

by Frank Tuttle

  “They’ll try to claw their way in anyway,” Meralda replied wearily. “We’ll just have to risk it.”

  Donchen produced a short bright sword. “The crew broke these out. Their personal House weapons. Each made of the finest steel, each in the hand of a man determined to live. If we are boarded, it will not be without a heavy cost. To the bugs.”

  Skoof’s aerial suddenly retracted. “Mr. Gliff sends his compliments,” he reported. “He notes that Celestia is already under siege. Nevertheless, he is attempting to restore Celestia’s flight systems, as you suggested. Her armaments as well. He wishes you luck, Mage.” The mechanical chuckled. “He asked me to inform Mrs. Primsbite and Miss Bekin that he will make the promenade deck available for a dance later this evening.”

  “He’s a rake, he is,” Mrs. Primsbite said, smiling.

  “I believe he fails to understand the gravity of the situation.”

  “Oh, shut your bloody piehole,” Mug said. “We just whacked some deep void beastie off a tripping wheel’s back. You think we can’t handle a few overgrown cutter beetles?”

  “I’m going to use that quote in the saga I am writing, Mr. Mug,” Skoof replied. “I do hope you survive to hear it.”

  The jabberwock soared past the glass. Its ragged wings were spread wide, and Meralda’s mother clung to its bony neck.

  “Mother!” screamed Meralda.

  Her mother turned and waved toward the glass. She held a sword in her hand, and Meralda saw her mouth move as she shouted at the Yangzhou.

  “Oh, now that’s just like her isn’t it?” Mug said. “Bloody determined to be a pest and she’ll go to any lengths for attention.”

  “Mug,” Meralda said, her face a mask of rage. “Shut. Up.”

  Mrs. Primsbite’s hand fell on Meralda’s shoulder. “She as safe there as she would be aboard. I imagine it was the only way to get the creature aloft.”

  Meralda’s heart froze. I did tell it to go kill Mag, she thought. Right in front of Mother.

  The jabberwock’s wings beat, and the creature soared away, easily outpacing the ship. Meralda was still watching when the heaps and rows of the Waste crept into view.

  “Oh my,” Skoof said. “The anomaly is gone. Celestia is exposed.”

  The neat rows of derelicts grew closer. Dark no longer, thousands of lights shone amid the towering forms. Lights, and rising columns of smoke.

  Skiff’s dome rose and turned. “The suppression field is extinguished. I suggest we increase our altitude. Various badly damaged craft are restoring to function below us. The results are often violent.”

  As he spoke, a series of explosions erupted, battering the Yangzhou with the force of their detonations. Chunks of debris hurtled past as the pilot sent the ship into a steep climb.

  “Poor devils,” Donchen whispered.

  “Who?” Mrs. Primsbite asked.

  “Us,” Donchen said. The ship rocked as something solid struck and bounced away. “Still, this ought to give the Mag something new to worry about.”

  “Celestia too,” Mug said. “Skoof, how tough is her hull?”

  “Built to withstand violent emergency re-entry. High temperatures, massive pressures.”

  “Big chunks of flaming metal?”

  “To a point, yes.”

  “Donchen,” Meralda said. “Ask the pilot if he can increase our speed.”

  Donchen spoke, and the Yangzhou surged ahead.

  The debris field burned. Fires spread along the neat rows, leaping from wreck to wreck amid blinding cracks of lightning and bone-shaking peals of thunder. A gargantuan cylinder shot from the ruins, spinning and trailing gouts of flame. It hurtled past the spaceship and went on to explode against the Hub’s artificial sky, raining fiery debris down in all directions.

  “How much longer?” Meralda asked.

  “Five minutes, maybe less,” Skoof said. “Mr. Gliff reports he has been forced to abandon the power on reset procedure. The Mag have nearly breached the hull. He is trying something he calls a dead hand jump instead. He asks that you wish him luck.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Mug said. “I rather liked the old coot.”

  Meralda watched the thick clouds of billowing soot expand and boil below. “We’ll hardly be able to see them if it’s burning there too.”

  “The Mag won’t be able to see us either,” Donchen said. “Might I suggest we descend into the top of the smoke?”

  Meralda took in a breath, weighing the risks. “Do it. Skoof. Your fix on Celestia – how accurate is it?”

  “Extremely. To within a tiny fraction of your inch.”

  “Then advise Donchen of any required course corrections. I’ll be busy for a moment.”

  “Busy with what?” Mug asked.

  Meralda did not reply. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried her Sight.

  It came. She smiled, and she pushed it out, searching the wrecks below.

  Wild magic nearly blinded her. The radiance was intense, the complexity bewildering. “I don’t need to understand it all,” Meralda said, unaware she spoke aloud. “I just need to look.”

  “Well, all righty then,” she heard Mug say. Skoof suggested a slight turn to starboard. Another explosion rocked the hull, and the arcane flash of it intense. She looked away, found the brightest of the wrecks below, concentrated on it.

  The shape alone of the magical constructs was so strange it left her nauseated. The lines twisted in curves that should not be possible, moved in directions that did not exist.

  “You,” said Meralda.

  “Me?” asked Mug.

  “Hush,” Meralda hissed. She stared with her Sight, abandoning any attempt to make sense of the bewildering shapes and patterns surrounding the wreck. She just took them in, let them lead her, let them shuttle and weave back to their point of origin.

  There, in their midst. A gathering, a folding, an intersection of vast powers, brought to a knot, tied in a geometry that made Meralda’s head ache. She forced her Sight closer, and closer, and then she was inside the knot. She was lost for an instant in a place that was at once minuscule and endless, but so very, very hot. Meralda grinned in triumph.

  “Nearly there, Mistress,” Mug said. She barely heard his voice but did feel the gentle bump of his cage against her forehead. “You still with us?”

  Meralda opened her eyes.

  The Yangzhou flew through a thick black cloud. She could see nothing but the rush of it past the glass.

  “Take us down,” she said. “Donchen. Fire at will.”

  “Supper is on me if you hit Miss Bekin,” Mug said.

  The ship descended. The wall of smoke gave way.

  Below was bedlam. Fires raged. Flashes and glows joined the thunder – but there, dead ahead, Meralda spied Celestia’s long round hull.

  The Mag swarmed her. A pile of their moving bodies rose above her landing legs, reaching halfway up the hull. More Mag seethed, converging, a dark tide circling the starship, limbs clawing at her by the tens of thousands.

  Above her, a dragon soared. He dived upon her hull. A column of fire poured from his jaws, splashing down on the Mag and setting them ablaze. The dragon roared and turned, his wings straining as he reversed for another pass.

  “Fire,” Donchen snapped, in both Kingdom and Hang. The Yangzhou banked, and her cannons roared. Hundreds of Mag were flung away, tumbling and falling with each cannon blast.

  “I have word from Celestia,” Skoof said, calmly. “Mr. Gliff says it’s now or never and suggests we retreat. I gather Celestia’s engines may explode.”

  “No retreat. Bank and fire from starboard.” Meralda watched in horror as the jabberwock sailed at the massed Mag ranks. The creature darted just above them, slashing with its limbs and wingtips. Dozens of Mag were slain, some by Meralda’s mother’s sword, which she wielded like a madwoman.

  The Yangzhou turned. Her cannons coughed, over and over. A nearby explosion turned the smoky twilight to full noon.

  Celestia move
d.

  For a single terrible instant, Meralda was sure the craft was falling over on its side. But then it righted. Flames erupted beneath her. Celestia rose, Mag falling and slipping from her hull by the thousands.

  The jabberwock shrieked in triumph. It raked at the Mag on the port side of Celestia’s hull, while Bruce the dragon incinerated the ones to starboard. The dragon completed its pass, reversed, and then leaped onto Celestia’s hull. Bruce flung himself at the remaining Mag, grabbing at Mag soldiers, hurling them off with claws and tail.

  “She’s aloft!” Mug shouted. “Meralda, she’s airborne!”

  “Skoof,” Meralda said. “Tell Mr. Gliff to match our altitude. Nameless. Faceless. The flying Mag?”

  “Converging from all directions,” said a crow. “Nearest will arrive – now.”

  “Climb! Into the smoke!”

  Dull thuds began to sound all along the Yangzhou’s hull. Meralda had a brief glimpse of Celestia as she shot skyward. Dozens of Mag swarmed her hull, surrounding the furious dragon. Bruce reared, neck arched, gathering another belch of fire, but then Celestia vanished amid the roiling smoke.

  Frantic voices sounded from the Captain’s panel.

  “They are gaining entry,” Donchen reported. He moved to the gangway, his sword raised. “I should assist.”

  “Don’t you dare die on me.” Meralda turned to Skoof. “I need to speak to Mr. Gliff. Directly. Right now. Can you do that?”

  Skoof’s dome bobbed. An instant later, Mr. Gliff spoke.

  “You’re in a pickle,” said Mr. Gliff. “Got those things all over you.”

  “You mentioned weapons once. Are they functional?”

  Meralda could almost see the old man’s grin. “Oh yes, they certainly are. Be a pleasure to demonstrate them, lass. Shall I?”

  “Can you, in this smoke?”

  “Celestia has remarkable vision. Ask your pilot to hold still. This won’t take a moment.”

  “Proceed,” Meralda said. Flashes so bright they pierced the billows of smoke lit up the pilot house.

  The shouts and blows of steel on bulkheads sounding from the panel immediately fell silent. A barrage of sharp pops followed. Meralda let out a sigh of relief when she heard Donchen’s voice call out.

  “Boarders repelled,” he said. “But we’ve got some new holes.”

  “The buggers appear to be flying blind,” said Mr. Gliff. More flashes, dimmer ones, lit the inky black. “We’ll handle the ones that wander too close. Bruce has put paid to my lot. I don’t know what you did, madam, but this old man is heartily grateful.”

  “We’re not home yet,” Meralda replied. “Can you get Bruce back aboard?”

  “Already done. You should have seen him, Miss. He fought like a devil. Oh.” Meralda heard Celestia speak. “Seems we also have the jabberwock and your mother aboard. Both unharmed.

  “Can Celestia find a place in this murk free of flying Mag?”

  “She can.”

  “If you’ll be so kind as to guide us there? Open the loading ramp, when it’s safe.”

  “My pleasure,” Mr. Gliff replied. “We’ll stay in contact.”

  Meralda sank to the deck. Mug settled down beside her. “Not a bad day’s work, Captain,” he said. “Isn’t travel fun?”

  29

  Though the air beyond her hull was thick with billowing black smoke, Celestia’s viewscreens showed nothing but leaden gray sky in every direction.

  A few winged Mag flew aimlessly back and forth. Only two had approached Celestia since she took the Yangzhou’s crew and passengers aboard, and the ship easily avoided both Mag by gliding away in utter silence.

  “So, we can go,” Meralda said. “We need only fly toward the deck. The wheel will open a port for us, and then we fly the void home.”

  Mr. Gliff, still seated at the pilot’s station, nodded. “But in so doing, you’ll be leaving these beasties behind, free to get up to mischief. Which might include raising a ship of their own, from the derelicts.”

  “Which is why we remain.” Meralda paced Celestia’s bridge. “Are we all agreed we cannot ignore the threat posed by the Mag?”

  “Agreed,” Mrs. Primsbite said. Donchen nodded. Miss Bekin shrugged.

  “We could go home, raise a fleet, and come back,” Mug said. “Skoof. You said there were about eighty thousand of these bugs.”

  “Approximately, yes.”

  “Mistress, how are we going to swat eighty thousand horse-sized cockroaches? Let’s go home. Let King Yvin worry about exterminating the Mag. If the bugs manage to get anything to fly out of those flaming wrecks down there, I’ll eat it.”

  “I am not properly a member of your party, Mage,” Skoof said. “Nevertheless. I agree that leaving the Mag with access to revived technologies is dangerous. They have surprised me more than once over the course of the centuries. I am forced to admit their capabilities have risen to every occasion.”

  “Which is why they must be wiped out,” Meralda said. “All of them. Without pity or mercy.”

  Meralda saw her mother beam and looked away.

  “I don’t disagree with that,” Mug said. “It’s the timing I take issue with. Why now?”

  “Because now the Mag are confined to the Hub.” Meralda faced Mug’s cage. “Skoof, how many times did the survivors of the original event underestimate the Mag?

  “Over and over.”

  “And how many of those persons survived their mistake?”

  “None.”

  Mug rustled his leaves. “Fine. So we stay, and meticulously slaughter each specimen, while maintaining a ledger. Even if we could chase them down and fry them all with Celestia’s—what did you call that flashy thing, Mr. Gliff?”

  “Our particle cannons,” replied Mr. Gliff. “Or the kinetic projectors.”

  Mug turned his blue eyes to Meralda. “What makes you think the Mag will just line up and stand still while we blast away with cannons and whatnot? They’ll scatter and hide. We’ll never get them all.”

  “I don’t propose we use Celestia’s weapons at all.” Meralda took a seat at the navigator’s station. “I have something else in mind.”

  Donchen spoke. “Something drastic, I take it.”

  “Celestia,” Meralda said. “What are the interior dimensions of the Hub?”

  “The Hub is composed of a flattened sphere measuring some eighty miles in diameter and thirty miles wide. The interior volume is twenty quadrillion cubic feet.”

  “Thank you.” Meralda’s expression turned grim. “Continue. Assume a source of heat is introduced into the Hub. This heat source is a sphere six hundred feet in diameter, with a temperature of ninety thousand degrees. Please outline the effects to the Hub’s environment if this sphere is present for, say, twenty hours.”

  “The interior atmosphere would ionize and become a plasma,” replied Celestia. “The Hub’s internal ambient temperature would average, over time, at one thousand, four hundred, and twelve degrees.”

  “Would the Hub sustain structural damage?” asked Meralda.

  “None.”

  All of Mug’s eyes swiveled toward Meralda. “I’ll ask. Do you have a small sun in your pocket?”

  “No, of course not. But not far away, there’s a wreck. I don’t understand what powers it, or how, but I saw enough to know that if we damage what remains of its engines, it will dump the remainder of its stored energies in the fashion I described.”

  “Marvelous,” her mother said. “So, we damage this outlandish contraption and fly away, leaving the insects to fry. I approve, daughter. It is at once efficient and inescapable, to our foes. Well done.”

  “It’s awful and monstrous. There’s nothing marvelous about it.”

  “But it is necessary,” Donchen replied. “Could we use Celestia’s weapons to initiate this conflagration?”

  Mr. Gliff’s brow furrowed. “We’ll have to see this wreck, first. See if it’s shielded, and if so, with what.”

  “Just when I thought we were
done with this place,” Mug grumbled. “But sure, fine, let’s start the biggest hottest campfire in history on our way out the door. A thousand degrees, what could possibly go wrong?” His coils buzzed as he sailed for the bridge exit, which opened as he drew near. “I’m going to go talk to Bruce. You lot don’t need my help igniting a baby sun.”

  Meralda let him go. “I don’t like this either. But we can’t just ignore the threat.”

  “One other point.” Donchen said. “Do you think the wheel will object?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Meralda replied. “It has no more reason to love the Mag than do we. Skoof. Do you think anything is left aboard, other than the Mag and us?”

  “There were a few, shall we say, exotic fellows, hiding here and there,” Skoof said. “Even a sudden burst of plasma might not do more than make them sneeze. It’s the best thing to do, Mage. It’s not just your world at stake here.”

  “So. It’s decided.” Meralda closed her eyes and pushed out her Sight. “Let me find the wreck again. I’ll guide us to it. How close do we need to get, Mr. Gliff?”

  “Oh, I reckon we can stay in the smoke.” His face split into a wry grin. “These here bugs took some of my friends, Miss. I for one won’t be the least bit sad to light them up.”

  Meralda settled in the chair. Her Sight flitted from wreck to wreck, until a familiar pattern of energies emerged. “Hard to port. Take us slow.”

  “Aye aye,” said Mr. Gliff.

  Celestia soared silently through the smoke as Mag wheeled all about her.

  * * *

  In Celestia’s viewing glass, a squat, battered craft came swiftly into view. Somehow, the ship was able to see all sides of the ancient wreck, seeming to move about it in a tight circle mere yards from its scarred hull.

  It was simple in design – nothing but a flat-bottomed cylinder that tapered to a blunt nose some three hundred feet above the deck. Three stubby fins emerged from the tail, and it rested on these. Aside from a few smooth bumps and ridges along her hull, the ship was featureless.

  “Are you sure that’s the one?” Mr. Gliff asked. “Look here.” His hands moved over the controls, and lines of text and diagrams appeared beside the image of the stricken spacecraft. “It’s just sitting there. It’s not emitting any heat. It has a weak magnetic field, like any chunk of metal. But I don’t see anything unusual.”