by Chris Fox
Invigorating slowly became overwhelming. There was too much power. Too much knowledge. Too much Krox. And not enough Nebiat.
Yes. Krox was again amused. You begin to understand. Your own identity is precious to you, but you are less than an insect in a vast jungle. In merging with the Heart you have returned much of my strength. In time, as we absorb other Catalysts, you will grow smaller and smaller. Eventually you will be little more than a shading on my personality, a small part of my mind. We will be one, united in purpose.
Nebiat shrieked in her own head, beating at the confines of the spell she herself had cast. Had her father understood the dark bargain he’d created? She wanted to live forever, but as herself, not as a footnote in Krox’s story.
You have little choice. Your enemies gather, goddess. If you do not crush them, they will crush you. You must act, and each time you do we will be more me, and less you.
Maybe. Nebiat wasn’t sure she believed Krox. This being had evidently found a way to keep its consciousness intact, and she would do the same. But it was right. She did need to deal with her enemies.
First, she would marshal an army, then she would destroy Shaya. Once Voria was dealt with there would be no one strong enough to pose a threat, and she could worry about finding a way out of the grisly fate Krox had in mind for her.
Tremendous weariness overtook her, and the sea of possibilities winked out around her. She struggled to contain her panic. What is happening to us?
Be at ease, Krox reassured her. What you feel is known as torpor. You must rest while you assimilate the tremendous power you have absorbed. Then, you will be ready to flay our enemies.
6
Damage Control
Aran strode into the Talon’s mess, now a temporary command center for Ternus personnel. He’d made the offer to have them relocated to the Hunter, but to his surprise the governor had refused, and insisted he didn’t want to entrust his safety to any other vessel.
That made it hard to argue, and Aran had no choice but to let the man stay aboard. It made things even more tense than they otherwise would be, and tempers were already starting to fray. The Umbral Depths would make that worse.
Governor Austin sat at the table in the far side of the room, surrounded by a cluster of advisors, Fleet Admiral Kerr among them. Most had already been aboard when they’d arrived, along with a dozen technicians and engineers who’d apparently been studying the ship before turning it back over.
Austin’s scowl deepened and he leaned across the table. “—We don’t have a choice. I’m not risking any more ships.” He stabbed an accusing finger at a harried, bald man in a business suit, complete with one of their odd neckties. “Every ship we’ve sent down there to retrieve anyone hasn’t been able to make orbit. We’re only feeding the problem.”
“So you’re abandoning them?” The man’s thick eyebrows knit together, a stark contrast to his hairless scalp. “I admit we’ve run into problems, but—”
“Senator, do you think me an idiot?” Austin rose to his feet and planted both hands on the Talon’s golden table. He leaned over the poor man, looming like a Wyrm about to feast.
The senator shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but refused to drop eye contact. Aran guessed this to be part of a longer standing feud.
He lurked at the edge of the conversation, and considered departing, but before he could, Kerr caught sight of him. The fleet admiral disengaged from the table, and hurried over. He looked a good deal better than he had when they’d been evacuating. The heavy gravity had not been kind.
Kerr gave a tired smile as he reached Aran. “You’re a welcome relief from that cock fight. The governor is all diplomacy, until he’s stressed. Then he’s a monster, and the surviving senate isn’t taking it well.” Kerr delivered a sigh, and smoothed his rumpled uniform. “I know it’s petty, but lack of fresh uniforms is already getting to me. Every time I think about changing I realize this might be the last uniform I ever wear.”
“Davidson might have a surplus from New Texas,” Aran offered. He knew this was about a lot more than uniforms, though. “Listen. I know you’ve got a ton of problems to deal with, but we need to talk. Now that the immediate crisis is contained, I need to decide where this ship can do the most good. I can’t stay here. You have my sympathy, but the Talon isn’t a relief ship.”
Kerr nodded wearily. “I understand, son, and you’re right. This is a warship, and we need to get you back into the fight. You have no idea how hard I had to fight the governor not to try to commandeer it back. Once he agreed, I managed to get him to agree to transfer to another ship. Davidson will be arriving any minute. When he gets here we’ll transfer command over, but the governor is going to try to convince you to escort us to Yanthara.”
“Yanthara?” Aran asked, blinking.
“Before we were interrupted by the untimely demise of our world, we’d begun negotiations with the Inurans.” Kerr shook his head, then spat against the wall. “Mercenary bastards are probably selling to the Krox too, but the governor’s gotten it into his head that we need their ships. Before I could argue sense, but now? Now my position has reversed. Doesn’t matter what I think of the Inurans, or their tech. I’d make a deal with the devil himself if it would give me a fleet to spit in the eye of a god.”
Aran didn’t know who this devil was, but he got the gist of it. Nor could he fault Kerr’s logic. Ternus was screwed, and Shaya was too. That put both in a position to lean on the Inurans more than ever, and he had no doubt they’d use that to extort whatever they could. He made a mental note to contact Kazon when he could find a moment.
“I can’t blame the governor for that, but make sure you have all the facts about these new ships.” He frowned, remembering his inability to activate his spellarmor after Virkonna had bound it. “There’s something wrong with the new metal they’re using, enough to make a goddess sit up and take notice.”
“Kerr!” The governor’s voice rang out over the hum of conversation filling the mess. “Get over here. Logistics, man. They can’t wait. People are dying.”
Kerr gave Aran a helpless shrug. “I need to head back, but before I do there’s something you need to know. The governor had intended to give you back the Talon, but there was a condition. He wanted to send you to Shaya for a prisoner transfer, and those prisoners are aboard. Your former friend and her companions are in the brig, awaiting delivery to Voria.”
Aran planted a hand against the wall, and suddenly felt like he was back in the increased gravity. “Nara’s aboard?”
“That’s what I’m saying, son.”
Boots clomped across the deck behind him, and after a moment Crewes walked up the ramp. He still wore his spellarmor, but the cannon must have been returned to the lockup.
“Sergeant, good timing. I’ve got some news.” He waited for the sergeant to walk over before continuing. “Apparently we’ve got prisoners aboard. Nara and company. Will you head down to the brig and assess the situation? I’ll be down in a minute.”
Crewes nodded, a scowl sliding into place at the mention of Nara. “I’ll see to it, sir.”
Aran trusted the sergeant not to do anything rash, but he almost pitied Nara the tongue lashing she was likely to receive.
He took a long, slow breath, then turned back to Kerr, who’d already taken a step back toward the mess. “One last question, Admiral. I want to explain the situation clearly to Voria. What are we looking at for Ternus? From a technical perspective? How long do your people have?”
Aran had a rough understanding that the clock was ticking on their world, but he needed to know exactly what was on the line if they were to have any prayer of dealing with it. Plus, tackling this problem meant he could delay dealing with others he didn’t want to think about.
“I’m no physicist, but as I understand it we got a few problems,” Kerr explained. His eyes went vacant. Haunted. “The gravity is a short-term nuisance, but a long-term killer. Most of our fauna, and a lot of our flora, aren’t e
quipped to deal with their new environment. Initial estimates say that we’ll lose seventy percent of our biodiversity in the first four weeks. Things get worse after that, but after seven weeks it won’t matter. Our orbit will decay to the point where the surface is unlivable. A week after that it will be molten. Put simply, we’ve lost. We can’t stop a god. What are we supposed to do to combat this?”
“I don’t know.” Aran forced himself back to his feet. He stowed the feelings, and focused on outcomes. He needed to be in control right now, of something, even if it was only his own body. “What I do know is that there is a way. Krox isn’t the only god. We’ll find others to help us. Voria has the Spellship, and you saw what she did on New Texas. She’ll find us an answer.”
He was saved from further conversation when a loud chime came from the portable holounit the Ternus command had set up near the table. An image sprang up, and showed the Wyrm Hunter entering the system through a Fissure. The weathered battleship brought a swell of pride. She was still flying, even after all the punishment she’d been through.
“We’ll be taking our leave soon, looks like.” Kerr sat in the chair Aran had just vacated. “I hope you’re right, and that Voria pulls something out of her bag of tricks. I’ve got to be honest, though. I just can’t see much hope.”
Aran couldn’t either, but hearing that wasn’t going to make anyone fight harder. They needed more than the truth. They needed hope. “We’ve been through some crazy shit, Admiral. I’ve killed dragons. This time I’m just going to have to aim a little higher.”
7
Why?
Aran left the mess and threaded a route down to the ship’s lowest level, which contained their cargo hold, and adjacent to it was the brig. Crewes had stopped right outside the arched doorway leading into the brig.
Kheross stood next to him, arms crossed and his narrow face drawn down into a scowl. That scowl deepened when he saw Aran, and void flared in his eyes. “It’s past time we talked, Outrider. Can you promise me my daughter survived the attack on Shaya? Where is she? I’ve lived up to my end of the deal.”
Aran rubbed his temples and longed for the days when he’d been the one taking orders instead of giving them. “That’s my very next problem, Kheross, I promise. You’ve done right by us, and I will see that we do right by you. But right now I don’t know where your daughter is. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
Kheross gave a wordless growl, and stalked back up the ramp without another word.
“Yeah, keep walking, Scaly,” Crewes called, but there was no heat to it. He turned back to Aran once Kheross was out of earshot. “I figured it might be smart to be on the same page before we go in there, sir. How you gonna play this?”
“Honestly?” Aran scrubbed his fingers through his beard and wished for the time to trim it. “I don’t know. Nara saved our asses. Many times. But the knife is still sticking out of my back, and I remember who she was before the mindwipe.” He shivered. “That Nara would knife her mother for a bent scale. Don’t let me do anything stupid.”
“Oh, I won’t.” Crewes’s scowl would have sent Bord scurrying had he been there to see it. He and Kez were still overseeing the temporary clinic they’d set up in the medbay to help treat the near infinite flow of wounded. “She jacked our ride, then defected to the enemy. Remember that, sir. Keep it front and center. I know you hit that, and I know you care about her, but don’t go soft, man.”
“Thanks, Sergeant. I mean that.” Aran appreciated the advice. He took a deep breath, and plunged through the doorway into the brig.
One of the Talon’s many latent enchantments was a magical silence that blocked the brig from the rest of the ship. The instant he stepped through, the noise from the Ternus personnel vanished, and he stood in a well-lit hallway with six cells, which seemed impossible as they occupied a space greater than what the room should have taken up on the ship. You had to love extra-dimensional spaces.
All three cells on the far side were occupied. The first held Frit, her ebony skin smoldering. A river of bright flame cascaded down her shoulders, and she stared impassively at him with those twin pools of flame. She didn’t look away or drop her gaze, as she once would have.
Aran returned her stare kilo for kilo, and only dropped it when he shifted his attention to the next cell. It held a Krox hatchling that, Aran quickly realized, he recognized. He was nearly three meters tall, forcing him to hunch against the ceiling. His wings barely fit in the cell, and there was no way it could be comfortable.
The last cell held Nara, but Aran stiffened and forced himself to focus on the hatchling.
“Hello, Kaho. How’s the hand?” Aran nodded down at the hatchling’s clearly intact limb.
“Splendid.” Kaho gave him a reptilian smile, which revealed hundreds of razored fangs. He raised the hand and flexed clawed fingers. “The scales are a little discolored, but it serves as a reminder never to grow overconfident when tangling with a war mage, even a human one.” Kaho’s face fell. “My brother wasn’t so lucky, as you know better than anyone. I forgive you for his death, for whatever that’s worth.”
“Really, Scaly?” Crewes barked a harsh laugh, and moved to stand in front of Kaho’s cell. “You ‘forgive’ the LT for cooking your miserable excuse for a brother, after he attacked us, again? Well, that’s real white of ya. I hope you forgive me for putting my foot up your—”
“Sergeant.” Aran’s voice was soft, but there was steel there, and Crewes recognized it.
The sergeant’s jaw clamped shut, but he continued to glare at the Krox. Aran took a step closer to the bars, and met Kaho’s draconic gaze unflinchingly. “I’d advise you not to speak again, unless spoken to. Crewes has more right than most to hate you. Your people burned our worlds. You’ve killed our friends. You’re hell-bent on eradicating our species. The only reason you’re alive is so that Voria can rip every last secret out of that scaly head of yours.”
Aran was mildly surprised to realize his hand had tightened around Narlifex’s hilt. The weapon thrummed in his grip, pulsing with anticipation of a kill. A kill Aran couldn’t deliver, at least not yet.
“Forgive me, Captain.” Kaho slid awkwardly to his knees, and prostrated himself on the floor of his cell. “I should never have spoken so familiarly to you. I do not wish to challenge you, but I beg you to hear what I have to say.”
Frit eyed the Krox with pity, but then her eyes snapped accusingly up to Aran. He ignored her.
“Lies, whatever it is.” Crewes barked a short laugh. “You know how I know? ‘Cause your mouth is moving. Gods-damned binder.”
“Lies or not, let’s hear what he’s got to say.” Aran folded his arms and glared down at the Krox. He was very aware of Nara watching him from the neighboring cell, but she’d said nothing yet. Nor had Frit, though she continued to glare.
“You have every right to hate me and my species.” Kaho rose to his knees, but didn’t make eye contact. “You have every right to kill me. But before you do, I beseech you. Consider that my species is just as varied as your own. We have free will, whatever you might think. I have no love for my mother. I have even less for my grandfather. Their plans for the galaxy would benefit me even less than they would you. She will kill me, human, when she learns that I have gone over to your side.”
“Gone over?” Crewes gave a loud snort. “’Course you’d say that when you’re in a cell. How stupid do you think we are?”
“Pretty stupid, actually,” Frit snapped, finally entering the conversation. She’d transferred her glare to Crewes. “Didn’t Nara steal this ship right out from under you? Why don’t you open this cell, and I’ll show you just how stupid, human?”
Crewes scowled down at the Ifrit as he leaned closer to the bars. Deep, hot flames appeared in his eyes, and Aran could feel it even from where he was standing. “As soon as the captain gives the word, trust me, I’ll be opening that cell, and you’ll get to show me just how dumb I am. You go ahead and use all the fire you want, k
id. Won’t stop me from pounding the traitor out of that smug face. Can’t believe I ever trusted you.”
“Trusted?” Frit snarled. She slammed the glowing bars with both fists, and was hurled into the wall of her cell in an explosion of blue light. She rose quickly, rolling her shoulder as she turned to face Crewes again. “Your people made me in a pattern inducer, and then put a collar on me. You forced me to fight, to kill my own people. You pretend to be so morally superior, but your whole way of life is built on enslaving others. Enslaving my kind. You’d better believe I escaped as soon as I could.” Her eyes flared to match his. “Do whatever you want to me. You can kill me, but you can’t take my freedom. Never again. I’ll die before I fight for you, collar or no.”
A wave of weariness crashed over Aran, and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then opened them. “Frit, we’re not going to make you do anything, whatever you may have done. I’m not any more fond of slavery than you are, and I agree that how your people were treated was tragic.”
He shook his head sadly, then turned to Crewes. “Sergeant, go get Kez. Tell her I want her to stand guard over the brig. I need a moment alone with the prisoners.”
The sergeant paused and leaned in close. “Sir, you ain’t going soft, are you?” Crewes looked as concerned as Aran had ever seen him. The sergeant never questioned him so directly, unless they were in private.
“Not a chance.” Aran’s voice was frosty steel and, thankfully, so was his resolve. He met the sergeant’s gaze and dropped his voice low enough that only Crewes could hear. “But you’re letting them get to you, and riling them up in the process. I need intel, and we aren’t going to get that if Frit is hurling herself at the bars.”
Crewes blinked a couple times, then nodded. “Understood, sir.” He shot a glare at Frit. “This ain’t over, kid. You’ll get your chance to take a swing at me. I promise you that.” She didn’t reply, but she did glare at him as he left.
