by Chris Fox
“It’s called the Temple of the Shi, one of two religions found on Yanthara,” Voria explained. “It was a clever defense, really. The Temple is a dream Catalyst, and its magic warps reality around it. That makes scrying very difficult, if not outright impossible. Be forewarned that the priestesses are notoriously touchy.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll contact you when I reach Yanthara.”
“Godspeed, Aran.” Voria gave him an approving smile, nodded, and then terminated the missive.
Aran lay down feeling marginally better about the situation. The rest of his problems could wait until morning.
10
Offer You Can't Refuse
Aran stifled a yawn as he entered the mess, where Governor Austin was holding court, hopefully for the last time before the transfer. Aran moved to the manifester, the technical term for the magical device they usually called the ‘food thingie’, and thought of coffee and a glazed pastry. Both appeared.
“Man,” Crewes rumbled, entering the mess a moment after Aran, “I’d forgotten how much I love this ship. You know that, right, ship?” Crewes patted the wall affectionately, then moved over to the manifester. A moment later a plate of steak and eggs appeared, making Aran rethink his choice.
“Captain,” Austin called from behind him, “would you please join us for breakfast?”
Aran’s shoulders slumped a bit. He was hoping to get some caffeine in him before dealing with more of the governor’s endless demands, but it looked as if he wasn’t going to have that option. He picked up his pastry and his coffee, and headed over to join Austin.
There were several empty chairs, and Aran took the one next to Kerr. His was the only friendly face at the table. The rest had made it clear that they thought it folly to give Aran the Talon. He knew, because they’d loudly argued it within earshot. More than once. Thankfully, Kerr had repeatedly pointed out that it would be a monumentally bad idea to try to seize a ship from a well-armed company of tech mages. They still didn’t seem to get it.
“Morning, gentlemen.” Aran nodded at Kerr as he sat down, then at the governor. He mostly ignored the aides and senators crowding the nearby tables. Aran sipped his coffee, then looked up to find the governor staring at him. “What did you want to see me about, sir?”
Austin eyed Kerr reprovingly, and sipped his own coffee. “The fleet admiral tells me that he’s already alerted you to the fact that we’ll need an escort to Yanthara. It’s my hope that returning the Talon is sufficient payment, since you know that my world’s financial status is dubious at best, and catastrophic at worst.”
“Of course, Governor.” Aran gave him a grateful nod, and mirrored the man’s posture. Voria had mentioned that helped when dealing with people. “We’re at your disposal. We can get you to Yanthara, and there’s no need for additional payment. Our contract for New Texas was quite generous, and I appreciate the return of my ship.” He put the faintest emphasis on the word ‘my’, and could see from the way Austin’s eyes narrowed that he didn’t miss it.
“Excellent.” The governor shifted uncomfortably, as if deciding how to approach a topic he wanted to discuss.
Aran took an experimental bite of his pastry. It was good, but he resisted wolfing the whole thing down. He sipped his coffee, and waited.
Austin leaned back in his seat, and eyed Aran for several long moments. “We’re far enough along in negotiations that I suppose it’s time you were brought into the loop. Kerr mentioned we were purchasing a new fleet?”
“He did.” Aran sat back as well.
“These ships are quite unlike anything currently used in the sector.” Austin seemed remarkably proud, as if he’d personally invented said ships. “They can harness, and absorb, magic. I am assured that they can challenge even a god, if there are enough of them attacking at once.”
“They sound impressive.” Aran took another sip, and waited for the other shoe to drop.
The governor beamed the first genuine smile Aran had seen. This one actually reached his eyes, which shone with a feverish intensity. “Before we can battle a god of Krox’s strength, we’ll need to ‘power up’ these ships, so to speak, and that’s where you come in. We want you to oversee the process.”
Aran set his coffee cup down and gave the governor his full attention. “And where will you get this power?”
“There are a number of potent Catalysts in the sector,” the governor explained. “We’ll simply choose the ones that provide the magic we need.”
“So let me see if I understand this.” Aran popped the rest of his pastry in his mouth, and took a few moments to chew before finally leaning forward and looking Austin directly in the eye. “You want to raid Catalysts to steal magic to power up your ships so that you can go toe to toe with a god?”
“Precisely.” The governor’s smile hadn’t slipped.
Kerr, on the other hand, recognized Aran’s tone, apparently. He had the good grace to look embarrassed.
“Governor, I see two problems with this plan.” Aran held up a single finger. “First, the rest of the sector will immediately see you as a threat. Every magical power from Virkon to Drakkon will fear these ships, which brings me to my second point.” Aran added a second finger. “These ships are created from a metal that a literal goddess warned us was corrupted. These ships are bad news, Admiral, and while they might seem like an attractive option right now, I assure you that option will come back to bite you, probably sooner than you expect.”
Austin’s face went ugly, and his hands balled into fists. “I understand you’ve already got a dog in this fight, Captain, but let me be perfectly clear. New Texas lies in ruins. The capital is on the brink of annihilation. We very nearly lost Colony 3 as well, our last truly habitable world. There is a real chance we have already lost this war. Unless you can propose an alternate solution, or offer another means of producing the armada we need, then there’s really no need for further discussion on this point. We’re buying these ships. Unless you have another answer?”
Aran did not. He took a slow breath, and reined in his temper before speaking. “That’s fair. I understand the predicament you’re in, but I can’t in good conscience help you create these weapons knowing what a risk they pose.”
“I told you he’d say that,” one of the senators crowed. The light shone off his bald head, making him strongly resemble a sinister egg. “Use Kerr’s solution.”
Aran looked wearily to Kerr, and the admiral nervously cleared his throat. “Just tell him, Austin. It’s the only way you’re going to get him to agree.”
“All right.” The governor leaned across the table. “If you help us, then we’ll contribute our entire armada to defend Shaya against Krox. I’ve heard he’s coming for your world, and I know you can’t stop him alone. Help us get these ships ready, and we’ll help you win this war. I can send Davidson’s fleet right now, and as soon as our ships are ready, we’ll return to help as well. What do you say?”
Aran was silent for a long moment. He weighed the pros and cons, and in the end simply couldn’t come up with something that felt like a right answer. “I’ll tell you what, Governor. Let’s get you to Yanthara. You meet with the Inurans and get your ships. Once you have them, then we’ll talk.”
He rose from the table and offered the governor his hand. Austin shook it, and he had a surprisingly firm grip. “Very well, Captain. It’s a start. I’ll let you get back to your…magic.”
Aran didn’t bother correcting him as he headed for the bridge. He couldn’t wait to get these people off his ship.
11
Yanthara
They spent four endless days crossing the Umbral Depths. On the positive side, the governor and his retinue had relocated to the Wyrm Hunter, and since they couldn’t risk missives in the depths he’d been blessedly free of Ternus politics.
On the negative, that provided Aran plenty of time to think about their prisoners, and to agonize on what to do with them. He still didn’t have a concrete plan, though h
e’d at least come up with the beginnings of one.
Aran headed up the ramp to the bridge where Crewes was piloting. Not that they needed a pilot, as they were flying blind and in a straight line. He spotted Kez and Bord sitting on one of the benches along the sloped wall where Bord was giving Kez a shoulder rub. Aran hid his smile with a hand, and moved to speak with the sergeant.
“Morning.” He gave Crewes a nod, which his friend returned.
“Mornin’, sir. We’ll be arriving in a few minutes, if your numbers are right.”
“They’re not my numbers. I just read the chart. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Crewes spun the matrix’s hovering chair around to face him and gave Aran a grin. “You’re finally gonna deal with Nara, aren’t you?”
Aran cocked his head. “Guess I’m more predictable than I thought.”
“Sometimes.” Crewes shrugged. “It ain’t a bad thing, ‘cept in combat. You want some company, I’ll head down to the brig with you.”
Aran tensed. “You aren’t going to like my play, but I need you to back it.” Crewes’s hatred for Nara, and for the Krox, was one of his few blind spots.
The sergeant studied him for a moment, then nodded. He unbuckled his harness and hopped from the matrix, his massive legs bunching as he landed. Even without the power armor he was damned intimidating.
“I’ve always got your back, sir.” Crewes lowered his voice as he started for the ramp to the brig. “Just tell me you aren’t going soft. You can’t let her go.”
“I’m not going to let her go.” Aran followed Crewes down the ramp, then paused and turned back to Bord and Kez. “You two, with me. I want you here for this.”
Bord stopped his massage, and Kezia’s eyes fluttered open. She brushed a lock of golden curls from her face, and blinked in his direction. “Down to the brig? Are you going to interrogate Nara, finally?”
“Something like that.” Apparently they’d all been waiting, which he should have expected. Nara’s betrayal didn’t impact only him. “Come on.” He turned and started after Crewes, taking his time as he made his way down the gently sloping corridor.
When he passed through the veil of silence into the brig, Crewes was already standing in front of Frit’s cell. He looked over his shoulder at Aran. “Get a load of this crap. Frit’s found herself a boyfriend.”
Kaho and Frit each sat on their respective benches so that they were as close to each other as they could get. It was impossible to miss their body language, and it killed something inside of Aran. There was definitely affection there, and a good degree of trust. Frit had gone over fully to the Krox, and if she had, it made it more likely Nara had as well.
“Sergeant, go get the collar from lockup,” Aran ordered. He needed to give Crewes something to do, so the sergeant didn’t have time to needle the prisoners. That would only make this harder.
He moved to stand in front of Nara’s cell, and found her staring up at him from her bench, her dark hair framing brown eyes and that sea of freckles. “I’m guessing we’re almost to Shaya? If you’re handing me over to Voria I’ll go quietly, but…do we have time to talk to first?”
“We’re not going to Shaya.” Aran folded his arms. A glance at Frit and Kaho confirmed that neither seemed interested in their conversation, though he assumed both were listening. “We have a minute before Bord and Kezia get here, and the sergeant gets back. Say what you need to say. I’ll hear you out.”
She exhaled a long, slow breath, and rose, then approached the bars. He steeled himself against whatever alibi she was preparing. “I mentioned that Talifax returned my memories.”
“From when you served Yorrak?” Aran asked, interested in spite of himself. She’d been a master manipulator, and if she had her memories back, she was once more. He couldn’t forget that.
“Some of them.” She nodded, then plucked absently at her sleeve, as if giving herself something to do. “Others are from before Yorrak, even. I was part of a Ternus program called the Zephyrs. Their version of tech mages, basically. Yorrak broke into the facility and kidnapped me. When these memories came back, it was an overpowering experience, especially at first. I had no idea where I was, or what I was doing. By the time I recovered from the first memory, Talifax had already used my body to steal the Talon, and I found myself in orbit near the umbral shadow.”
“So it wasn’t your fault.” Something eased in Aran. “You were just a pawn.” He so badly wanted this not to be her fault, though the detached part of him knew he wasn’t being objective.
“No!” Nara’s eyes flashed. The ferocity took him back a step. “The returning memories aren’t an excuse. I could have turned around right then, but I didn’t. I ran, because I was afraid, and because I wanted answers. I should have come back. Should have told you what happened.”
“Why didn’t you?” Aran asked quietly.
Nara shuddered again. “I first saw Talifax right after I woke up from a nightmare. A nightmare that he sent, and told me was a vision of the future.” She looked up at Aran searchingly. “Aran, in the dream I assassinated Voria. I saw it. It was like…a memory that hasn’t happened. Not just some illusion, or a binding. I gunned her down in cold blood, and I knew for certain it would really happen if I stayed. I had to get away. I couldn’t be the reason we lose this war.”
Aran didn’t answer immediately. It all sounded just plausible enough to accept. Nara had just the right amount of guilt. Just the right amount of justifications. Just the right amount of sympathy. Not too much, but enough that he wanted to wrap his arms around her.
She might be telling the truth. Or she could be playing him. He’d act like it was the former, and prepare for it to be the latter.
He was saved from having to answer by Kezia walking into the brig, closely followed by Bord. Bord had his hands in his pockets, and lounged sullenly against the wall near the door. He didn’t even look at Nara, or Frit.
Kezia, on the other hand, walked directly to Nara’s cell, and stared fiercely up at her. “Tell me you had a good reason.”
“Not good enough.” Nara’s shoulders slumped, and she returned to her bench.
Some of the fire went out of Kez, and she retreated to stand near Bord. She turned away from the cells, very pointedly, instead slipping into Bord’s arms and resting her blonde curls against his chest.
“What about him?” Aran nodded at Kaho. “How did you end up working with a Krox?”
Kaho’s scaly head turned in their direction, and Frit looked up a moment later. Both were staring at them.
“Talifax arranged it.” Nara pulled her knees up to her chest on the bench. “He sent me to the facility where Ternus housed the Zephyrs, at the same time Nebiat and Frit arrived. I was deliberately placed in their path so I could stop Nebiat from destroying Colony 3.” A ghost of a smile flitted across her face, then was gone. “We succeeded. We stopped her there.”
That was good at least, though it bothered Aran that Talifax wanted the Krox to fail at Colony 3. Why? It could be as simple as weakening all his enemies, but it could also be part of a larger plan.
“What happened to Ree?” Aran kept his tone neutral. He didn’t want her telling him what she thought he wanted to hear, especially since he’d already seen the footage.
Nara paled, but then she rose and began to pace. “She didn’t leave us any choice, Aran. Frit was only trying to escape captivity. That isn’t her fault.”
“Firing on Confederate fighters is,” Aran pointed out. “She killed Ree, or as good as.”
“That self-righteous bitch didn’t give me a choice,” Frit snarled. She wrapped her hands very pointedly around the crackling blue bars, and did not remove them, even when smoke billowed out from where her fingers brushed the energy. Hot, fiery tears fell down her dark cheeks. “Ree hunted me like an animal. She followed me across half the sector, because she’d rather see me dead than protect her own world. What other choice did I have? We asked her to stand down, but she just kept coming…�
�
Unexpected grief welled up in Aran. Not just the loss of Ree, who, even though he’d never much liked her, had been one of their staunchest allies. He’d also lost Frit, and Nara. He took a deep breath, and composed himself before answering.
“Ree was a fanatic, but the fact is that you killed several mages escaping Shaya.” Aran approached Frit’s cell. “I don’t blame you for trying to run, but I’ve read the report. You were going to carpet bomb the sector’s breadbasket with the most lethal weaponry manufactured in this decade. You don’t get to claim the moral high ground after that.”
Frit’s mouth worked but she had no answer. Her shoulders slumped, and she gave a single nod, then returned to her bench.
Metal steps thumped down the ramp, and the sergeant appeared a moment later, now wearing his bulky armor. The silver metal glittered menacingly under the lights, but it paled compared to the scowl he leveled in Nara’s direction. “I grabbed the collar and the control rod. I assumed you’d want to deploy soon, so I suited up. You want the lovebirds to get ready too?”
“No,” Aran replied, deciding out loud. “I want Kezia to stay here and look after the prisoners. I do not want to come back to any surprises.”
“Ah, man, we’re always getting left behind.” Bord kicked dejectedly at the wall.
“You aren’t getting left behind. Go get suited up, Bord.” Aran turned back to Nara. “You’re coming with us too. He sketched a void sigil in front of the magical panel, and the bars to her cell winked out. Sergeant, give her the collar.”
“Sir, this is a bad idea. She’ll put a knife in our back.” Crewes moved to block Nara’s cell, so she couldn’t exit.
“No, she won’t,” Aran countered. He faced Nara. “She’ll work with us for two reasons. First, I think she wants the same thing we do. Second, and more importantly, you’re going to be holding the control rod, Sergeant. If she steps out of line, then do what you need to do.”
