by Chris Fox
The cat rose and gave a lazy stretch, licked itself a few times, then dissolved into a swirling whirlwind of pinkish magical energy. It coalesced around Crewes almost instantly, reforming into Mark XI spellarmor. Certainly far faster than Aran could don his own armor, or even the tainted Inuran stuff.
“Neeko is a strong name.” Sarala’s voice took on an affectionate warmth. “She will serve you well, and remember, she can go places you cannot. She will protect you, and bring you home safely so that you have no more excuses to avoid being alone with me.”
Bord nearly turned purple with the effort of not laughing, and seemed immune to Aran’s warning glare. He should have brought Kez.
Crewes ignored them all, and bent to scoop Sarala up. “I know tradition’s important, and I gotta show you I’m interested.” She squawked as he hefted her into the air, and delivered a soft kiss over the fabric covering her mouth. Then Crewes set her down, and took a step backward. “I will come back, once we’re done dealing with Krox. You know there’s always another baddie around the corner, and I wanna learn what you have to teach. All of it.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Sarala raised a hand to touch the fabric where Crewes had kissed her. “In the meantime I will give you a parting gift. Neeko serves you. If the color of your armor displeases you, ask her to change it.”
“Yeah? Just like that?” Crewes looked down at the armor. “Okay, Neeko, give me something menacing. None of that pink crap.”
The surface of the armor rippled, and darkened into a deep crimson, almost black.
“Much better.” Crewes gave a satisfied grin.
Aran’s armor chimed and the HUD flashed to indicate an incoming missive. He accepted it, and an unfamiliar face filled the bottom of the screen. A cultured Inuran sat behind an enormous desk. His suit was immaculate, and probably cost as much as Aran’s armor.
The white, frizzled hair, narrow face, and bulbous nose couldn’t be more at odds with the office and the suit. He looked like all the discarded parts that had been tossed back in the genetic box.
“Hello, Captain.” The man steepled his fingers, and gave a practiced smile. “I’m glad I was able to reach you. I understand that you may be otherwise engaged, but I convinced the governor to have you present at the signing.”
“Signing?” Aran asked. He had a sinking feeling from the man’s Inuran accent that he knew exactly who this was. “And you are? You haven’t given me a name.”
“Forgive me, Captain. I assumed you knew who I was.” The man seemed genuinely surprised. “My name is Skare, and I represent the Inuran Consortium in this system. I’m here to oversee a sizable arms deal. We’re presenting the Inurans with their fleet, and Austin would like you there to inspect it.”
Aran hesitated. There was a trap, of that he was certain. He wanted a look at the ships, but there was no way the Inurans would offer that unless they stood to gain something. He kept his tone neutral. “Why are you contacting me instead of the governor’s office?”
Skare cocked his head and smiled. “The governor is in a, ah, private meeting with Matron Jolene. She’s one of our most powerful shareholders. I believe you’ve met, and that you’re familiar with her daughter?”
“Jolene is Voria’s mother, right?” Aran confirmed. The governor was having a relationship with a woman four or five times his age? To each their own. “When and where is this inspection?”
“In orbit, Commander. I will have the coordinates sent to the Talon. As for time…as soon as is convenient.” Skare gave a polite nod, and cancelled the missive.
Aran suppressed a sigh. He wasn’t nearly as adept as Voria at political maneuvering, but he was going to need to learn quickly.
23
One More Job
Kheross loathed the creature he had allowed himself to become. He swam through the void in a desolate system, reveling in his native form after so long cooped up as a human. He enjoyed the cold caress of the vacuum, which tingled against his scales, but today it provided no solace from the guilt and fear that gnawed at him.
Not because of anything he’d done, but rather because of what he feared Talifax would ask him to do. Of all the beings in the galaxy, only Talifax had ever inspired true fear. He was more real than Nefarius, more tangible than a dark goddess that Kheross had never even glimpsed, not even in his own timeline.
“You fear me,” came a voice from the darkness, its origin somehow unidentifiable, echoing all around him, “because you know it was I who orchestrated the death of your world, your people, and your dear mother. Because you know that even in this timeline I will triumph, and that your only hope for survival lies in collusion.”
Kheross spun in the darkness, his eyes narrowing. A star glowed in the distance, the only celestial body in the system Talifax had asked him to meet in. There was nothing else, not even a meteor or comet. He appeared to be utterly alone.
“The fact that you can cloak your presence isn’t all that impressive,” Kheross bellowed. “Just another one of your parlor tricks. Nor will I ever grovel at your feet, defiler. You’ve summoned me here, and I’ve come, but I am not your plaything. What do you wish of me?”
He flared his wings high above him, reminding himself that he was no mere Wyrm. He was ancient and powerful. And while Talifax might be able to slay him, he could never break Kheross’s will. He refused to be broken.
“I seek no conflict. Stem your ire, Wyrm.” Talifax’s bulky, black armor appeared in the darkness, perhaps a kilometer from Kheross. He appeared so small, not much bigger than most humans. As old as Kheross was he still had no idea what species Talifax had originated from. Something he’d never encountered, perhaps extinct now. “I have a task for you, one that requires no great betrayal.”
“And what makes you think that I will do your bidding?” Kheross asked. He gave a dark smile, hoping that he could somehow bait Talifax into attacking. If he were to die, at least he would die clawing at the throat of the thing he hated most in the galaxy. “You have no leverage, Guardian of Nefarius. Now that Rhea is cleansed you have nothing I want.”
“Really?” Talifax mused. He blinked closer, now no more than 200 meters distant. “You seek nothing for yourself? Not redemption, or salvation? Would you not like to be cleaned of my mother’s dark touch?”
Kheross barked out a bitter laugh. “There’s no way you would free me. How desperate do you think I am, that I’d trust your word in any accord we make?”
Talifax’s metallic laughter echoed through the void somehow, perhaps only a figment in Kheross’s mind. He reached up and slowly removed his helmet, exposing a face that, Kheross would be willing to bet, no one had laid eyes on in centuries.
It wasn’t immediately clear what species Kheross was looking at. Talifax’s skin was a thick, leathery grey. Twin tusks of dull ivory jutted from his jaw, and a short, prehensile trunk wriggled where a nose would be. His eyes were large and dark, and they fixed on Kheross.
“The galaxy possesses little memory of my species,” Talifax explained. “Some remnants remain, but my people were broken long before the last godswar. I watched them die, world by world swallowed by the darkness, as our endless empire finally fell.” He paused, and fixed Kheross with those strangely unreadable eyes. “What I do in service of my mother must be done, but I remember my people. I have a shred of what you might call honor left, perhaps even more than you, fallen Wyrm. If you aid me in a single task, then I will withdraw mother’s dark gift. I will rip the blood of Nefarius from you, and claim it for myself. You are cleansed, and I am further empowered. A fair bargain, yes?”
Kheross considered that. It sounded too good to be true, which meant it was. He flexed his wings, but suppressed his agitation. “And what task would I be required to perform in order for this…magnanimous cleansing?”
“I require you to open a door,” Talifax gave back instantly. He replaced his helm, obscuring those odd features. “It must be opened at a precisely determined instant, and you must ensure that
its occupant be freed to perform another task. Simply open that door, and return to me, and I will free you.”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Kheross’s eyes narrowed. This sounded far too easy. Was he being expended?
“Quite the contrary.” Talifax seemed amused. “You are not being expended. You’ve dealt fairly with me, and you are being rewarded. You wonder why I would do this. Why I would let you live. Because you are no threat, Kheross. Your friends and family will never believe that you are no longer my creature, and even if they did that would not erase your betrayals. You have no allies. No place in this war. So, you see, you are no threat. Take the deal, Kheross. Become an air Wyrm once more, and seek out your mother in this timeline. She still lives, you know, on Virkon. You can even attempt to prevent Nefarius from killing her. You’ll have a purpose again.”
Kheross agonized over his next words. He knew he couldn’t trust Talifax, but there was little to lose. If he performed this errand, and Talifax was lying, then he’d be right back where he was, and no worse off. If he was telling the truth, then Kheross might be able to assume another Wyrm’s identity, and start over on Virkon. He could have the one thing he believed impossible. A future.
If Talifax was honorable. That was a very large if.
24
Inevitable
Nara said nothing as Crewes led her back down to the Talon’s brig. She followed him meekly to the cell, and stepped inside without having to be asked.
“You wanna get that collar off?” Crewes asked. His spellcannon rested on his shoulder, but the barrel was close enough that he could bring it to bear before she could start casting.
Nara reached up and touched the collar, and a jolt of pain prickled up her hand. She forced herself to keep touching it, and reminded herself that this was what Frit had lived like for her entire life. “I’d feel better if you left it on, to be honest.”
Crewes’s face showed a rare emotion, confusion, which quickly boiled into anger. He slapped the blue button on the wall next to the cell, and the bars crackled into existence. “Man, I just do not get you.” He turned on his heel and stalked from the brig without another word or a backward glance.
Nara retreated to her bench, the cell’s only furnishing other than a toilet.
“What happened?” Frit’s small voice came from the neighboring cell, and Nara looked up to find her friend at the bars.
“We went to the Temple of Shi,” Nara explained quietly. She felt inexplicably exhausted, just drained, emotionally. “Crewes went into the Catalyst where Rhea was being held, which is, I guess, why they came to this world in the first place. They didn’t tell me much beyond that. As you can imagine, none of them trust me anymore, and I can’t really blame them.”
Nara’s emotions went brittle, and she sat perfectly still to avoid cracking. She badly wanted to let it all out, but the very last thing that would help her in this situation was a good cry. She needed to keep it together.
“Now what?” Frit asked, glancing at the doorway to the brig. “Are they taking us back to Shaya to be turned over to the new Tender?”
“If they do,” Kaho interjected, rising from his own bench in the far cell and approaching the bars, “what is this Tender likely to do with us?”
“I don’t know.” Nara shrugged, then pulled her knees to her chest. “Aran didn’t tell me where we’re going, or what’s happening. I didn’t see much. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Frit offered. “I’m sorry we’re badgering you with questions. I keep forgetting that you’re a prisoner, the same as us. They see you as the enemy too. I never thought I’d see that.”
“Me either.” Nara knew she’d given her friends cause, though. She looked up at Frit, then Kaho. “I promise I’ll share anything that I learn.”
Oddly, neither one was moving. At first Nara thought they were both just standing there, but as the seconds stretched she realized that they were unnaturally still. Frozen somehow.
“I have altered time in a bubble around us,” Talifax’s voice rumbled from the shadowed corner outside her cell. Had it been shadowed a moment ago?
Dark, bulky armor stepped from the shadows, and she shuddered as Talifax stepped into the light, as much as he ever could. She didn’t know if it was an enchantment, or a property of the metal, but she never seemed to be able to stare at it for long.
“What do you want?” Nara asked wearily. “Did you come to gloat some more? We did what you wanted, and saved Colony 3, but it stops there. I’m not going to kill Voria.”
“No?” Talifax asked mildly. He stepped closer to the bars. “You seem certain of that.”
She hazarded a look at Frit, but her friend was still frozen, mouth open to form words.
“I find it curious that you still hold loyalty to the woman after your memories have been restored.” Talifax’s armor radiated an intense cold, enough that Nara’s arms went to gooseflesh. “But either way, what you believe is irrelevant. I have examined every possibility, and prepared for every contingency. When the time comes, you will kill Voria, and then you will rise in her place.”
Nara gave a short, bitter laugh. “I look forward to disappointing you. I’m wearing a collar, and I’m in the brig of one of the most secure ships in the sector. What makes you think I’ll even have the opportunity?”
“I wonder,” Talifax continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “will your defiance continue when circumstances conspire to place you precisely where I wish you to be? Will you be able to deny your fate when it has grown so large you cannot escape it? I find the answer…tantalizing. I must know, and waiting to learn is…delicious. It has been a very long time since an event I could not predict with perfect precision occurred.”
In that moment Nara found hope. Talifax had made a slip. A slight one, but one that proved something she’d desperately needed to know. He wasn’t omnipotent. He couldn’t see everything, and he couldn’t predict exactly what she would do.
If he somehow arranged for her to be in a position to harm Voria, then she’d simply find a way not to do it. Unless she was bound and didn’t know it.
“Perhaps you are,” Talifax said with mock innocence. “Or perhaps I realize that you will soon understand the benefits of becoming a god. Voria cannot successfully oppose Krox. But you? You are more intelligent, and utterly ruthless. You will do what is necessary to best Krox, and drive him from Shaya. To prevent him from claiming Worldender. Isn’t that what you want? To win the war? Surely it cannot be better to stand idly by while your newly minted goddess is slain, and her world drained of all magic?”
Nara didn’t know how to answer that. There were so many variables she couldn’t predict. Variables Talifax seemed to have already accounted for.
She folded her arms, and turned away from Talifax. He said nothing, but a moment later she felt the darkness recede.
Frit began to move again, as if nothing had happened. She blinked down at Nara. “Wait how did you get from…”
“Talifax was here.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to sleep.”
That was the one refuge remaining her. She closed her eyes and hoped it came swiftly. She was so tired.
25
Make a Scene
Aran adjusted the collar of his uniform, a simple Confederate jacket and pants with the insignia removed, and in its place the red and black Outrider’s patch that Bord had put together.
He’d come alone, his logic being that if Skare tried something at this meeting, the rest of the squad would be free and could come rescue him.
Aran stood in a centered stance just outside one of a half dozen arms jutting off the main body of Lagos station, over Yanthara. Each could berth several capital ships, though the one he stood outside was completely empty at the moment, probably a stipulation by the Inurans. They did like their space.
That was reflected in Lagos station’s design, as she was an Inuran-built facility, but belonged to the Yantharan government. The stati
on’s existence lent a lot of credence to the rumors he’d heard that Yanthara embraced tech much more readily than Shaya. That worried him. The open-mindedness was great, but it was also something the Inurans would be more eager to exploit than ever.
Movement drew his eye, and Aran glanced up through the station’s transparent dome, which vaulted over the teeming city at the heart of the station.
After the incident back on Marid he mistrusted it immediately, especially since he didn’t have his armor this time. The governor’s ‘invitation’ had been very specific on that point, and Aran had reluctantly agreed. If it came down to his spellarmor he was already dead anyway. Had they also forbade weapons he’d have refused entirely though.
He rested his hand on Narlifex. “Keep an eye on things in there, bud. We don’t want to start trouble, but this could be a trap.”
Too many watchers. Narlifex mused in Aran’s head. I do not believe they will attack. Taunt, maybe. Try to trick, probably. Trap is too obvious.
An enormous battleship made its way slowly over the dome, and Aran couldn’t help but feel like the unnecessarily slow approach was for his benefit. That, and the camera drones he realized were swarming around the dock, both inside and out. He looked for, but didn’t find, the reporter they belonged to. No sign of a reporter, just the drones.
The ship itself was a narrow, black wedge, not unlike the vessel Kazon had showed up in back on Shaya, just less brick-shaped than Kazon’s had been. It had the same oily sheen, which drank in the lights from the promenade around him. Hundreds of shoppers went about their business, blissfully unaware that the tool of a dark god was flying directly over their heads.
The ship maneuvered into the berth closest to his position, and as it settled into place Aran understood that it was even larger than he’d suspected. This thing was half again the size of the Wyrm Hunter, and outclassed everything he’d flown short of the Spellship.
