He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. Slivers of blinding light invaded his brain and threatened to short circuit his thought processes. He gritted his teeth and kept them open. After a moment, the pain eased off, and his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. He looked around as well as he could.
He was in some sort of living room or nicely furnished office. Across the room, he could see Cat. She was moaning and starting to wake up as well.
He heard footsteps coming from behind him and craned his head to get a look. Coming through the doorway was Brown Suit, followed by the girl on the comm…Nancy, Devlin recalled. Then Courtney came through the door as well, untied and apparently none the worse for the wear. Devlin wondered if they gave awards for idiots, because he’d just won gold.
“Ah, we’re awake, I see,” the man in brown said.
“Ah, we’re still an asshole, I see,” Devlin croaked.
The man chuckled, walked over, and kicked Devlin squarely in the balls. Agony exploded in Devlin’s brain…and about a meter lower.
“Seamus!” Courtney snapped.
“Boss said he wanted him alive. He didn’t say what shape,” Seamus drawled as he backed away.
“Yes, but I say what happens to him or not,” the small woman said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Courtney walked over to Devlin and pulled up a chair. Devlin rolled over and looked up at her from his position on the floor.
“Hi, Devlin. Nice to see you again.”
“Can’t say the same, ‘Courtney.’”
“That IS my given name, Niko. You poor thing, you must feel awfully put out by all of this.” Her face took on an exaggerated look of hurt and compassion. “All betrayed, and your ass must really be burning at the moment.”
Courtney’s expression didn’t change, but she kicked him in the mouth with one foot. “It is my name, but Mr. Martin calls me—and my partners—Cerberus.’
“…after the lord of the underworld’s three-headed dog…nice.” Devlin chuckled. He spat blood onto the carpet. He rolled his tongue around. There was a loose tooth. “Martin always had an exalted opinion of himself…Lord of the Underworld. He’s got one thing right. You’re a bitch.” He snorted.
Courtney frowned disapprovingly. “Now, Niko. That’s awful disrespectful of my employer.” She kicked him again, this time in the stomach, and smirked as he struggled to catch his breath again. “And besides, this is a side job…for Allonsy.”
Finally, when he could breathe again, Devlin wheezed, “So what now?”
“What now?” Courtney said. “What now is, we get you ready to go back to Allonsy so he can properly thank you for the treatment you gave him before you so rudely ran away and joined the Army. He has been so disconsolate without your company and has just been dying to reciprocate the experience.”
“And Cat?” Devlin looked glanced over at the girl.
“Cat,” Courtney said, standing up and walking over to the improvised rack. “She’s something else, Niko.” She put out her hand, and Seamus handed her Devlin’s pistol. Without a word, she shot Cat in the stomach. The little data slicer screamed from underneath her gag, her body contorting in pain, then went slack.
“You’re going to die for that,” he said, calmer than he felt.
“Probably not,” Courtney replied. Then she smiled coldly. “Oh, I have no doubt I’m going to die in this line of work. But you’re not going to be my demise, and when I do die, it probably won’t be from this.”
She handed the gun back to Seamus. “Take her out back. Dump her body, and make it look like a random mugging.”
The woman turned back to Niko. “So now, pet, we’re going to get you ready to ship to Allonsy. Nancy is going to inject you with Nighty-night.” The other woman left the room, presumably to get whatever they were going to use to ship him to Allonsy. “Sorry about Miss Schrödinger. Breaks of the game.”
Devlin looked away, then a chuckle started, which then turned into a wheezing laugh. Courtney reached down and grabbed his hair and glared at him. “Is something funny?”
“I was just remembering something Cat told me once,” Devlin said between laughs.
“About?” the female criminal asked, cocking her head to the side.
“There was once a scientist on Old Earth,” he said. “Guy with a funny name. He had an explanation for quantum physics or something like that. Not my expertise,” he said, chuckling and groaning at the same time. His ass really hurt.
Courtney appeared to be politely interested. She prompted him to continue, “And?”
“And he had this experiment where you stick a cat in a box with a poison gas grenade or something tied to an atom detector or something—again, not really familiar with the story, per se.” He kept laughing.
The smile on Courtney’s disappeared. “What does this have to do with Allonsy?”
“Doesn’t really,” he wheezed. He struggled to get up on one side. “The point was, the only way to know if the cat was alive or dead was to look into the box. Then all the possibilities in the universe would coalesce and be one or the other, or both, or something sciency like that.” He paused, still chuckling. “It’s just, one time I commented about Cat having that name—it was the same as the scientist—and being named ‘Cat.’ He paused, his laughter dying. “Cat remarked that the thing nobody thought about was…”
“The thing was what…” Courtney didn’t get to finish her question as the railgun round connected with the back of her head and exploded.
“That Schrödinger schmuck either didn’t realize or didn’t care that Cats have nine lives. And the Cat was gonna be really pissed when she got out of the box,” Cat said, lowering the railpistol as she stepped on the headless corpse of Courtney “Cerberus” Sharpe and dropped to the ground beside Devlin. “She shot me…the bitch.”
“I think you got her back,” he noted. “How is it?
“Yeah. I did.” She put her hand to her belly. “Through and through. Hurts. Nanites are stopping the bleeding. That’d better not leave a big scar, or I’m so giving you the removal bill. You’re a bastard, you know that?”
“Never claimed I wasn’t. Besides, you’ll live.”
“Yeah. Blacked out for a few when she shot me. I came to just before Mr. Ugly Brown Suit tried to dump me in the street and give me another. For a killer, he was surprisingly not such a great fighter. He’s in a dumpster looking like a ‘random mugging victim.’”
“And ‘Nancy?’”
“Having a really long nap in a box postmarked Caliban.”
“Allonsy is going to be soooo disappointed.” Devlin chuckled again and regretted it. “Damn, that hurts.”
“Try getting gut shot, you wuss.” She snickered, then groaned. “How long before the Choirboys get here?”
He thought about it for a minute. “I should have called in six hours ago. That would have given Cooper the heads up I’d been compromised. I gave him the skinny on the attempted mugging and what we figured. So they would have been watching and waiting. They could ping either of us. Mine would have come up snake eyes; they could have pinged yours on the other hand. Just about any time.”
“Sounds about right,” she agreed. Then sighed. “What did you find out about Tamman?”
“Look, he wants to talk. He’s convinced you’re running someone else.”
“Dumbass. He should know better by now. He’s the only one.”
“Well, tell him that, you little jerk.”
“Devlin, I can’t…I…”
“Cat, that’s bullshit, and you know it. You know it’s been bullshit ever since you met us in that church on Aberdeen. You’ve been one of us ever since, so don’t go ‘I can’t belong to anything or the Universe…’ blah blah blah. It’s bullshit. Everybody loves you, Tamman most of all…even though you drive all of us insane!”
“Well damn, Devlin,” she said. “That’s nice of you to say.” She put a hand on her belly, dabbing at the blood. “But now I’m conflicted.�
��
“By what?” he snapped.
“Well…it’s nice to know you all love me,” she began, then coughed and winced in pain, “but I don’t even LIKE most of you.”
Devlin started to laugh again, this time ignoring the pain. Soon they both were both laughing, then groaning in pain, then laughing again each at the other. Several minutes later, Cat stopped laughing, her face getting serious. “Niko,” she began, but he shook his head.
“Don’t say it, Cat. You can. It’s okay. You’ve got us. And the universe had better watch out if it thinks it can take you away from us. Doesn’t matter if it’s you or Tam, Kenyon, Cooper, or Buttsniffer Mike. We WILL ride into Hell itself for each other. We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again. So don’t ever think about leaving.”
The wall in front of them disintegrated, and battle armor started pouring into the room.
* * *
Epilogue
“Dearly Beloved…”
Cat was dressed pretty much as she had been three days earlier, like a riot awaiting a place to happen. Tamman was wearing his dress uniform. Devlin shook his head. Even in dress blacks, Tamman looked like a gorilla stuffed into a suit. But there was something oddly gentle in the ugly giant’s expression as he looked at Cat.
Tamman had asked Jonesy to be his best man. Makes sense, Devlin thought. They had been through a lot together, both before and since they met The Cat. What surprised him was when Cat had asked him to stand for her as witness. There were girls in the unit, some of whom Devlin thought she was actually friends with. But she just looked at him, and that was it.
So here he was, in front of God and everybody, holding a bouquet of flowers, scowling at the audience as the priest/preacher/chaplain/whatever-you-called-him asked if there was any reason to object to the marriage. There wasn’t. Hell, even if someone objected, they weren’t about to risk life and limb talking about it here.
The little chapel was bare of people, except for the Choirboys on one side. Cooper was in front, his caveman face wet with tears, as his wife elbowed him in the ribs. He blew his nose.
On the other side of the chapel sat the admiral and his wife—the other admiral. Behind them were Baby Bear and Momma Bear, the two pilots who worked for the admiral—male type—and once in a while ferried the Choirboys around. He looked for Fiona, but knew she wouldn’t show. At least not where anyone could see.
Suddenly, Cat was poking him in the ribs. “Ring,” she hissed. He fumbled in his pocket for the little box she had given him a few minutes before. He produced it and opened it up. Inside was a simple steel band. Actually, it was blaststeel. It had apparently been made from the hull of some super huge Greenie battleship. The admiral—female type—had given it to The Cat as “something borrowed,” since Cat hadn’t had time to buy Tam a ring.
“Dumbass,” she muttered as she took the ring, and, as directed by the chaplain/priest/whatever, put it on Tamman’s hand.
As he watched the two kiss, he thought to himself that this was going to be an interesting marriage. Then, as his mind usually worked, he wondered how Nancy was getting on.
* * * * *
Chris Maddox Bio
Chris Maddox started reading science fiction and fantasy as soon as he could read. He's been looking up to the stars ever since. When he's not writing, he works as an electronics technician in the Aerospace Industry. He lives in Delaware with his wife, Christine and their three dogs.
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Planetfall by Chris Fox
Chapter 1
The sun shone brilliantly on the Kamiza’s slate roof as I departed for the last time. War mages in their deep blue gis sparred in the sprawling temple’s yard, their leaps carrying them high into the air, where they unleashed lightning, or flame, or void from their spellblades.
Not far from the war mages, the paladins—my brethren—engaged each other in full spellarmor, with shield and blade. In the distance, the high-pitched whine of light bolts gave away the practicing snipers, though I couldn’t see them, of course. Few people did.
I knew I’d miss all this, but I also knew that nothing remained here for me. I’d been ordered to active service and needed to meet my new mistress. I’d tarried as long as I could.
My Inuran spellfighter, golden and proud to match my armor, waited on the landing pad on the Great Tree’s eleventh branch. A pair of white-scaled hatchlings stood guard next to the walkway leading to the fighters, and I paused before them, then rapped my silver staff on the ground twice, respectfully.
Both hatchlings continued to stare into the distance with those slitted eyes, their wings held high over their shoulders, and their golden armor gleaming. They gave no sign of being aware of my presence, but after a moment, both rapped their staves against the ground once in unison, triggering a small shower of sparks.
“Maker’s wisdom,” I murmured with a respectful nod as I strode past the looming sentinels. Neither responded, though I hadn’t expected them to.
Paladins were expected to be a stoic lot, and hatchlings were the most stoic of all. They could hardly be blamed, though, as they would mature into the Wyrms who guided the Vagrant Fleet and enacted the will of the pantheon.
I ran a hand along my fighter’s wing as I strode to the cockpit. The Mark III wasn’t the fastest, but I knew how she flew and how far I could push her. Ethereal blue stairs descended in a slow half spiral to meet my feet, and I trotted up them, pausing as the canopy finished opening.
I was decent with a staff. I was good with a sword and shield, or a rifle. But flying? That was my favorite activity, and the thing I was absolutely best at. I had clocked thousands of hours in my fighter, and I’d only had it for four years.
I slipped inside and buckled the matrix’s harness. Once I was safely locked, I tapped the initiation sigils on the liquid gold ring slowly rotating around my command couch.
A river of bright golden light flowed from my chest, drawn into the ship’s matrix as the connection between us was reforged anew. The reactor fired, and we blasted off the platform and into the sky over the planet Inura, my home world.
Once I’d gained enough altitude, I tilted the fighter and banked so I could get one last view before departing. I might never return, and if I did, it would likely be decades from now.
The Great Trees dotted the land, each arboreal giant stabbing several kilometers into the sky. Smaller redwoods carpeted the valleys and hillsides around their larger cousins and lent the world a primal air. There was nothing to indicate the vast temples, or cleverly hidden roadways, that connected it all.
My people worked nature into everything we did, a seamless union of technology and life, welded together by life magic, the very same stuff that smoldered in my chest, that powered my fighter.
A grin took hold as I poured magic into the matrix and shot into the upper atmosphere. I was leaving something wonderful behind, but I was doing so in order to safeguard a galaxy where such a world could exist.
Plus I’d get to fly.
My fighter accelerated and broke free of the planet’s atmosphere, then the shaking ended. I guided myself into a wide course that took me to the planet’s dark side, where the umbral shadow lay.
A billion tiny fireflies dotted the darkened half of the world beneath me, showing every occupied area like a garden of jewels. I was more interested in the actual stars, and in the single greatest fleet that our galaxy had ever produced.
Hundreds of capital ships schooled around the titanic god-forged dreadnoughts that made the Vagrant Fleet the feared force it had become. Each dreadnought was a hundred kilometers long, and shaped to match the god who’d given the ship form.
I’d grown up knowing them all by heart, as they’d carried my people through the stars for countless millennia. I was descended from the Wyrm-god Inura, also known as the Maker, the god of life, and the father of the world I’d just left. If the stories were true, his blood flowed in my veins, and accounted for the supernatural beauty all members of our race
exhibited.
It was his ship I made for, the Inura’s Grace, a vessel I had always wanted to see up close. It was breathtaking. A smooth white hull with golden sigilwork along the prow, each detailing one of the battles the legendary vessel had taken part in.
Hundreds of spellfighters patrolled the space around her, broken into smaller squadrons that could respond instantly to any threat. Battleships and carriers floated at a distance, protecting their elder sibling with their very hulls if necessary.
I tapped the fire sigil on the silver ring, which rotated more rapidly than the gold. My fighter supplied the necessary magic, and my missive spell connected to the flagship.
“Inura’s Grace,” I began, feeling a bit self-conscious to be talking to the bridge. “This is Paladin-elect Seket from the Karnak Kamiza reporting for a rendezvous with Soulcatcher Patra.”
I tried to make it sound official, whatever that meant.
“Missive acknowledged,” a hatchling’s deep voice rumbled back. “Soulcatcher Patra departed on an urgent matter and left instructions for you to follow. She’s aboard the Remora, making for the Word of Xal. Speak to her for details. Inura’s Grace, out.”
The fighter’s HUD blinked as the Remora’s coordinates were uploaded, and the screen tagged the vessel with a tiny green triangle. I spotted her in the distance, a sleek silver corvette molded to resemble a marine creature with fins along the top and sides.
The computer clocked our relative velocities and added a countdown. At our current speed, it would take fourteen minutes to reach her.
A carefree laugh bubbled up as I poured magic into my fighter. “Guess I’ll just have to go faster, then.”
I pushed my fighter as hard as I have ever pushed it, the thruster whining as we shot past fighters and capital ships alike. I twisted around a carrier, then dipped a wing in greeting as I whipped by a flight of identical Mark IIIs.
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