by J. N. Chaney
Thorn sat up. Shit. There were Nyctus with her. Nyctus all around her. The images were jarring, and well beyond anything he could even begin to understand.
He’d already talked this out once with Kira, describing his recurrent dreams about Morgan. He couldn’t forget that he’d likewise had flashes and impressions of Kira, many of them in his dreams, when she was being held captive by the Nyctus, and wondered if Morgan might actually be alive—somewhere, wherever that somewhere was. In the reality of his life, lines were blurred because of magic, and even he, a Starcaster of rare power, couldn’t work through the details on his own.
Thorn sighed. “Maybe I do need counseling.”
“Do you want to open a request for access to medical services?”
“No,” Thorn snapped, cutting the AI off.
For a while, he just lay across his bunk, trying to feel tired enough to go back to sleep. Eventually, he gave up and got dressed. He had no particular destination in mind, so he just wandered the Hecate’s corridors. It wouldn’t take him long to cover the entire ship, but it was better than just brooding in his rack.
During dark watch, as the period that constituted night aboard the Hecate was called, ops were normally at a low ebb. The Duty Watch Officer would have command, with only essential stations manned throughout the ship. At most, there might be bustles of localized activity, as engineering crews sought to take advantage of the fact that most of the crew was asleep to get much needed work done in parts of the ship that were normally busy. Thorn actually enjoyed occasionally wandering the Hecate during dark watch. Enjoyed the relative peace, with his only companion the thrum and rumble and soft hiss of the ship’s inner workings.
Not so during this dark watch, though. Voices rose, punctuated by the occasional shout as damage-repair parties hurried about. Behind them all was the flare of welding arcs, the rattle and clatter of repairs underway. Sleep could wait until repairs were complete.
Thorn stepped around a pair of Ratings working on an open conduit and reached a corridor junction. He’d meant to turn left but stopped as a voice boomed out from his right.
“I mean sufficient in the nicest possible way! Please, gentlemen, don’t take my words the wrong way!”
Thorn recognized the speaker before even turning. It was Bertilak.
Thorn looked around the corner. The big alien stood with the new Chief Engineer and one of his Petty Officers, looking into an open access hatch. The Chief, a man named Delfino, ran a big hand over his bald pate, dark eyes looking up at an unusual sight—Bertilak. Thorn thought Bertilak had gone back to his ship, but here he was, even larger than life than he remembered.
Thorn started to pull back, meaning to find another way around, or even to just head back to his rack. But Bertilak turned and saw him. His green face split into a broad grin.
“Thorn, my friend. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Bertilak asked.
Thorn allowed himself an inward sigh, then walked around the corner and joined the little group. “I feel bad about sleeping when most of the rest of the crew is working,” he said.
Bertilak hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Ah, the mark of a true leader. Always thinking of his subordinates. I would do the same, but I have none. At least none that I know of.”
Delfino, irascible as always, crossed his arms and stared glumly into the open access port. Thorn saw electronic and mechanical stuff. He wasn’t an engineer, so he had no idea what it did. Aside from nothing, at least right now, given how much of it was pitted and scorched by heat or fire. “Be awfully damned convenient if our true leader here could magic up some replacement components for this power regulator.” He looked at Thorn. “Or can you?”
Thorn gave his head a shake. “I’m trying to conserve my powers in case we need them again in a hurry. Captain’s orders. If it’s a critical system, don’t you have spares?”
“We do. Four of them. Unfortunately, a runaway power surge took out five of them before the safeties kicked in.” He scratched at his trim beard. “Bertilak here thinks we can work around the damage. He thinks our tech is sufficient to handle the load if we just bypass the main regulator, plug the critical systems into the back-up processor, and reconfigure—”
He stopped, his eyes narrowing, then going wide.
“Wait. That would work if we can power the processor from an external source.” He turned to the Petty Officer. “Go get a portable generator. We can configure it to keep the processor powered up without frying it.”
The woman stared for a moment, then understanding dawned. “That’s brilliant,” she said, before turning and hurrying away. “Back shortly!” she called over her shoulder.
“I swear, Bertilak here is a fountain of good ideas,” Delfino said, shaking his head. “Never would have thought of powering it externally instead of trying to do it off the main bus if you hadn’t suggested this.” He smiled at Bertilak—a facial expression Thorn just wasn’t used to seeing on the dour Engineer—and shook his head. “You probably just saved us a good two hours trying to 3-D print replacement components.”
“I am always glad to be of service,” Bertilak proclaimed, looking pleased with himself.
It made Thorn want to scowl, but he held it in, a neutral expression covering his features.
Movement behind him made Thorn turn. Another pair of Ratings had appeared, hauling a length of conduit. “Excuse me, sir,” one of them said to Thorn, his voice straining slightly under the load, “but you’re kinda in our way.”
Thorn stepped aside and the Ratings struggled past him, lugging their burden to wherever it was needed.
“You know, Lieutenant,” Delfino said, “if you’re not actually involved in repairs, then it’s probably best if you go back to your quarters.”
Thorn blinked. Determined to not take it as an insult, he opened his mouth to apologize, but the Chief Engineer turned back to Bertilak. “There’s another problem I’d love you to take a look at, if you could,” he said to the alien. “There’s a harmonic in the fusion reactor that’s pulling down its efficiency. The whole reactor apparently came a little loose from one of its mounts during the battle. We braced it back down, but this harmonic won’t go away, and I’m leery about running the drive at full power while it’s happening.”
Bertilak nodded. “By all means, let’s see what we can do for you.” He glanced back at Thorn, offered a friendly smile and a wink, then turned and followed the Chief away.
Thorn abruptly found himself alone. And not just alone, but—
“Excuse me, sir!”
Thorn pressed himself against the bulkhead as another Rating hurried past, cradling a power coupling.
Not just alone, but in the way.
Thorn sat jammed into the Captain’s briefing room, a faint glower on his face, as the XO finished up her summary of the crew’s repair efforts.
“Bottom line,” she said, “is that we’ll be able to fire up the Alcubierre drive in about four hours, give or take a bit. Chief Delfino says he’ll have a firmer estimate in about an hour.”
Tanner leaned back as far as the cramped space allowed. “Last I heard, it was going to be another eight to twelve hours before we could say goodbye to this miserable little piece of the universe. Not that I’m complaining, but what changed?”
“Bertilak is what changed,” the XO said. “According to the Chief, he spent most of dark watch helping out with what turned out to be about a hundred good ideas.”
“Starting to wonder if there’s anything that guy can’t do,” the Tac O said.
Before he could stop himself, Thorn gave a derisive snort.
Tanner turned to him. “Something to add, Lieutenant?”
“I just get a little nervous over the fact that Bertilak seems to know so much about our tech. So much in fact that he seems to know it better than we do.” He swept a skeptical look around the gathering. “Doesn’t anyone else find that a little strange?”
“He’s saved us literally hours of work, Lieutenant,” the XO
said.
“And that was after saving our butts from those squid ships,” the Tac O added.
Thorn hesitated. “That’s something else that seems strange—those four squid ships were able to get so close without us detecting them.”
“Okay, I’m listening. The same thought had occurred to me,” Tanner said, then he turned to the Tac O. “Lieutenant Osborne, have you had a chance to follow up on that yet?”
He nodded. “As much as I can, sir, without sitting down and doing some detailed analysis of the sensor logs. It might be some sort of cloaking tech, but—” He glanced at Thorn.
“And you still don’t think magic was involved,” Tanner said, turning back to Thorn.
“I don’t know, sir. I didn’t sense anything. In any case, Shading normally isn’t perfect. It works best on someone who’s entirely unaware. The more they’re looking for trouble, the more likely they are to see through even the best Shade. And I’ve been told that we were constantly doing full, spherical scans.”
“But it’s possible,” Tanner said.
Thorn gave a grudging nod. “Yes, sir. I guess it’s possible.”
“What do you suspect is going on here, Lieutenant?” the XO asked. “You’re obviously suspicious, but about what, exactly?”
Thorn leaned forward, searching for the right tone. “It’s just too coincidental—too neat. First we were ambushed by a group of squid ships that somehow got really, really close without us knowing it. Then Bertilak shows up out of nowhere just when we’re on the ropes, saves the day, and now proves to be a genius when it comes to fixing our ship.” He shook his head. “Again, am I the only one who finds that strange?”
Tanner leaned back again, his gaze on Thorn.
“Well, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. However, I recognize your concerns, Lieutenant Stellers, and will make sure we keep an eye on Bertilak while he’s on board.” He sat forward again. “And, on that note, I think we’re done here. We’ll do another of these little meetings in two hours, at . . . eleven hundred hours. XO, I’d like all Division Heads present, so we’ll commandeer the forward mess.”
“Aye, sir, roger that.”
“Stellers,” Tanner went on, “I’d like you to stay for a moment.”
Thorn, who’d been starting to his feet, now sat back down. Raynaud and Osborne both glanced at him curiously as they left.
“Alright, Stellers,” Tanner said when the others were gone. “What’s going on here?”
“Sir?”
“You ask if you’re the only one who finds everything that’s been going on strange. The answer is, of course not. It’s all strange as hell. But so is using the power of magic to deflect a mega-KEW from Code Gauntlet, or to move an entire fleet across hundreds of light-years. This whole war is strange. So what, specifically, is your issue with this situation? Call it my need to know details.”
Thorn sighed. “I don’t know, sir. I get that, on the surface, anyway, it all seems on the up-and-up. But there’s just something about it all, something that feels . . . off.”
“Off.”
“Aye, sir.”
Tanner settled back. “And off is as specific as you can be.”
“Without inventing words, that’s as close as I can get, and believe me, sir, I’m trying to find specific data to address, despite your willingness to indulge my instincts.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” Tanner asked. “The Starcaster has a feeling—not that they haven’t helped in the past—but he can’t give me a direction. You’re aware of my love for evidence? It’s a Fleet training issue, but damned if I can break free of needing facts.”
Thorn sighed again. “Once more, sir, I don’t know. Just be careful, I suppose.”
“Ah. Be careful. Unlike the rest of the time, when we’re all careless and sloppy.”
“No, sir. That’s not what I mean.”
“Stellers,” Tanner snapped, then he paused and resumed in a more measured tone. “Thorn. Have to be honest—if anyone has been off lately, it’s you. Ever since whatever happened when that Witch Nebula popped into existence, you haven’t been quite yourself.”
All Thorn had told anyone is that he, like all other Starcasters, experienced the birth of the Witch Nebula as an eldritch shockwave that had rippled through the ether. Technically, that was true. He just left out the part about it happening while he was trying to bring his daughter back from the dead. The Starcaster Corps had concluded that the formation of the Witch Nebula was somehow also related to the rebirth of Nebo, but again, Thorn had stayed silent about the details.
His reasons were good ones. But he also understood where Tanner was coming from. He had been off ever since. How could he not be? Bringing Morgan back enough that he could talk to her, almost touch her, only to lose her again—how could that not leave him feeling off, both magically and emotionally?
But he couldn’t tell Tanner any of that, could he?
“There’s something you’re holding back,” Tanner said flatly. “Something you’re not telling me. And that’s a problem, Stellers.”
Thorn needed to tell Tanner something.
“I just haven’t felt right since the Witch Nebula appeared, sir,” Thorn finally said. “I’m doing my best to recover from it, but it’s taking more time than I thought it would. It’s not just my magical state of being. It’s beyond that.”
Tanner stared at Thorn for a while, his look an appraising one. Finally, he spoke up.
“Stellers—Thorn—my second posting as a Lieutenant was aboard the Conqueror, as Junior Tactical Officer. The Captain was a hell of an imposing man—loud, larger than life, but he had competence leaking out of him. He was a rising star in the ON, seemed to be destined for Admiral. Everyone just assumed he’d have his own flag someday. And then, he wasn’t. To this day, I have no idea what happened. He did something, or said something, or pissed in the wrong person’s porridge. Anyway, whatever it was, it took him completely off the radar. Overnight, he went from a rising star to a bitter has-been. Last I heard, he’d taken an early buyout.”
“Sir, why are you telling me this?” Thorn asked.
“Because, Lieutenant, I’m keenly aware of the fact that you shot up to prominence virtually out of nowhere and have accomplished some amazing things. Again, you saved Code Gauntlet and hundreds of lives there. You were instrumental in pulling the Fleet out of the fire when the squids set up that massive ambush. You’ve brought the war to the squids in a way that the ON, by itself, never could—you’ve been a rising star.” He leaned forward. “So I’m telling you this to suggest that maybe you’re feeling like your star has stopped rising and just got stuck. And having Bertilak explode onto the scene has given you something upon which to vent your frustration.”
Thorn stared. “Sir, are you saying I’m—what, resentful of Bertilak?”
“Are you?”
“No, but I’m suspicious, and I trust my gut,” Thorn countered.
“Stellers, give me a piece of evidence, something objective and real, that Bertilak is a threat, or even just a problem. Anything. You’re my Starcaster and a member of my crew, so I’ll believe you.”
Thorn thought for a moment.
What, exactly? What had Bertilak done that would constitute a threat or a problem? He’d shown up in dramatic fashion to save the Hecate at the last minute, sure—but Thorn had been on the receiving end before when the Hecate had saved him and Mol. He’d thought they’d been beaten by the Nyctus after they destroyed one of the squids’ orbital platforms, but he hadn’t resented the Hecate for saving them.
But Bertilak? He’d not only saved their collective asses, but then he came aboard and charmed the crew, proving himself to be gregarious, witty, insightful, and damned good with tech. He’d asked for nothing in return—
“He seems too good to be true,” Thorn said, but even he had trouble believing it.
Tanner gave a thin smile. “He’s too good to be true isn’t much of a criticism,
Lieutenant, without something to also say how and why.”
“I know, sir.”
Tanner shifted in his seat, then smiled, and it was a paternal expression. “Go think about it, Stellers. And don’t forget your assigned duties while you do. When you’re ready to present evidence, I’ll listen. You’ve earned that much.”
Thorn stood. “Aye, sir. I—” He finally just shook his head. “Thank you, sir.”
He left Tanner’s briefing room and headed for the witchport. The Captain wanted him to maintain a magical watch around the Hecate until she could get underway again. That much, at least, he should be able to accomplish even with his powers still mostly choked off.
As he made his way forward, though, he couldn’t get past what Tanner had implied, which distilled down to Thorn’s need to be at the center of things, not existing as a support staff for an alien with opaque motives.
He would watch Bertilak, and he would be alert. For now, that was all he could give, because Morgan was out there, and the war was still hot, and Thorn’s tank of power was still perilously low.
12
“Have you seen the latest?” Damien asked, barging into the Venture’s common area and waving a data pad.
Kira winced. Now what?
She took the data pad that Damien held out and read what was on the screen—an ON intel report. She felt her mouth falling open the further she read but didn’t think to close it.
She finally looked up. “This is real?”
Damien shrugged. “No reason to believe it isn’t.”
Kira checked the transmission time stamp. They were well beyond the range at which real time comms with the Fleet was possible, so the message had been in transit for almost eight hours. Working backward, Kira quickly reasoned that the report must be describing events that happened a day or so ago.
She’d had three meetings with a number of Danzur, Tadrup among them, and not one of them had even hinted at what the data pad was telling her—that the Danzur had seized two planets on the edge of Allied Stars space. Neither was inhabited, but both were relatively resource-rich and considered part of the AS strategic inventory. Only the fact they were so far forward, and therefore exposed, had prevented any exploitation of them so far.