Witch Nebula (Starcaster Book 4)

by J. N. Chaney

  “Yeah, yeah. Force of habit, sorry. We’ve got some good stuff.”

  Bertilak glanced at Thorn, his expression one of warning. “Alright, and what, exactly, would this good stuff be?”

  Garlen answered by pulling a battered data pad out of a belt pouch, tapping it, then dropping it on the table. Its screen was smeared with something. Thorn didn’t want to know what. It showed a schematic, one that Thorn didn’t immediately recognize.

  “Particle cannons. Three prototypes, never deployed. The Calusians were trying to work out the bugs,” Garlen replied.

  Keely tapped the grimy screen. “They never could get them to work properly, mainly because they were being sabotaged. These ones were supposedly scrapped.”

  Thorn stared around the table. Particle cannons? Weapons? These people dealt in illicit arms? Bertilak dealt in illicit arms? It was a direction he hadn’t expected, because Bertilak verged on being goofy, with his oafish presence and boundless positivity. Weapon merchants—at least the ones Thorn had seen—were dark shadows in any room, no matter how many lights were glowing.

  “I need a moment to speak to my friend,” Bertilak said, standing and gesturing for Thorn to follow him.

  Thorn followed him out of the bar compartment, holding his tongue until the big alien had closed the hatch.

  “What the hell, Bertilak? These are, what, black market arms dealers? You’re a black-market arms dealer?”

  Bertilak smiled. “Now you see why I asked you to step out here.”

  “Instead of being honest and telling me up front.”

  “If I had, would you be here now?”

  “No. No, I wouldn’t. In fact, I wouldn’t be on this little jaunt with you at all. This is illegal, Bertilak. The ON arrests traders for this sort of thing.”

  “It would probably count as unethical, too. Even immoral,” Bertilak put in.

  Thorn just stared at him. “Immoral? Bullshit. It’s unconscionable. Do you know what these people do with shit like this? They kill children. They kill—”

  “Children? The weapons are not intended to kill children,” Bertilak protested.

  Thorn’s bark of laughter was loud and harder than steel. “Are you serious? How naïve are you? Once these are out of your big, green hands, every weapon you sell can and will be used to kill whatever is in the way. Of course innocents will die. It’s what happens when you sell hardware to people who have a cause and don’t care who gets hurt. Why would you do this?”

  Bertilak grinned. “For the money. There’s a lot of it involved. A lot. That’s what those high stakes we were talking about really are,” he said.

  Thorn was apoplectic, his fingers tapping across the talisman in a barely suppressed need to ’cast. “So who are these people, Garlen and Keely?”

  “Traders, like me.”

  “Traders.” The word was a curse. And more.

  “It sounds much better than arms dealer, or smuggler, don’t you think?” Bertilak offered.

  Thorn shook his head in utter disgust. “I can’t have any part of this, Bertilak. None. I’m an ON officer. I might be wearing civvies, but it doesn’t change my sworn duties, and even more importantly, I’m a human. I won’t give you an assist on stacking the bodies of people who aren’t soldiers. Hell, I wouldn’t even do it if it was strictly to be used on military targets.”

  Bertilak’s grin faded, and he gave Thorn a thoughtful look. “Does it change things if I tell you how much we stand to make from this job? That it’s three million, five hundred thousand credits, which I would of course split with you—sixty for you, forty for me?”

  Once again, Thorn briefly lost his words. Three point five million credits was nearly a lifetime of pay for him. Sixty percent of that would be a fortune. It wasn’t that he desperately needed the money for anything, at least not right now. But he wouldn’t be a soldier forever, and ON pensions were notoriously thin.

  He finally just gave Bertilak a look of confused surprise. “Forty percent for me. Why? I’m just your passenger.”

  “To buy your silence, of course.”

  “You really aren’t worried about the ethics or morality of this, are you?”

  “I don’t make money off of ethics or morality.”

  Thorn scrubbed a hand through his hair. “So why didn’t you hand Tanner an invoice for saving the Hecate?”

  “Because there are good reasons to ingratiate myself with the Orbital Navy. Contrary to everyone’s image of the roguish, romantic outlaw, the best way to stay in this sort of business is to cultivate good relationships with the authorities.”

  “Bertilak, look— “

  The alien cut him off with a raised finger. “I’m sorry, Thorn, but I didn’t ask you to step out here to ask for your permission or get your approval. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t do something stupid, like announce that you were an ON officer. If you’d done that, we’d be having a very different conversation with Garlen and Keely right now.”

  “So you expect me to go back in there with you, sit down, shut up, and watch as you negotiate to move three prototype particle cannons.” Thorn stopped, cocking his head. “I’m assuming the Calusians aren’t just throwing these things on the market because they can’t get them to work. So, from whom are these being shipped, exactly? And to whom?”

  Bertilak crossed his arms. “No idea.”

  “So these things could end up being used directly against the ON.”

  “Or by it. Your Hecate uses a transceiver design for some of its scanners that definitely came from our friends, the Calusians. I know, because I’m the one that moved it to a human dealer in Allied Stars space.”

  Thorn scowled and turned away. Bertilak could be lying. Or not. But it didn’t matter. Never mind the moral or ethical quandaries. Without at least knowing where the particle cannons were going, he couldn’t go along with this.

  “I’m sorry, Bertilak, but like I said, I can’t be part of this,” Thorn said, turning back. “It’s not up for discussion. I’m out. And if I had a big enough gun, I’d end this entire deal right now.”

  “I understand. And believe me, I admire your commitment to doing what you believe is right, even though it’s going to cost you your share of this deal and any future access to my tech. With such devotion to your principles, you won’t need it to win this war anyway. So, I will drop you off at the nearest neutral planet as soon as I can. You should be able to find your way home from there.”

  Thorn suppressed a sigh. Shit. That was a part of this he hadn’t considered. Bertilak’s tech was the priority. Never mind Bertilak’s stupid wager. The tech was the main reason he was here at all. How did three particle cannons of unknown power and effect stack up against the amazing tech he had aboard his ship? He’d one-shotted Nyctus corvettes and frigates, and could operate sensors through an Alcubierre bubble, something physics said wasn’t even possible.

  Plus, one million, four hundred thousand credits.

  Nope.

  It was illegal under Allied Stars law. The ON stopped commercial ships and inspected them for contraband, and it arrested traders found with it. And that was despite Bertilak’s assertion that ON ships were equipped with systems that were, at one point, contraband themselves. And what if these particle cannons were potent weapons and ended up in the hands of the Nyctus? They’d apparently only failed because someone was sabotaging them, probably so they could later peddle them on the black market.

  More fundamentally, he found himself flashing back on all the sacrifices people had made to keep the Allied Stars and the ON intact, to uphold the things they stood for. That included the law that Bertilak was about to break.

  This time, Thorn did sigh. “I think that’s best, Bertilak. I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re asking me to compromise too much here, and I know you handed my ass to me in the circle, but I’d like you to think of yourself as lucky that I don’t go past simply bailing on this idiocy.”

  “Very well. I’ll tell Garlen that you are attend
ing to something else. You should return to my ship, because we’ll be leaving here as soon as the cargo is aboard.”

  Thorn nodded once and threaded his way through the convoluted passages of Fringe, heading for Bertilak’s ship. Along the way, he found himself wondering just how and when he’d grown such a well-developed conscience.

  Thorn considered stealing Bertilak’s ship and just taking it back to ON space. As a bridge officer aboard the Hecate, he’d had enough cross-training on the essential basics of nav and helm to fill in during emergencies. If the alien’s ship had been at all similar, he could probably have worked it out. And if he couldn’t, there was always magic.

  But the strange controls of Bertilak’s ship meant nothing to him. And his magic was still too depleted to offer him the sort of power he’d need to make the ship controllable, much less fling it magically back into ON space.

  So he just lay in his expansive and comfortable bed—which he would really miss, by the way—and brooded, waiting for Bertilak to return.

  He was doing the right thing. But was he doing the correct thing? The best thing for everyone involved?

  He heard a thump and sat up. Bertilak appeared a few minutes later.

  “We’re about to get underway,” the big alien said.

  “I didn’t hear you loading anything aboard. How small are these friggin’ particle cannons anyway?”

  “The deal fell through.”

  “It did? What happened?”

  “I decided to give it a pass.”

  Thorn stood. “Oh? Why?”

  “Because, my friend, it would appear that I have caught a bad case of scruples from you.”

  “Um, sorry?”

  Bertilak laughed. “Don’t be. Now, my friend, let us go to the bridge and decide where we are going next. We have a three point five million credit loss to make up, and time is wasting.”

  23

  Once more, I’m here, Bertilak said.

  Morgan opened her eyes. She’d been drifting, resting, floating over a featureless stretch of the abyssal plain. The city was just a diffused spot of glow in the far distance. She’d decided to do the thing she was going to do here, away from the distractions of hydrothermal vents and bustle of the Nyctus as they went about their daily routine. Here, there was nothing. Just silence, broken by the occasional mutter and grumble, sounds so low-pitched they were just on the bottom edge of her hearing. The elder shaman had told her those were the sounds of Tāmtu itself, the planet shifting about, like someone trying to find a more comfortable position. Apparently, the periodic thrums and rumbles traveled through the water really well, much better than they would through air.

  No distractions. Just the restless movements of the planet, a featureless expanse of silty sand, and the serene water. And now, Bertilak.

  What do you want?

  You wanted me to test Thorn again. I did.

  Oh. Right. Okay.

  Once again, he passed.

  Morgan’s face creased in a frown. Are you sure?

  I am. I tempted him with as much as I could. Bertilak went on to describe what he’d done, and how Thorn had responded to it. So he wasn’t just giving up the money, he was ready to give up access to the technology he so badly wants for his people. He’s actually a very honest man.

  No, he’s not. He’s not honest at all!

  Well, your experience with him might be different. In mine, though, he’s devoted to doing what he thinks is right, Bertilak said.

  Morgan balled her fists. But he’s not! He was mean to me! He tried to change me into something I’m not!

  I believe you. But maybe, even then, he was trying to do what he thought was right.

  Why? He wanted to change me! How could that be right?

  I’m sorry. You’d have to ask him yourself. And maybe you should do that. Maybe he thought he had a good reason to do what he did. Maybe you should find out why he wanted to change you—

  Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore right now, Morgan snapped. She was wrapped in a moment where her youth was writ large over her words, her actions—her tone.

  As you wish.

  Bertilak’s presence vanished from Morgan’s mind. The whole exchange left her angry, bereft of any sense of victory over Thorn. She’d wanted Thorn—not her—to prove how terrible a person he was. She’d wanted him to lie and cheat, to do bad things, because that’s what he was, a bad man. It was why she’d made Bertilak and sent him to find him and test him.

  But it wasn’t working out that way. Bertilak’s second test had been a good one. She’d told him to offer Thorn so much money and stuff—just so much—to do something bad that he wouldn’t be able to resist. Then she’d have her proof, and she could do whatever she needed to do next. But Thorn wasn’t playing his part properly. He kept doing the right thing. He kept being a good person.

  So why had he been mean to her? Daddy on Nebo was her daddy. He was a good and honest man, and she loved him. But Thorn was her father. She should be able to love him, too. But she couldn’t, because he’d tried to take away everything that made her special.

  Why?

  She relaxed her fists, which were starting to ache. Fine. He was good. He was honest. He just didn’t like her. He didn’t like how she was and wanted her to be something different. There couldn’t be any right or good reason for that, no matter what Bertilak said.

  Fine.

  It took Morgan some time to calm down. She couldn’t do what she’d come here to do if she were mad or upset. She just floated for a while, watching that distant Radiance, listening to Tāmtu mutter away to itself, and the occasional far off sound of creatures hunting, or being hunted.

  Fine.

  Morgan nodded to herself. She’d calmed down enough, she thought. She was ready now to do what she’d come here to do. She was going to change things not just in the world now, but in the past, starting with the Pool of Stars. She was going to change the picture on it from Una’s Ass to Morgan’s Ride. If she could do that, then she could do anything. That included making it so the Nyctus wouldn’t be bad and wouldn’t want to fight their stupid war. They’d just be her friends.

  She actually felt a swell of pride, knowing that she was being a big girl now. Not a little kid, and not like mommy, but something in between.

  With a self-satisfied smile, Morgan closed her eyes, relaxed, and let her awareness drift down into that place deep within her, where the magic simmered away.

  So she needed to change the universe, but in the past. The first step was concentrating on that picture of Una’s Ass. Despite the gravity of her moment, she snickered, then tried to school her features into what she thought an adult would do.

  “That’s better,” she muttered, feeling her face grow stern. Sifting memories, she recalled the painted image on the strange ship, and it came to her in bright, rich detail. It was, in fact, the only part of the Pool of Stars she could recall in any detail. The rest of the ship was just complicated stuff, struts and girders and machines, none of which meant anything to her. But the picture of that woman, Una, riding that clunky donkey, loomed in her thoughts like she was staring at it right now.

  So that was the first step. Change the universe so she could reach back through time and—

  Huh. Wait. She knew the Pool of Stars had gone missing mysteriously. All the people on it had died. What if she made it so that, instead of going missing back then, it just existed now? What if the Pool of Stars could travel through time, making its way through the days and years and centuries the same way it traveled through space? The elder shaman had even once told her that time was like—it was like the size of something. Everything had a height, and a length, and a width, and then it also had something similar, except made out of time.

  “Hmph.”

  Morgan kind of got it. The elder shaman had called it all dissenting, or demolitions, or something like that. Anyway, there were four of them, and time was one.

  So she changed her mind. Instead of just reaching
back into the past and changing the Pool of Stars so the picture was Morgan’s Ride, she’d bring the Pool of Stars forward and change it right here. That would be better, anyway. After all, what was the point of changing the picture to a new and cool one like she imagined, her riding a beautiful horse, if it was just going to be lost anyway?

  Besides, if she did that, making it so that instead of getting lost, ships came to the present, then none of those people would die. The people aboard the Pool of Stars would still be alive, and so would the rest from every ship that made it to now instead of disappearing. They’d be happy, and they’d have her to thank for it.

  Morgan dug down into the deep pool of magic that shimmered away inside her, then she drew it up and projected it out, causing it to shape the universe to a new truth.

  To her truth.

  In her universe, ships like the Pool of Stars didn’t just go missing. They instead jumped through time, to the present day, with their crews alive and well. The Pool of Stars in particular would come to where Morgan herself was—

  Oops. Wait. She didn’t intend for the Pool of Stars to literally come to where she was, here under the waters and ice of Tāmtu. That would be dumb. The ship would appear in space, near Tāmtu, close enough that she could get the Nyctus to take her to it, so she could see and admire the new artwork on it. She’d also be able to talk to the crew, to tell them what she’d done. They’d be so happy.

  Morgan let the magic go, feeling it dissipate like puffs of smoke on a stiff breeze. She bit her lip, concentrating, reshaping her intent for the universe. Then she drew up magic again and started to craft a reality that conformed to her truth.

  One in which ships and people could travel through time.

  Right away, though, she found herself having to force her way forward, like swimming into one of the strong currents that swept through Tāmtu’s ice-locked seas. The universe didn’t want to give up its grip on time or let her change how it worked. She dug deeper, gritting her teeth, a throbbing pulse starting and growing behind her eyes.

  Her awareness didn’t just sweep through space. Now it swept through time itself.