by J. N. Chaney
Kira snorted. “I like the sentiment, despite it being a bit before my time.”
“Only one thing left to do now,” Damien said, eyes flickering out at the cruel reality of hard vacuum.
“We wait,” Kira said.
Damien nodded, then sighed. “We wait.”
“Three tens,” Damien said.
Kira sniffed and put her hand down. “Pair of Jacks. I drew nothing but shit.” She spoke the words, but in a kind of fugue state—Morgan was out there, and even the distraction of cards couldn’t pause the drumbeat of maternal worry. Morgan, we’re coming for you. Kira looked up, schooling her features into a relaxed state.
Damien chuckled. “Okay, so you owe me, let’s see. You owe me one hundred billion trillion credits.”
“Put it on my tab.”
Kira checked the time. The Danzur intercept should be happening in about ten minutes. She raised a finger to Damien. “We’ll have to leave the game there. I’ve got some Shading to do.”
Damien nodded, and she settled back. This almost certainly wasn’t going to do any good, but—
“Lieutenant Wixcombe?” the pilot said. “We’ve just picked up—holy shit.”
Kira sat up again, glancing at Damien. “What? What is it?”
“Sixty-three—no, wait, sixty-eight ships just appeared in-system. Warships, all of them.”
Damien raised an eyebrow. “Kind of overkill for one courier sloop, don’t you think?”
Kira sighed. “I’m thinking it’s the Nyctus. Shit.” They’d have come with shamans, wielding far more magical might than she could ever even dream of.
“You’d be wrong about that, Lieutenant,” the pilot cut in. “It’s the ON.”
She and Damien exchanged another look, this time of disbelief.
“Ma’am, I’ve got Admiral Scoville on the comm for you,” the pilot said.
Kira’s eyes never left the display. “Um. Okay. Put him on.”
“Lieutenant Wixcombe?” The new voice was gruff and snappy.
“Here, sir.”
“What’s your status?”
“We’re okay. Just—” She stopped and shook her head. “Sir, pardon my language, but what the hell is going on?”
“We’re paying a little goodwill visit to the Danzur with the Reserve Fleet. We’d have called ahead to let you know but didn’t really have the time. There’s someone else who can explain.”
“Hey, Kira.”
Her eyes widened. “Thorn?”
“Yeah. I brought some help for your negotiations.”
Kira unstrapped and clambered into the cockpit, peering over the pilot’s shoulder at the tactical display. It was full of ships, led by the massive bulk of the battleship Arcturus, carrying Scoville’s flag.
“Thorn, what the hell? Are you trying to start a war with the Danzur?”
“Not at all. You’ll notice that none of our ships have their weapons powered up or tracking sensors online. Like Admiral Scoville said, this is just a goodwill visit.”
“Ma’am, those three Danzur ships are pulling back. Fast.” The pilot tried to stay as professional as ever, but he couldn’t keep the gleeful relief out of his voice. Kira certainly didn’t fault him for that.
“I’ll bet they are,” Kira said, smirking, but the smirk, like her confidence, felt hollow. Morgan. Again, her name muscled into her thoughts.
Damien poked his head into the cramped cockpit. “Hey, Kira, guess what? Tadrup’s on the comm. He’s rather anxious to talk to us. Imagine that. A chatty Danzur.”
Kira smiled down at the tactical display, portraying the ponderous might of an entire ON fleet. She imagined the Danzur seeing the same thing, and then imagined their reaction.
“What did you tell him?”
“That we’d get back to him,” Damien replied.
“And we will. Eventually.” She grinned at Damien, who returned it.
“You sure you don’t want to join the diplomatic corps? You seem to have an instinct for it.”
Kira shook her head and gestured out the forward viewports. “Nope. Those are my people, out there."
Thorn’s voice came back on the comm. “Kira, Admiral Scoville has been invited aboard the Danzur orbital platform for a formal greeting ceremony. How about I meet you there?”
Kira opened her mouth to say, sure, absolutely, but stopped when the lead ship of the ON fleet caught her eye. It was small, of an entirely unfamiliar design—
And green.
And that’s where Thorn’s transmissions were coming from.
“Thorn, where are you right this moment?” she asked.
“Yeah, that’s one of the things we need to talk about.”
Kira nodded, staring at the lurid green vessel. “One among many.”
Thorn settled himself into one of the sumptuous seats in Kira’s diplomatic quarters, which had been quickly reassigned to her. “Diplomats have better chairs. And everything else,” he added, tapping the chair’s arm as his face darkened. Every moment, thoughts of Morgan intruded into his reality, even though he knew that her power met or exceeded his.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, believe me,” Kira replied.
Thorn had already given her the backstory. While Admiral Scoville met with the Danzur, Thorn had taken her aside and summarized everything that had transpired with Bertilak, the alien that had apparently been fabricated out of magic by Morgan. He’d described how, after regaining his full magical potential, he’d used it to transport himself and Bertilak back to Code Gauntlet, then hastily met with Scoville. Fortunately, he had enough credibility with the Admiral to convince him that the best way to bring the Danzur in line was to show them what the ON could do.
He’d done it by once more moving a fleet, this time right into the Danzur’s system. Without any warning whatsoever, almost seventy warships, including thirty capital ships, had suddenly popped into existence on their literal doorstep.
“You said the Danzur were awed and scared by the Nyctus magic. I deduced that a show of force—the kind that isn’t based on technology—would make them see the light, so to speak,” Thorn said.
Kira stretched out her legs. “I think you succeeded. Hell, having that fleet just materialize like that scared the shit out of me. I thought it might be the Nyctus.”
Before Thorn could answer, the door chimed. Kira opened it, and Damien entered. He stopped when he saw Thorn.
“Lieutenant Stellers, I presume,” he said.
Thorn stood and stuck out his hand. “I prefer Thorn.”
When introductions were done, they all sat again. “I just came out of Scoville’s meeting with Tadrup. The Danzur are almost panting to resume negotiations and get them resolved in a timely manner.”
Kira rolled her eyes. “So, sometime between now and never.”
“Actually, Scoville’s given it one week, and then he says the ON will assume talks have failed.”
Kira’s eyes widened. “Then what?”
“He didn’t say. He didn’t have to. Tadrup assured him a week was more than sufficient.”
“What a little weasel.”
“Tadrup? More like a little bear, actually, but I get the point,” Damien said, laughing. He turned to Thorn.
“Tadrup also asked for a meeting with you. The Danzur would like to meet the man who can move entire fleets around with his thoughts.”
Thorn sniffed. “It’s a little more complicated than that. I might look like I’m all here, but honestly, I’m spent. My nerves are fried, my daughter is, ah, displaced, and every moment I worry that I’ll break down because that innocent girl—my flesh and blood—isn’t here. With us. Where she should be.”
“The Danzur don’t need to know that,” Damien replied. “And as to Morgan, I can’t fathom your pain. I mean that. But for now, I think we’ll keep you a mystery to them. You’re this larger-than-life figure of power and menace in their eyes. It doesn’t hurt that the Nyctus made such a big deal about you.”
Thor
n’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“We’ll get to that. For now, I just want to take a few minutes and bask in the glow of this new friendship we have with our Danzur hosts,” Kira replied.
Damien grinned. “Hey, that almost sounded diplomatic.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I understand that Captain Tanner wants you back aboard the Hecate,” Bertilak said.
Thorn nodded. “So it appears.”
“I shall miss having you aboard the Jolly Green Giant, my friend.”
“Oh, you’re not going to be rid of me that easily. I plan on finally taking some of the leave I’ve got coming. I was kind of hoping to spend it with you, if you’ll have me,” Thorn replied.
Bertilak stared a moment, then grinned. “There will always be place aboard her for you, of course.”
Thorn raised a hand. “I’m not really talking about a pleasure cruise here, Bertilak.”
The grin faded. “No. Of course not. We must find Morgan.”
“Yeah, which is why—” Thorn began, then stopped when Kira appeared, poking her head hesitantly into the Jolly Green Giant’s bridge.
“I heard voices and followed them. My apologies for not asking for permission to come aboard,” she said.
“Pfft, we don’t stand on ceremony here. Please, be welcome aboard my ship.”
Kira walked onto the bridge, still wary. Thorn gave her reassuring smile, then turned back to Bertilak.
“That’s what I was about to say. Kira’s going to join us, at least for a while,” Thorn said.
“By all means! Welcome, Kira Wixcombe!”
“Kira, I’d like to introduce you to Bertilak. He’s—” Thorn cocked an eyebrow at the big alien, then smiled. “He’s a good friend.”
Bertilak looked at Thorn, his expression deeply grateful. He held it for a moment, then nodded once and turned to face them both.
“Now then, my friends, we have work to do.” The big alien clapped his hands together. “Where shall we begin?”
Epilogue
For a while, she simply drifted, carried along on placid currents.
As she drifted, she dreamed.
She was once more desperately trying to bring the Pool of Stars into the here and now, so she could refashion the artwork painted on its hull. Una’s Ass would become Morgan’s Ride, a beautiful horse replacing the ugly donkey. Her dream made real, replacing an old image, outdated, crude, and alien. Morgan was a human, and yet, she was not. She was many things, all contained in a small body with a mind that had no limits, just like her power.
It might have worked. She’d gotten so close. She’d almost managed to sever the last bond of time that held the ship in the past. A moment longer, and she’d have succeeded.
But it was in that moment that the Nyctus struck. The massed minds of a hundred shamans, joined in unison, had unleashed a barrage of power through the ether, driving into Morgan’s mind like a spear into flesh. She’d reeled under the assault, but even then, she had managed to hold her own for a time, stunning the seasoned enemy with the sheer depth of her power. The clash of magics sent the Pool of Stars flickering in and out of existence. It had been here, in the present, then it had snapped back to the past, before her power dragged it forward again.
Time itself began to unravel.
And still she might have won the day, except that Bertilak had chosen that most critical moment to contact her, with the news that Thorn Stellers had failed his third and final test. It had only distracted her for an instant, but that instant had been enough.
The Nyctus had driven their thoughts deep into hers, reshaping them in a violent sculpting that was part violation, and part artistry. In the process, their identities merged with hers, the combination leaking across her faltering links to the Pool of Stars. It snapped back into the past one, final time, and as it did, Morgan felt what happened to the crew. As the door of causality snapped closed on the past, and time reasserted itself, she heard them howling in agony, could sense their bodies becoming gelatinous, their limbs becoming tentacles. The comingled presence of her own thoughts, and those of the Nyctus invading her mind, imprinted itself on them.
She could feel their hatred radiating across the centuries, as hot as a volcanic vent.
Morgan knew where the Nyctus had come from, and the reality sickened her.
“Child?”
Her eyes snapped open. The light that flooded them was no longer the comforting blue-green of a womb sac. It strobed an angry orange-red, filling Tāmtu’s depths with a harsh, unforgiving light, like the glow of lava, freshly emerged from the punishing depths of a tortured world. She turned to the voice, her face expressionless and flat.
The same flame-colored lights crackled and sparked along the elder shaman’s body. He’d lifted his tentacles, but there was nothing beneficent about the gesture. It was all about menace, about power and domination.
A second Nyctus swam forward and handed Morgan the doll she’d once called Mister Starman.
“You know who this represents, child, don’t you?”
She stared at the doll and nodded, then regarded her creations. I made you, she thought, giving each Nyctus a searching look. I made you like I made Bertilak. Like I can make a world. Or a universe.
“Now then, child. What is your purpose?”
She looked at the doll a moment longer, then lifted flat, empty eyes to the Nyctus and spoke without hesitation. She was young, but she was not without guile. They would learn.
They would all learn.
“To kill Thorn Stellers.”
Around her, the Nyctus flashed their approval, and Morgan stayed as silent as the depths. Soon, there would be time enough for truth.
But not yet.
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About the Authors
J. N. Chaney is a USA Today Bestselling author and has a Master's of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. He fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. When he isn’t writing or gaming, you can find him online at www.jnchaney.com.
He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.
Terry Maggert is left-handed, likes dragons, coffee, waffles, running, and giraffes; order unimportant. He’s also half of author Daniel Pierce, and half of the humor team at Cledus du Drizzle.
With thirty-one titles, he has something to thrill, entertain, or make you cringe in horror. Guaranteed.
Note: He doesn’t sleep. But you sort of guessed that already.
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