Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “Well, that’s good,” Kira said. “It at least gets our foot in the door.”

  “He won’t be available.”

  “I thought you just said you’d set up a meeting with him.”

  Damien nodded. “I did. But he’ll send some underlings. It’s going to turn out that some other pressing business will be keeping him away.”

  Kira had to shake her head. “Why? What would be the point?”

  “It lets them keep the initiative—control the flow of events,” Damien replied.

  “Have I mentioned that I hate these diplomatic mind games?”

  “More than once.”

  “Okay, fine,” Kira said. “So what do we do about it?”

  “Make sure Tadrup shows up.”

  “Wow. What a great idea. The question is, how do we do that exactly?”

  Damien smiled. “Well, that’s where we take advantage of that spooky Starcaster reputation you have.”

  Kira simply sat and waited for Damien to finish his diatribe.

  “Frankly, we find it inappropriate. Unacceptable. As a diplomat, I’m offended—dare I say angered at such a wanton display of crude behavior, well beneath the commonly held value structure of a people who are known to grasp just what it means to be civilized.” Damien drew in another breath, finger pointing skyward as he launched into his next statement, cheeks colored red with anger. “Tadrup agreed to this meeting, so it’s only reasonable, I think, for Tadrup to be here, unless my understanding of language has deteriorated overnight!” Damien barked.

  Wow, Kira thought—damned fine performance. Damien was really pulling out the big diplomatic guns here, and the hand gestures were a nice addition. Damien looked like an orchestral conductor bellowing at his wayward performers, and the whole image worked.

  The Danzur across the table just nodded, though, too seasoned to take the bait. “I understand, and sympathize. Unfortunately, the situation is beyond his control. He asked me to assure you that he would make himself available as soon as he could.”

  “We’d appreciate speaking with him now,” Damien replied.

  The Danzur underling stared back at him. That was Kira’s cue.

  She summoned magic to her, then crafted it into a tendril of suggestion, one that would allow her to shape the Danzur’s thoughts like potter’s clay. It helped that this Danzur was just a functionary. A complete lack of imagination made her task that much easier. She nudged and tweaked the alien’s thoughts as they formulated yet another empty answer to Damien’s statement.

  “I will go and get him,” the Danzur said, voice flat and oddly hollow as he stood to leave the meeting room. The alien seemed a little hesitant, a lingering residue of free will, but Kira didn’t care. She was beyond tired of these Danzur and their petty, scheming bureaucracy, and it was time to flex her power.

  “Thank you,” Damien said, smiling broadly.

  He glanced at Kira but said nothing. The plan was for them to wait in silence, since the Danzur presumably had the meeting room bugged.

  But Kira turned to Damien. “I do like working with Tadrup. He’s been really helpful.”

  Damien raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “You remember,” Kira said, winking, “when he gave me that thing—well, it’s been damned helpful. We wouldn’t be this far without that data, and as for the upper hand in those contracts? Without him, no way.”

  Damien smiled, so blandly as to be robotic. “Oh that. He’ll be rewarded. Not sure how, but—"

  The door slid open. Tadrup entered, followed by the Danzur who’d just fetched him.

  “I understand that you are reconsidering your position regarding Thorn Stellers,” Tadrup said.

  Damien gave Kira a curious—and prearranged—glance. “I don’t know what you mean, Tadrup. We simply asked to meet with you to resume negotiations for a way forward.”

  Tadrup shot a quick glance at the other Danzur. “I was informed that you had changed your minds about handing over Stellers to us.”

  “I’m sorry, Tadrup, but no,” Damien said. “We merely wished—”

  “Enough!”

  Tadrup’s single word cracked like a gunshot. Kira had seen it coming, a growing tension in his thoughts, like a balloon expanding, stretching, finally reaching its breaking point.

  “You are wasting my time,” Tadrup said, his translated voice now closer to the snarls, hisses, and growls of their actual speech than Kira had ever heard it. “I’m sure you believe you’re being clever, but you’re not.”

  “Tadrup, we are—” Damien began, but it was Tadrup’s turn to push on, accepting no interruption.

  “Dealing in bad faith is what you are doing. We have made our position clear. Deliver Thorn Stellers to us and we will conclude an agreement with you. Otherwise, we will be at war.”

  “Tadrup, there has to be some other—”

  “No! There isn’t! There is no other way that we are willing to accept!”

  Kira kept as much of her mind as she could on the physical conversation, but she focused most of her concentration on his thoughts. She watched them, feeling them, as Tadrup’s mind formulated ideas and crafted them into words.

  “Tadrup,” Damien said, “a war between us benefits no one except the Nyctus. It weakens both you and us, making it that much easier for them to prevail.”

  “We have had nothing but favorable, and quite lucrative dealings with the Nyctus,” Tadrup shot back. “They have proven themselves to be honest and dependable. All that your race has done is harm our relations with them. If anything, we would formalize our alliance with them and take up arms against you.”

  “Tadrup—” Damien started.

  “No! The Nyctus are right! Humans are a pox on the galaxy!” Tadrup leaned in, all pretext at diplomacy apparently gone. “You have four days to confirm that you are going to produce Stellers. At the end of that time, if you do not, then your diplomatic credentials will be revoked, and you will be treated as intruders in Danzur space.” He settled back again. “So I would suggest that you think long and hard about whether you should still be here for that eventuality.”

  Without another word, Tadrup stood and walked out, the other Danzur following.

  Silence hung for a moment, then Damien blew out a breath. “Well, that was emphatic.”

  Kira nodded. It seemed inevitable now that their negotiations would fail and her first involvement in diplomacy would probably also be her last.

  16

  Thorn tossed his shaving kit into his bag last so it would be the first thing he unpacked. It was an old habit by now, packing it in reverse order of how soon he was likely to need something. It brought to mind a forty-five minute lesson back at Code Nebula, overseen by Narvez, in which Thorn and his fellow recruits had been taught how to pack their gear. He remembered thinking at the time just how stupid that was—they were actually taking time to show adults how to fold up t-shirts and roll socks to pack them away. But it was just another of those little things he’d come to appreciate about the military, that a professional soldier was actually made of a multitude of small, specific skills—

  The door chime sounded. Thorn turned and opened it, and his eyes went wide when he saw it was Tanner.

  “Sir, what brings you slumming it into junior officers’ territory?”

  “First of all, Stellers, I don’t need to explain why I choose to visit any part of my ship. Second, I don’t consider visiting any part of my ship to be slumming it. Did you catch the emphasis on my ship, Lieutenant?”

  “Loud and clear, sir.”

  He stood aside so Tanner could enter his quarters. The Captain nodded at the door. “Close that.”

  Thorn did, then he turned to Tanner and waited. The man was obviously here to say something to him, and if he’d learned anything in the ON, it was to let the captain speak when he was good and ready.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Lieutenant,” Tanner said. “That I owe you an apology for what’s gone on with Bertilak.”


  “I hadn’t thought that at all, sir.”

  “Good, because I never do anything without a reason. It’s in my nature, as I abhor wasting time and effort, and above all else, the lives of my people.” Tanner gave Thorn’s bruises a searching look. “As to a little violence, well, I’m not above cracking some eggs to make an omelet, as the saying goes.”

  Thorn curled his lip, wincing around his bruised face as he did. “My head does feel rather egg-like. Or at least my face does, sir. But—you don’t like wasting time, and you still came here to not apologize for encouraging me to get in the circle with an unknown alien? Sir?”

  “No, I came here to tell you why I’m not sorry and what I expect from you. None of this is being done on a whim, Stellers, as I’ve explained. Bertilak clearly has knowledge and tech that would be extremely useful for the ON to possess. Other than that, we know almost squat about him. He claims to be the only being of his type, but that’s unlikely, if not impossible.”

  “So, you want me to find out more about him, sir?”

  “Damned right. Everything you can. And what better way than spending some time alone with him aboard his ship?” Tanner handed over a data chip meant to be plugged into a data pad. “Also, on here you’ll find a series of crib notes from the Chief Engineer about what to look for when you’re flying with Bertilak, and what technical questions to ask him.”

  Thorn nodded. “Got it, sir.”

  “That’s not all, Stellers. I have another reason for sending you away with our big green friend. And it’s got nothing to do with his origins, or his species, or his tech. It’s about you.”

  “About me—” Thorn began, then he gave Tanner a perplexed look. “Sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

  “Stellers, I’ve seen you with your magic powered down more than once. When you inadvertently flung the Hecate halfway across creation and couldn’t use your powers for a while after . . . I get it. After something big your power gets depleted and you need time to recharge. Do I have that right?”

  “More or less, sir.”

  “Well, this is different. Your magic—your mojo, as I’ve heard Wyant call it—seems to be stuck in a position like a scrammed reactor. You don’t seem to be bouncing back this time. Ever since that Witch Nebula appeared, you’ve been sitting in the bottom of a trough, and you can’t seem to get out of it. Have I got that right?”

  Thorn started to speak but cut himself off. Tanner’s insight was right on the money—much more so than he expected from the Captain. He’d always assumed that Tanner saw him as a black box. Put in an order to do something magical at one end and get a magical effect out the other. He’d never appreciated that the man gave that much consideration to what Thorn actually did.

  But of course he did. If there was one thing Thorn had learned about Tanner, it was that he was fervently devoted to his crew. All his crew.

  So Thorn finally nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s . . . complicated. It goes back to the destruction of Nebo, and—” He stopped and shook his head. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  “Don’t need the details,” Tanner said. “What I need is a Starcaster in top working order. Right now, I don’t have that. So, I’m hoping that some time away from the Hecate with Bertilak might give you some perspective. You’ll have no other humans around, no specific ON duties—you’ll be free from the environment aboard this ship that, let’s face it, is all about conformity and being part of a team. Stellers, I think you need some time away from that—some time to be yourself.”

  Thorn just stared at Tanner. The Captain’s insight into his magical affliction hit awfully close to the mark despite Thorn keeping most of what it was about to himself. Not for the first time, Thorn wondered if there was more to it than just an especially perceptive man. Maybe he had some rudimentary capacity for Joining—

  But Thorn cut that line of thinking off. Attributing everything to magic diminished the fact that Tanner was just a damned good commanding officer.

  “I appreciate that, sir,” he said, nodding at Tanner. “I get what you’re saying, and you may be right. Some time away might be what I need.”

  “Just remember that it’s temporary duty, Stellers. If you and Bertilak hit it off, and you decide that flying around space with him is what you want to do—well, I’ll come looking for you with an arrest writ for desertion in hand.” Tanner’s eyes twinkled with the threat, making Thorn grin.

  “Understood, sir. I can honestly say, though, that the chances of me becoming star buddies with Bertilak are . . . small.”

  Tanner headed for the door but paused before he left.

  “You never know, Lieutenant. Opposites attract and all that, right? Just think, your exploits might be shown to students someday.”

  “I’d rather not be known as a sidekick to a green alien who bellows all the time, sir. Bad for my image.”

  Tanner favored Thorn with a rare smile, then said, “Work on surviving and learning. Leave shaping your legacy to me. You get us this tech, and I’ll have statues of you in every port.”

  “Loud and clear, sir.”

  Tanner left, and Thorn felt the weight of his unwanted mission push down even harder. Starcasting, it seemed, meant being a detective as well.

  As he made his way to Bertilak’s ship, Thorn considered—not for the first time—whether he should contact Kira and let her know what was going on. On one level, it made sense. She had every reason to be interested in what Thorn was up to and would probably find this particular little jaunt amusing. On the other hand, Thorn taking off with an alien of some unknown species, who was essentially a complete stranger, might just make her worry, and he had to consider how much of his need to tell her was tied to his own desire for commiseration. As to causing her worry, that certainly wouldn’t help her do her own job.

  He rounded a corner and paused to let a Petty Officer striding purposefully somewhere with thunder on her face pass by. Somebody, somewhere was in the shit and would soon know it in no uncertain terms. In the time-honored tradition of soldiers everywhere, Thorn’s first thought was, Glad it’s not me.

  He carried on, his bag resting on his shoulder. As he did, he thought again about Kira and—

  Okay, Thorn was lying to himself. It was partly about not worrying or distracting her unduly. But it was more about the simple fact that Thorn was embarrassed.

  He’d let his emotions get the better of him. It was as simple as that. Whether Bertilak had known how to push his buttons or just lucked into it didn’t really matter. Thorn had let his gnawing guilt over his daughter, his frustration with his own diminished powers, and the general stress of the war get to him. He’d lost his cool with Bertilak, and in so doing had violated a cardinal rule he’d learned long ago as an orphaned kid. It was an important rule, too. Maybe the most important.

  Don’t pick a fight unless you’re sure you can win.

  He turned the last corner before the airlock. Ahead, he saw the docking port of Bertilak’s shuttle, and paused.

  He’d let his ego get the better of him. Again, regardless of whether it had been planned by the big green alien or had just turned out this way, it came down to the same thing. Thorn had picked a fight with an opponent of unknown strength and ability, and here he was.

  He should have just kept his mouth shut.

  Bertilak had already boarded his ship to prepare for departure from the Hecate. He’d left the shuttle in automated mode, making the crossing from the destroyer to the strange green ship under its own volition. Thorn waited for the brief trip to end. The shuttle finished clunking and banging against Bertilak’s ship as it docked, and with a soft hiss the airlock pressurized. As the door slid open, he saw a corridor extending ahead of him to a t-junction. The decks and bulkheads were the same green as the ship’s exterior. It certainly looked like an alloy not too dissimilar from that composing most of the Hecate—except for the being green part, anyway.

  “Thorn, my friend. Please, come aboard, and welcome.” The greeting w
as pleasant and sounded genuine, though it was naturally twenty decibels louder than it had to be. Bertilak was consistently exuberant, if nothing else.

  Bertilak had just appeared at the junction, beckoning Thorn forward. He thanked the big alien and stepped over the open hatch. Thorn was immediately struck by a sense of—bigger. Everything about the interior of Bertilak’s ship was larger than the Hecate, which only made sense given the alien’s size. Thorn realized that Bertilak had spent his time aboard the Hecate hunched over, ducking beneath things, and maneuvering his way through spaces he must have found too tight, as well as poorly designed.

  The converse was true here. Thorn felt like he was aboard some sort of luxury liner, with the ceiling well above his head, and the corridors about fifty percent wider than those of the Hecate. It was both refreshing having so much space to move around in, and off-putting—well, to have so much space to move around in.

  “Thanks, Bertilak. Good to be here.” To his surprise, Thorn spoke the truth.

  “Oh, no it’s not. At least, not entirely.” The big alien grinned. “I know that you don’t especially want to be here, and you certainly aren’t looking forward to traveling with me. For now, you’re overcome with the newness of this and are more amenable to the experience. Perhaps this will change as you see what things we can do out there in the stars.”

  Thorn gave a rueful smile.

  “Guilty as charged,” he replied. “But, it was a fair wager, and I lost—sucker punch or not—so here I am. And, yes, this is new.”

  “Your honor is above reproach, then, and here you are,” Bertilak agreed, his grin widening. “Now allow me to show you to your quarters, and then we will prepare to get underway.”

  Thorn followed Bertilak. There wasn’t much, it turned out, to the crew compartment of the ship, probably a dozen compartments at most. Bertilak opened one of them and gestured inside.