Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “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, two million, one 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 attending 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 offe
r 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.

  Her focus was the Pool of Stars, or, more properly, the picture of Una’s Ass. She held the image fast in her mind, using it like a beacon. Her consciousness swung to and fro through the years, hunting for it. She knew it was out there, somewhere and somewhen—

  Ah. There. She saw it in the remote, temporal distance. She allowed herself to be drawn to it, the way the flicker moths were drawn to the lights of the farm on Nebo at night. And just like that, the Pool of Stars was right there, hanging against a starscape, about to depart on its maiden, and doomed, voyage.

  The image of Una’s Ass zoomed in, filling her awareness. Okay, the first thing to fix was that. She knew exactly how she wanted Morgan’s Ride to look, right down the particular colors of the horse she’d be riding. For instance, it had a white blaze on its forehead, a startling splotch of brightness against its dark coat.

  But nothing happened. She could see Una’s Ass, but she couldn’t change it.

  Oh. Wait. Right. She hadn’t actually changed the universe yet. Her awareness was in the past, but that was it.

  She drew up more magic and began to shape it according to her desire, the clay of creation feeling good in her small hands. The Pool of Stars started forward in time, traversing it the same way it would fly through space. Now Morgan had to strain, exerting her will to overcome the inertia of creation. Apparently, the universe didn’t like having time change the way it worked. Again, her head began to throb. Wisps of blood drifted from her nose. She was making headway, but it was so hard. She needed a touchstone, something upon which to focus her efforts and channel her power. It was like when Daddy watered the sour-pod trees, back on Nebo. If he didn’t use a hose, the water would just splash all around the pump. The hose let him make the water go where he wanted it to.

  She bore down harder, grinding her teeth. She had something like that, didn’t she? Hadn’t there been something that she’d used? It was suddenly all so cloudy, her memories blurry. A face? A sewn patch? Words that said Orbital Navy?

  It didn’t matter. It was working. The Pool of Stars had begun to cross time, blurring through the years, part of it still rooted in the past, and part of it now in space, above Tāmtu—

  Like a fat rubber band stretched too much, time snapped back, pulling the Pool of Stars with it. Grimly, she dug deep into the magic, drawing more and more to her. Much of it was wasted, though, and simply dissipated around her in swirls and eddies and bursts of lost eldritch potential.
She just drew up more to replace it. Blood swirled around her face, and her whole body hummed and tingled, like thousands upon thousands of little electric shocks rippled through her.

  Again, the Pool of Stars began dragging itself across the decades.

  The ship began to merge with now, more and more of it fading from then, from the past. It was working. She could even see the picture of Una’s Ass, and not just in her memories. As the Pool of Stars became more and more real in the present, it grew more solid and persistent in Morgan’s awareness. She could see it now, the clunky, boxy shapes of its struts and modules blotting out the stars above Tāmtu—and Una’s Ass, the silly girl and her sillier donkey, was right there. It was real, and she could see it, could almost touch it.

  The past still clung to the ship like cobwebs, though, holding it back from coming fully into the present. Morgan pushed and pulled, trying to shake it finally free. Time was stubborn, though, not wanting to surrender its normal, linear nature, where second followed second, minute followed minute, effect followed cause. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get the last of the ship’s existence to join with this one, this new one, where she wanted time travel to be something you could just do. She finally began hammering at the obstinate bonds of reality, like Daddy swinging his axe to cut a dead branch off a sour-pod tree. If she pounded at them enough, they should finally break.

  Unconstrained magic howled around her now, a wild, unfocused storm of it that turned Tāmtu’s water to ice, to steam, to swirling foam, shot through with bursts of bluish flame and dazzling lightning bolts. But she doggedly refused to give up. She’d come too close to changing Una’s Ass to Morgan’s Ride. It wasn’t about testing her ability to move things through time anymore. This was about her getting what she wanted. The universe would obey her, it was as simple as that.