Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  Yinzut’s answers, backed up by fleeting, superficial Joinings with her as she spoke, only confirmed it. When it came to the Astarti, what you saw was basically what you got.

  “So what has brought you so far from your home, Thorn my friend?” Yinzut asked.

  “Just a goodwill visit. The Allied Stars is looking for opportunities to open relations with new races, and we’re not going to let the fact the Nyctus sit in the way stop us anymore,” Thorn replied.

  “Sort of relations?”

  “Well, diplomatic, of course. But also trade, commerce, security—anything’s on the table, really.” Which was true. Thorn had been given remarkable latitude by the Allied Stars Council, via Fleet Command, to make offers and commitments as appropriate. That as appropriate left the final determination about what was ultimately appropriate up to the powers-that-be, of course, but that only made sense. Thorn still had the scope to do a lot of wheeling and dealing, without having to check back in with Fleet. He’d just have to be ready to answer for it when he got back to ON space.

  Yinzut leaned forward. “Trade. Commerce. Yes. Very interest in that.”

  Thorn glanced at Bertilak, who smiled. Motivated by profit, indeed.

  “Well, that’s definitely an area for us to explore. We’re always interested in new trade opportunities.”

  “Especially with Imbrogul.”

  Thorn grimaced before he could stop himself. How did Yinzut know that? Were these Astarti Joiners on some level he just couldn’t sense?

  But Bertilak leaned toward him. “I told them about that. The Imbrogul are a notoriously closed society and hard to access. The Astarti are one of the few races they deal with regularly.”

  Thorn nodded and looked back at Yinzut. “I’ll be honest. Yes, we’re especially interested in the Imbrogul, because they have some tech we’d really like to investigate. But that’s only because we already knew about the Imbrogul when we came here. We’re just as keen to do trade with, well, anyone, as long as it’s mutually profitable.”

  “Ah, yes. Mutually profitable is desire. What is Imbrogul tech that interests you?”

  Thorn corrected it to desirable in his head, then considered his next words. How much should he reveal here, about the ON’s interests in this?

  But the question instantly answered itself. The Astarti were obviously far more familiar with the Imbrogul than he was, so any attempt to dissemble or be evasive was going to fall as flat as the surface of a neutron star. So he decided to conceal essentially nothing at all.

  “We’re working on gravity tech, and understand that the Imbrogul have an advanced form of it. We’d really like to get access to it. But I want to add, that’s not exclusively what we’re interested in, so we’d be happy to hear how we can make a deal with you,” he said.

  “Ah, Imbrogul gravity tech is very, very impressive. But also very, very dependent on materials we provide,” Yinzut replied.

  “Oh? What sort of materials?”

  “High purity metals, particularly metals from the lanthanide group, and certain trans-uranium elements. Especially includes stabilized form of—”

  The translator just shrugged and gave up this time, leaving Thorn hearing nothing but something reminiscent of a deep, hacking cough mixed with a wet snort. Yinzut raised a webbed hand.

  “Apologies. We provide a stabilized form of element 99, isotope 253.”

  Thorn pulled a data-pad off of this belt and did a quick query. The element of atomic weight 99 was what humans knew as Einsteinium, named after the ancient scientific pioneer. Isotope 253 was its most common version. It was a big, heavy, and unstable element, though, and it only had a half-life of about three weeks.

  Bertilak picked up on the implication. “For how long can you stabilize this element?”

  “About one hundred years. It is that process that makes Imbrogul gravity tech so good.”

  Thorn couldn’t help noting the pride in Yinzut’s voice. And rightly so. Thorn was no physicist, but even he knew that changing the half-life of a radioactive element was a big deal. As far as he knew, it just wasn’t possible. And, yet, here it was.

  They carried on talking, and the more they did, the more convinced Thorn became that they had to get friendly relations firmly established with the Astarti. Not only were they the gateway to the Imbrogul, they also had some valuable goods of their own to trade. The Astarti specialty seemed to be mining, smelting and refining metal, and they seemed to be very, very good at it. Whatever method they used to stabilize radioactive elements, to make them decay more slowly had, by itself, massive potential. And even if they didn’t want to share that and keep it proprietary, Thorn imagined that stabilized Einsteinium, or any other, similarly short-lived element would be of immense value all on its own.

  Bertilak leaned forward. “If you don’t mind us asking, do you trade with the Nyctus as well? And do the Imbrogul?”

  Thorn gave Bertilak a sharp glance. He’d been trying to figure out a way to get to that, but had planned to do it a little more discreetly. Now, though, that the question had been asked, he turned back to Yinzut to see how she answered.

  “We do some, yes. But limited. Trust is always an issue, and the Nyctus are some trustworthy, but not complete such.”

  Thorn eased out a bit of a breath at that. Yinzut had been telling the truth, which was a relief. The ON had already had to deal with one race closely aligned with the Nyctus, the Danzur, and it had been a pain in the ass right from the start. The Astarti seemed nowhere near as close, which would make dealing with them a lot easier.

  “Well, Yinzut, we would like to get to a place where you can trust us,” Thorn said.

  “Getting there,” Yinzut replied, opening her mouth, holding it, then closing it again. Thorn swept another, brief Joining across her mind, and sensed nothing amiss. Quite the opposite, in fact. Holding her mouth open seemed to be Yinzut’s way of expressing approval, or just generally being positive.

  “Good. What we’d like to accomplish is having you arrange a meeting with the Imbrogul for us, and also start talking about some specific trade deals. We’d be really interested in your stabilized heavy isotopes, for instance. Or even the process for making them.”

  “All in time. Of course, there is the matter of price.”

  Thorn nodded. There was the profit motivation. “We would certainly be prepared to pay, and handsomely.”

  This time, a sense of doubt leaked from Yinzut’s mind. She saw only Thorn the individual, and not yet Thorn the representative of an entire species. He was confident he could change that, but it would take time. And time wasn’t something he had in abundance.

  “We will certainly talk,” Yinzut finally said.

  Thorn, though, leaned forward. “I’ve got a better idea. How about a down payment, now?”

  “What do you have?”

  “Back in the first system, the one where we originally met you, I noticed that you were moving a lot of asteroids around. I assume it’s part of your ongoing mining operations.”

  “It is. An important part. It’s much more efficient to move an entire asteroid to a smelter, than to cut it apart and bring many pieces back.”

  “I’m willing to bet it’s also pretty expensive, not to mention time-consuming.”

  “Very much, but worth it.”

  “How about this? I’ll move two asteroids to wherever you want them, and I’ll do it for nothing except future consideration,” Thorn said.

  Yinzut stared. The other Astarti with her stared. Thorn waited.

  Finally, Yinzut shifted, looking uncomfortable even for a human-sized, anthropomorphic toad. “We use complex systems of thrusters and boosters and control units. I’m sure your ship is a very fine one, but I will be blunt. It does not seem up to the task.”

  As Yinzut spoke, Thorn moved his fingers to touch his talisman, secured away in its pocket inside his tunic. He drew magic through it, then reached out, shaping it with his mind and applying it as a Hammer ’casting to the lo
g supporting the moss-seats of the Astarti. Carefully, he lifted it off the ground, then held it in place about a meter up. The Astarti immediately began croaking and gurgling among themselves. The translator didn’t even try to keep up with their overlapping exclamations.

  “It has nothing to do with our ship. When I said that I will move two asteroids to wherever you want them, I really did mean me,” Thorn said, then lowered the log back to the deck.

  “That is most impress,” Yinzut said. “You already have grav tech, then, and very good.”

  “That wasn’t tech. It was magic.”

  Yinzut stared for a moment. “Nyctus do similar. But you can do this too. Well, then, we will try. See if your magic can move asteroids. However, we have a requirement, Thorn.” Her eyes suddenly gleamed with could be nothing other than mischief.

  Thorn tilted his head. “Which is?”

  “Move three, not two,” Yinzut said.

  Thorn wondered if she expected him to balk at that. He didn’t. “Done. I have a requirement as well, though.”

  “What is that, new and promising friend?” Yinzut asked. Even though she was an alien, Thorn recognized nerves when he heard them, even through a translator.

  “Once I’ve done this, and your three asteroids are where you want them to go, remember this when the Nyctus reach out to you, or aim a weapon at you.”

  Yinzut tilted her thick head to one side, mouth open to reveal her tongue in what Thorn now understood to be that attitude of agreement. “You may be sure of that, Thorn-friend.”

  16

  Tanner couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at Code Nebula. He just didn’t have much occasion to come here, since it was mainly focused on training Starcasters. And he was many things, but a Starcaster wasn’t one of them.

  Wait. A commencement ceremony. That had been the last time. Right after he’d left the heavy cruiser Achilles, where he’d been XO, and was on his way to take over the Hecate, he’d been sidetracked here by Fleet. Code Nebula needed a senior commander as Reviewing Officer for a commencement parade, and he’d been tagged to do it.

  It all came rushing back to him. It had been the last time he’d had to wear full dress blues and carry his sword. The damned thing had threatened to tangle up his legs and trip him while he’d been reviewing a rank of shiny, new Starcasters. He’d managed to avoid it, though, and had finished the review with his dignity intact.

  More or less, anyway. There had been a couple of instances of snapped profanity that had caused at least slightly raised eyebrows among the graduating candidates. Also, a sudden, terrified look from a young woman he’d been passing as he cursed. To this day, she probably wondered why the Captain inspecting her suddenly dropped a salvo of f-bombs, along with a few other letters of the alphabet, and then just walked on.

  Tanner smirked at the memory, but the humor faded as he rounded the corner of a building and started toward a blocky bunker hunkered in the middle of what had been a sports field. The ON had installed it as a secure facility for holding captured squid shamans, part of a new training regimen for Starcasters. It gave them a chance to experience a confrontation with an actual, hostile squid, but do it under controlled circumstances. The idea was to ensure that the first time they clashed with a shaman wasn’t in the midst of battle.

  Tanner had his doubts. Somebody like Stellers or Wixcombe might be able to shrug off the insidious magic of a squid shaman, but would every Starcaster? The facility should have been placed in orbit, or on some remote moon, not right here amid a throng of neophyte ’Casters.

  The guard, a heavily armed and armored military policeman, came to attention and saluted as Tanner approached. He carefully checked his ID, confirmed he was on the access list, then confirmed that Tanner wasn’t armed. Only then did he open the gate in the first fence. Tanner stepped through, waiting as the first gate closed and locked behind him, then the second gate, in an inner fence, slid open. Tanner carried on, walking up to the bunker entrance, where his ID was checked again.

  “Sorry, sir,” the MP said, shrugging. “Orders.”

  Tanner waved a hand. “No worries, Sergeant.”

  When the woman was satisfied, she called inside through an intercom. A loud buzz broke the still air, then the armored door rolled back. Tanner gave the MP a thumbs up, and carried on inside.

  “Hey, sir. Talk about security, huh?”

  Tanner stopped and turned to the speaker. He recognized the man, but had trouble placing him.

  “Damien Forester, sir,” the man said, standing. “We’ve only met via comm. I helped—”

  “Stellers, with his interrogation of Ignatius, that treacherous bastard, right.” He took Damien’s hand and shook it firmly.

  “Good to meet in person, sir,” Damien said.

  “It is. Have to ask, though, what the hell are you doing here?”

  Damien gave a sheepish grin. “It seems that the powers that be have decided that the best way I can contribute to the war effort is by helping out with interrogations.”

  “Not your field of expertise, though, is it? Aren’t you a diplomat?”

  “I sure thought so. Apparently, though, there’s a lot of similarities between influencing potentially hostile foreign powers, and influencing potentially hostile captives.”

  “But how did you end up here? I thought you were back with Wixcombe, trying to get the Danzur onside.”

  “I was on my way back to file a progress report with the Council, when I got diverted here. Someone in Fleet must have put a word in with my diplomatic bosses, and they agreed to detach me for this. Honestly, sir, I assumed it was you.”

  Tanner raised his hands in mock surrender. “Not guilty as charged. I respect your talents, but it never even would have occurred to me to have you come here.”

  “Well, sir, I guess the ON just works in mysterious ways.”

  “Always,” Tanner said, offering Damien a fleeting smile. But seeing Damien had made him think of someone else.

  “Speaking of Wixcombe, have you heard from her lately?”

  “No, sir. I did send a message to her via diplomatic comm, but she hasn’t responded yet.”

  “So she really is there, all alone.”

  “She has a couple of aides, but that’s it, yes, sir.”

  Tanner rubbed his chin. “Not a fan of leaving an ON officer hanging in the breeze like that.”

  “Kira’s more than able to look after herself, sir. And Lieutenant Stellers made it abundantly clear to the Danzur that if anything happened to her, he’d wipe them from existence. It made quite the impression on them.”

  “I’ll bet it did, especially since it’s not just an abstract threat, not coming from him.”

  Damien smiled and started to speak, but was cut off by an inner door opening into the antechamber where they’d been waiting. Commander Narvez walked through it, and saluted Tanner smartly.

  Tanner returned it. “Commander Narvez, good to see you.”

  She nodded once, her hatchet-sharp face falling, rising again, like a drill movement. “Sir.”

  “I assumed we’d just be dropping you off here, after your service—and damned good service, I might add—aboard the Hecate. But now Fleet wants us to stick around, and me to observe the interrogation of that squid we captured. Why?”

  “Protocol, sir. Fleet Intelligence requires a command-grade officer to be present during the initial interrogation of a prisoner.”

  “But why? What is my role, besides standing around and watching and trying not to get in the way?”

  This time, it was Narvez who held up her hands in surrender. “I don’t make the rules, sir. It would normally be the Base Commander, but she’s off at a meeting at Admiralty HQ. Since the Hecate still happens to be in orbit, that makes you the next choice.”

  “And what if we’d just broken orbit right away? What then? No interrogation? Or would I be turning the Hecate around?”

  “No idea, sir. That would be up to Fleet Intel.”

 
; Tanner just gave up and nodded. Narvez was right. She didn’t make the rules, so there was no point protesting them to her. Someone at Fleet had decided that this was how things had to be, so they were.

  As they made to follow Narvez back through the inner door, Damien leaned in toward Tanner. “Probably someone’s legacy, sir.”

  Tanner sniffed, then nodded. Senior officers on their way out the door for retirement typically did that. They’d change something, some obscure aspect of communications procedures, the layout of an org chart, the style of socks issued to recruits. Something, anything they could point to as their legacy, their lasting mark on the ON. In this case, it had been the protocols around interrogations. Some old fart of a Commodore or Vice Admiral had been packing up their desk, and though, hey, how can I make a lasting change to the system?

  And here Tanner was.

  He glanced at Damien. “I see that the legacy thing isn’t unique to the ON.”

  “Oh, hell no, sir. In fact, I’ve got my legacy already planned out.”

  Tanner lifted an eyebrow. “Seems to me you’re still a few years short of retirement, but I’ll bite. What’s your legacy going to be?”

  “I’m going to disallow any more legacies, because they’re usually stupid.”

  Tanner offered Damien a wry smirk. “Now I have to get you into the ON, Forester, if only for that.”

  Tanner crossed his arms and frowned down at the squid. It had been strapped down in a tank of water deep enough to immerse it completely. Cables and tubes snaked into the water from stacks of machines and pumps. Some were obviously measuring vital signs, whatever vital signs for a squid looked like. Others had more obscure purposes.