by J. N. Chaney
They followed Tocci up a ramp and into a geodesic dome. There were doors, but they stood open. Still, as soon as they stepped through the entrance, the wind died as though closed off by a solid wall. Warm air flooded around Thorn, and he unfastened his jacket, letting it penetrate inside his environment suit.
“Unfortunately, our defensive systems weren’t fully online when the attack occurred,” Tocci said, gesturing for them to follow her. “We’re very fortunate that you weren’t far away.”
“We were on our way here, actually, on a goodwill visit,” Kira said.
“I am aware. Even so, we didn’t expect you to arrive for at least another full day.”
“When we received your distress call, I kind of, ah, hurried things along,” Thorn said.
Tocci looked at him, and the mint smell returned. “You used the phenomenon you call magic. Ondric said you were capable of quite impressive feats with it. I understand you actually moved several rather large asteroids for the Astarti.”
Thorn offered a self-deprecating shrug. “We have an entire Starcaster Corps in the ON. I’m just one of many.”
“If that is the case, then your ON is to be greatly feared.”
“Only by our enemies,” Thorn replied.
Tocci smiled again and smelled the amused smell of fresh rain.
The dome wasn’t itself a building; instead, it enclosed three smaller, boxy ones. The Imbrogul already had grass and trees planted among them, mimicking the lush forests on their home planet. The greenery stood in stark contrast to the frozen world just outside the dome.
It apparently caught Kira as well. “You guys have already started planting trees and things? Usually, that’s pretty far down the to-do list for an ON facility.”
Tocci smiled as she pulled off her mask and lowered her hood. “Imbrogul very quickly become uncomfortable if we are denied the presence of greenery. It’s in our nature to establish vegetation as soon as we can.” Her smile widened, and she smelled of ozone, and drizzle, and fresh breezes.
That was amusement, Thorn thought.
“So, for us, planting trees and things is very near the top of our to-do list,” Tocci said.
Her good humor didn’t last, though. She led them into one of the interior buildings, along a corridor, then to a control room lined with view screens. She spoke to one of the Imbrogul who was already there, operating a console.
“Please retrieve the imagery I asked you to set aside,” she said.
The other Imbrogul complied, calling up a video playback on one of the view screens.
“I thought it would be useful for you to see this,” Tocci said.
As Thorn and Kira watched, the image lit up with a view of a ship that was grounded on the ice. There were towering mountains in the background, which meant this wasn’t near the outpost.
“We had a ship on a routine supply run develop a serious problem with its stabilizers as it entered the planet’s atmosphere. The pilot was forced to land almost one hundred kilometers to the east of this installation. This imagery was captured by a ship dispatched from here, with a technical crew on board to assist with repairs.”
Several Imbrogul appeared in the frame, walking away from the camera, toward the disabled ship. They’d almost reached it when they stopped as one and looked up.
“Acoustic sensors recorded the passage of a sonic shockwave, which is what has commanded the technical crews’ attention. You will note that, in a moment, they will continue toward the disabled freighter. We believe that they thought it was one of our ships, passing overhead on its way to this base.” Tocci looked at Thorn and Kira. “It was not.”
Tocci spoke to the Imbrogul tech operating the playback, telling him to skip forward to a particular time index. He did, and the video showed the arrival of a third ship. It was an entirely different design than the streamlined Imbrogul ships. This was chunky, even somewhat awkward looking, its hull all planes and angles.
“I’ve seen a ship like that before,” Thorn said.
Kira glanced at him. “Where?”
“Sitting on a landing pad in a swamp, right before we rescued Morgan.” He glared at the image. “It’s the Bilau.”
The newly arrived ship spun about and dropped a ramp as it settled down. Squat, armored figures poured out and immediately swarmed toward the disabled freighter. They broke their way into it, and then the image went still for a few moments.
“We have no record of what occurred inside the freighter,” Tocci said.
It didn’t matter. Thorn knew exactly what had happened. Carnage.
About five minutes after entering, the Bilau piled back out of the Imbrogul ship. Thorn saw that they dragged several Imbrogul with them. They hustled them up the ramp, into their ship, which then lifted and vanished from the image.
“Six minutes after this, another Bilau ship enters the atmosphere and releases the fighters that attacked this outpost. On their way here, they destroyed both of these ships.”
Kira grimaced. “Very thorough of them.”
Thorn had to open fists he hadn’t even realized he’d made. Whatever else these Bilau might be, they were clearly vicious, warmongering assholes. They seemed entirely indiscriminate in their attacks, having apparently waged a campaign even against the Nyctus. They’d gone so far as to essentially exterminate the squid population of two entire planets, then terraformed them into swamp worlds. They were, Thorn thought, either a dangerous powerful race, or a suicidally foolish one.
Maybe both.
“The first Bilau ship, the one that captured our people, left the system a little more than an hour before you arrived. The second ship, the one that carried the fighters, likewise lifted and fled as soon as you entered the system,” Tocci said.
Kira crossed her arms. “So they didn’t even bother recovering their fighters? That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t. It means that they seem to have as little regard for their own lives as they do for anyone else’s,” Thorn said, his fists wanting to clench themselves again.
He thought about the last Bilau fighter, the one that had attacked the Jolly while they were trying to rescue the downed ON fighter pilot. Thorn had assumed it would strafe Bertilak’s ship, then pull up. But now he didn’t think so. That Bilau pilot knew he was already effectively dead and meant to take someone else with him.
Great. Dangerous and suicidal.
Thorn tapped his comm. “Bertilak, there’s a Bilau ship that left here about—oh, let’s say two hours before we arrived. Do you think the Jolly can catch up to it?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Thorn said, then turned back to Tocci. “I hate to be that guy who helps save the day and then runs, but we’re going to try and get your people back.”
Tocci positively reeked of mint. “Ondric was right. You are a friend to the Imbrogul. Go, add this new verse to your Song.”
Thorn nodded and headed for the exit, to return to Bertilak’s ship. As he pulled his hood back up and made to fasten his facemask back into place, Kira gave him a puzzled look.
“Add this new verse to your Song? What does that mean?”
Thorn smiled back at her. “It’s an Imbrogul thing. I’ll tell you all about it while we run these Bilau bastards down.”
2
Thorn leaned back in the Jolly’s copilot’s seat. “So that’s the rundown, sir. We’ve initiated a pursuit of the Bilau ship, but Lieutenant Commander Wixcombe thought we should get clearance to leave ON or Imbrogul space to chase it.”
Tanner steepled his fingers and leaned closer to the viewscreen. “Your estimate on how long it’s going to take you to catch these bastards?”
“Without the Viper in company, we figure it’ll take the Jolly about four hours, sir.”
Thorn saw Tanner turning something over in his mind, then punching at the console on his command chair. This should be a no-brainer, but there was obviously something else going on. Thorn just waited. No good
ever came of trying to push Tanner or hurry him along. “Tanner time” was a thing aboard the Hecate, defined as the exact amount of time required to do something, no more, no less.
Kira leaned toward Thorn. “If we don’t get clearance to do this, then what? Do we go back to Tocci with the bad news or let someone else tell her?”
Thorn sighed. “No, I’ll tell her—”
“That the pursuit’s going to continue,” Tanner cut in.
“Sir?”
“I want you to run these Bilau assholes down. And I can even arrange some help for you to do it. By a lucky coincidence, Specialist Wyant just did a personnel run to the frigate Angkor Wat, which is patrolling just anti-spinward of your current course. If we can get them redirected sometime in the next ten minutes or so, they should be able to catch up with the Bilau not long after you do,” Tanner said.
Thorn blinked. He’d been expecting a denial, even if a reluctant one, not reinforcements. And one of them would be Mol. “Oh. Okay, sir. Sure not going to say no to that.”
“The Angkor Wat’s under the command of Demaris Popescu. Report to her ASAP, fill her in on the details, and then take your orders from her. We’re bringing the Hecate to the Imbrogul outpost to marry up with the Viper. We’ll keep station there and give the Imbrogul some cover while they get their defenses online.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Hecate out.”
Thorn puffed out a breath. “Okay, Bertilak, you heard the man. Pour it on.”
Bertilak grinned. “Already have.” In response to Thorn’s raised eyebrow, he gave an offhanded shrug.
“I’ve gotten to know Captain Tanner well enough to know he wasn’t going to say no to chasing some bad guys,” Bertilak said.
“Thorn, we could probably speed this up if you just, you know, go ahead and move us closer to the Bilau,” Kira said.
Thorn crossed his arms and sighed again. “I thought about that. But it seems to me that we don’t want to run down these Bilau too soon.”
Kira gave a slow nod. “So we can find out where they’re going.”
“Exactly.”
“So it means we’ve got a few hours to kill.”
Thorn lifted his eyebrows suggestively. Kira blew him a slow kiss.
Bertilak groaned. “Would you two get a room? It’s not like there’s any shortage of them here on the Jolly.”
“Jolly, this is the Angkor Wat,” a quick, clipped voice said over the comm. Bertilak touched a control, and a window popped open on the viewscreen. It held the image of a short, intense woman with black hair and eyes the color of steel.
“Jolly here, ma’am. Lieutenant Commander Kira Wixcombe at your service.”
“Roger that, Wixcombe. Demaris Popescu, master of the Angkor Wat. So what’s your SITREP?”
Thorn stayed silent as Kira briefed Popescu on the details of the Bilau attack. In rapid-fire discussion, information flew between the officers, letting Thorn simply observe.
“How did the engagement end?” Popescu asked. Her questions were crisp and direct, fitting the competent air she wore with ease.
“With a chase, and the Imbrogul recovering, but not without revealing some critical details about the Bilau,” Kira said, her voice rich with disgust.
Popescu arched a brow, inviting detail.
“They’ll attack anyone at any time. The concept of giving quarter is beyond them. They’re vicious, acquisitive, and warlike to a fault, and that’s their good qualities, from what I can see.”
Thorn watched Popescu sidelong, gauging her reactions and general tone. Tanner tended to be the bar by which he judged other Captains. The Hecate’s master was, as far as Thorn was concerned, just about a perfect mix of aggression and caution. Of weighing, and then either accepting or rejecting his subordinate’s advice. He’d met captains who varied from that in both directions, ranging from egotistical assholes to timid pushovers.
Popescu gave him more of a Tanner vibe. She came across as tough and determined but also fair and open. She sealed the deal when Kira had finished her SITREP with a wave of anger.
“Suggestions?” she asked.
She was definitely more of a Tanner.
Kira spoke up. “Ma’am, we’re probably crossing into what the Bilau consider their space. How much fight are we prepared to give?”
“You have Stellers with you, don’t you?”
“Right here, ma’am,” Thorn said.
“We only met once, Stellers, and then only for the briefest moment. I was in the Ops Center at Code Gauntlet when that squid rock was thundering toward us. I congratulated you on the well-earned medal you received for that.”
“I wish I could say I remember you, ma’am.”
Popescu smiled. It was like a light switched on, then switched off again. “Understood. Ordinarily, I’d be really wary about violating a border with a force comprising a single frigate, a lone Gyrfalcon, and an alien auxiliary ship. What I need from you is an assurance that you can get us out of trouble faster than we might get ourselves into it.”
“Nothing’s guaranteed, ma’am. But I expect I could haul our asses out of there if needed,” Thorn replied.
“Good enough for me. We’ll rendezvous in thirty minutes at a waypoint my Nav O is sending you. From there, we’ll run straight in toward what seems to be our quarry’s destination, that next system, dead ahead.”
They acknowledged and signed off. Kira looked at Thorn, a wry smile playing on her face.
“You’re famous,” she said.
Thorn stretched out his legs and let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
“That doesn’t seem to please you, my friend,” Bertilak put in.
Thorn rubbed his eyes. “It doesn’t. Fame just means people expect more from you.”
“Then stop being such a damned good Starcaster,” Kira offered.
“As soon as this war’s done, I think I’ll do just that. It’d be nice to just be, you know, a regular guy for a change.”
“That ship has sailed, dear,” Kira said, but her tone was gentle.
Thorn smiled, but he looked tired doing so. “Promise me we can try?”
“Done,” Kira said, and Thorn believed her.
“What the hell is that?” Popescu asked.
“No idea, ma’am. Just a big-ass ship,” Thorn replied, studying the image on the viewscreen.
The Bilau ship they’d been chasing had decelerated to rendezvous with whatever it was—a massive, lumbering ship in a wide, slow orbit around the unremarkable star. Their scans suggested a multitude of point-defense batteries but no heavier armament. The only other ships present were more of the nimble little Bilau fighters, which had begun forming up into a pair of wedge formations as soon the Jolly, Angkor Wat, and Gyrfalcon had entered the system.
“Careful about those fighters. They pack a hell of a punch,” Kira put in.
“Roger that. Okay, straight in. Gyrfalcon, you’re free to maneuver at your discretion. Jolly, keep station within a thousand klicks of the Ankgor Wat and cover our butts. We’ll lead the way, straight in. All ships, weapons-free now.”
Mol acknowledged. So did Kira. All three ships accelerated. Mol immediately broke formation and climbed above the system’s ecliptic plane to spread out the Bilau’s attention.
A few seconds later, the Angkor Wat loosed a volley of missiles. Mol did the same, a pair of missiles streaking away from the Gyrfalcon. Bertilak’s ship only mounted the exotic energy weapons—the ones that fired pulses of green plasma. ON techs had examined them, hoping to replicate them, but Thorn knew they were wasting their time. They were creations of, and powered by, magic.
Tech had nothing to do with it.
The Bilau fighters raced in, their attack run unwavering. They were brave—Thorn had to give them that. Some broke off to engage the oncoming missiles. Four more detached themselves and raced after the Gyrfalcon. The rest just bored in, accelerating as hard as they could.
“Kira, can you help Mol out? I’m going to see
what I can do about those guys coming straight at us,” Thorn said.
“On it,” Kira replied.
Thorn picked out one fighter and crafted magic into a Scorch ’casting, a furious blast of flame like a cutting torch. He directed it against the cockpit, slashing it open. It flashed through the thin armor and structural members beneath. The fighter drove on for a moment, then snapped into two tumbling chunks of debris. Another unfortunate Bilau fighter got in the way of the spinning drive section and wasn’t able to jink fast enough. They collided with a flash and spectacular fan of debris.
Thorn let the magic dissipate, then refocused himself on the larger battle. One of the fighters racing to intercept Mol had latched onto his wingman’s tail, and was now pumping plasma bolts into his confused target. Thorn glanced at Kira and saw her concentrating. He smiled, since she seemed to have this well in-hand, and returned to the rest of the battle.
The Bilau made their plan clear and forged ahead with maniacal devotion—and futility. Their fighters broke off, circled back, and began a strafing run along the port side of the Angkor Wat at speeds that would render most weapons useless.
But Popescu’s gunners were ready.
With brutal efficiency, the close-fire skill of the Angkor Wat filled space with lethal rounds. The first two Bilau fighters were torn apart in a blaze of plasma, their hulls reduced to hot gas in the blink of an eye. A third Bilau braked hard and rolled across the Jolly’s path, only to vanish in a green blur of killing energy. As a fourth and fifth Bilau tried to break off for a final attack, railgun rounds flickered across the distance, each rod tearing into the enemy ship like the hand of a vengeful deity. One Bilau managed to dodge the railgun, only to meet a particle cannon shot at less than a klick, leaving no debris larger than a centimeter in size.
In less than three minutes, it was over. Aside from a few plasma hits on the Angkor Wat, the ON ships avoided significant damage. The Bilau, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. The combined firepower of the three ships, a coordinated barrage of missiles, railguns, particle cannons, and plasma shots quickly overwhelmed and shredded the Bilau fighters, destroying all of them.