Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “Nope, never had the displeasure. While Thorn and Kira were off visiting their daughter, I took the Jolly and met up with a few old acquaintances. None of them have dealt directly with the Bilau either, but they had some suggestions for where to find those who have.”

  “So what do you think, ma’am? We’d be dealing with civilian traders and merchants, the sort of individuals that are motivated by profit, more than anything else.”

  “What’s your alternative?” Densmore asked.

  “Go poking around in Bilau space and gather evidence about them directly.”

  “Well, if this were my decision to make—and, just to be clear, it’s not, it’s entirely up to Lieutenant Stellers—I’d suggest going to talk to the traders. It’s not as dangerous and, like you said, they’re motivated by profit. That makes them pretty easy to predict.”

  “We might also learn other useful things while we’re doing it—about the Nyctus, for instance,” Damien put in.

  Thorn tapped his finger against his chin. “Okay, let’s do that. Frankly, we could snoop around Bilau space and never find anything useful. We’d be counting on getting lucky. I’d rather have too much information and have to sift through it, than none at all.”

  “There’s another reason to go mix it up with some wannabe pirates, Stellers,” Densmore said.

  “What’s that, ma’am?”

  “It’ll be a hell of a lot more fun.”

  Thorn watched as the massive, disk-shaped structure slowly expanded in the viewscreen. Called FreeFare, it was, in effect, an artificial moon, itself orbiting a moon, which orbited a ringed gas giant, which orbited a yellow-white star near the cusp of Bilau space. The rimward boundary between human and Nyctus space began not too far away. But it was a vague boundary at best, sputtering into existence in an empty void of deep space. It only finally firmed up into a real border almost ten light-years further coreward, among a cluster of contested star systems. That meant the region of space around FreeFare was unclaimed by anyone. It made it the perfect place to put a free-trading station, unencumbered by things like taxes or customs regulations.

  Or, really, any regulations at all.

  “So let me get this straight, Bertilak. One of your contacts gave you another contact, who’s located here? Do I have that right?” Damien asked.

  Bertilak fiddled with his controls, tweaking the Jolly’s course. “Pretty much. Hasgul, an Owath, says that his entire nest pod was wiped out by the Bilau. He’s pointed me at a merchant named Ugeel, who’s based here at FreeFare. Hasgul says that if anyone has dirt on the Bilau, it would be Ugeel.”

  “I’m just going to take all that as making sense,” Damien said.

  Thorn gave Bertilak a puzzled look. “Who the hell are the Owath? I don’t remember them ever coming up before.”

  “They apparently live on the far side of Bilau space, on the other side of a stellar rift. Aside from individual traders, we don’t see much of them anywhere near human space,” Bertilak replied.

  Thorn just nodded. He’d been plying space for years now, but only in the past months had he suddenly found himself face-to-face with a multitude of other races. As big as this arm of the galaxy had seemed before, learning that so much of it was inhabited just made it seem that much bigger and more complex.

  “Hey, Jolly, Gyrfalcon here,” Mol said, over the comm.

  “Go ahead, Mol,” Thorn replied.

  “I just got pinged by whatever passes for traffic control from that FreeFare station ahead of us. They don’t seem too pleased to have an ON ship entering their space.”

  Thorn drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat. They weren’t sure how the denizens and customers of FreeFare might react to the Gyrfalcon, an ON vessel clearly emblazoned with ON insignia. They weren’t even sure if they’d react to it. Apparently, though, they had.

  “Put them through to me, Mol,” Thorn finally said.

  “Will do. Wait one.”

  A moment passed, then a new voice came on the comm. There was no imagery with it, so Thorn could only infer what the speaker probably looked like. If he actually looked the way he sounded, then he was probably a robot tossed into a metal shredder.

  “Why are you here, ON?”

  “Business,” Thorn replied.

  “What business?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “We don’t like having military here.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “And we think you should leave.”

  Thorn smiled. “Okay. We’ll leave. We’ll be heading straight back to Allied Stars space, where I’ll report back to the Admiral who sent us on this mission that you refused us docking rights. I’ll then recommend to him that the ON declare an embargo against any human traffic or trade to FreeFare. Oh, and since refusing us docking makes it look like you have something to hide, then I’ll also recommend we deploy some cutters and frigates to patrol neutral space out here.” Thorn grimaced, then brightened, as if he’d just found the answer to a sticky issue. “Oh, this is all neutral space, isn’t it? Well, in that case, I guess the ON will be stopping and searching ships traveling to and from FreeFare to make sure they aren’t carrying any illegal weapons, contraband—”

  “Alright, alright. Don’t get your shit into a knot. You can dock at ports twenty-seven A and B. We’re transmitting docking parameters now. Oh, and docking fees are payable in advance.”

  Thorn glanced at Bertilak. “And probably two or three times the regular rate.”

  Bertilak smirked back. “Two or three? I’d say five times, at least.”

  Thorn grinned, then switched back to the comm. “Thank you, FreeFare traffic, you’ve been most helpful.”

  “Huh.”

  “Well done, Stellers,” Densmore said from where she’d been lounging at the back of the Jolly’s bridge. “You sound like you’ve done that before.”

  “More like I know the type. Remember, ma’am, I had a whole life before I joined the ON. I mixed it up with some pretty sketchy types.”

  Damien laughed. “I said it before, Thorn, and I’ll say it again. You should be a diplomat. You’re an absolute natural.”

  The Gyrfalcon and Jolly closed on their assigned docking ports. The FreeFare traffic control system requested remote access, so their automation could guide the ships in on their final approach, but Thorn and Mol both refused. ON policy precluded it. It led to an admonishment from FreeFare that doing so waived any responsibility for damage to their ships, while holding them fully accountable for any corresponding damage to the station. But Mol and Bertilak were skillful enough pilots that, a few minutes later, both ships were snugged into their berths, airlocks pressurizing.

  Alix appeared as they waited for the pressure to equalize, wearing stripped-down battle rattle—just her tactical vest and fatigues. “So what’s the plan, ma’am?” she asked Densmore.

  Densmore, in turn, gestured to Thorn. “Lieutenant Stellers is the boss. I’m just along as an SME.”

  Alix glanced from one to the other, then shrugged. As long as she had a chain of command to follow, she obviously didn’t care who was in it. “Okay, sir, over to you. What’s the plan?”

  “I think we’ll leave your people here aboard the Jolly for now. I can’t imagine things going so badly sideways here, on FreeFare, that we’d need a Tiger Team to get us out of it. But stay by your comm.”

  “Lounge around in these plush quarters and wait for a call? I think we can manage that,” Alix said, giving a thumbs up.

  “As for the rest of us, let’s go find Ugeel and see if we can start getting some answers,” Thorn said, then he opened the Jolly’s airlock when the pressure finally equalized.

  “To what questions, exactly?” Densmore asked, giving him a sly smile.

  “Which questions we have to ask is the very question we need to answer,” Thorn said, grinning back at her.

  “You’re a complicated man, Stellers.”

  “I try, ma’am.”

  Joined by
Mol and Kira, they made their way along a broad concourse bustling with activity. Autonomous tractors rolled along on balloon tires, warning lights flashing and chimes sounding. Some carried cargo, and others passengers. Crowds of what were probably ships’ crews ambled and milled about, or else strode purposefully along on business of their own. Thorn saw some humans, but also Astarti, Philomek, Danzur, and a few aliens he didn’t recognize. Thorn and the others had little trouble finding a path among them. As soon as the crowd recognized the insignia on the ON uniforms, they tended to immediately look elsewhere and give way.

  “Seems like all of these folks have a guilty conscience,” Mol said. “At least, that’s the vibe I’m getting.”

  “You’re not the only one, believe me,” Damien replied.

  “We’re authority figures to them, and not in a good way,” Densmore said.

  Kira sniffed. “Hey, they want to stay out of our way? Works for me.”

  They carried on. From kiosks and trading stands set up along both sides of the concourse, merchants vended food and drink, and hawked all sorts of goods and wares. Most of it struck Thorn as obvious junk, but a few items caught his eye. He particularly took note of a trader selling jewelry, including rings, bracelets, necklaces, and brooches, all made of some mirror-bright metal set with ruby-red stones. Rubies were Kira’s favorite stone, so before he left, he needed to pick something out for her. But he’d have to do it when she wasn’t around. He needed to get something for Morgan, too—

  Thorn stopped, suddenly marveling at himself. He’d not only come to think of himself, Kira, and Morgan as a family, but the idea had become natural to him. Thorn Stellers, family man, father—partner. A reliable man, now. When the hell had that happened?

  “Thorn, are you okay?” Kira asked, concern etched on her face.

  “What? Oh, sorry, yeah. I just had one of those moments when you realize something about yourself.”

  Mol glanced around at the seedy commotion all around them. “You had a moment of self-discovery here?”

  “Did it have anything to do with those prostitutes over there?” Damien asked. “Pretty sure they’re all registered guild members.”

  Thorn shook his head but then smiled. “A guild? Really?”

  “Sure. Legit business, with rules, regs, even a retirement plan,” Damien said.

  “How the hell do you know all that?” Thorn asked him, mildly bewildered.

  Damien pointed to his face and hair. “If the spy thing didn’t work out, you think I’d waste these looks?”

  “A fair point,” Thorn said gravely.

  “He does have great hair,” Kira said.

  “Easy, don’t want him getting more—you know. More Damien,” Thorn said, and Damien snorted in laughter. “Okay, let’s move. Captain Handsome can primp later.”

  “Got it,” Damien said, grinning. They moved on along the concourse.

  Bertilak’s contact had said that Ugeel, the merchant they were seeking, sold garments out of an actual storefront on the upper concourse level of FreeFare. It took them a while just to find a way out of what was apparently the lower concourse, and then a further while to track down Ugeel’s shop. They arrived just as Ugeel, a Danzur, seemed to be closing up.

  “Are you Ugeel?” Thorn asked as the Danzur grabbed a strap and started to yank down a rolling gate.

  “I am, and I’m closed for the day.”

  “We’re hoping you’ll stay open for us.”

  “Nope. I’ve had a long day, and—”

  “Hasgul sent us,” Bertilak said, cutting him off.

  The Danzur finally turned and actually looked at Thorn and his companions. “Hmm. Humans. And whatever you are,” he said to Bertilak. “And Orbital Navy, too. Okay, this sounds too interesting to pass up.”

  Ugeel rolled the gate back up and gestured for them to enter his shop. He closed the door behind them, though, and locked it.

  “When Hasgul sends people to me, it’s because they want information. And information always has a price,” Ugeel said, slipping in behind his counter.

  “Everything has a price,” Thorn said, taking in Ugeel’s merchandise. The Danzur seemed to sell a complete range of apparel, from basic work coveralls to much more elaborate and formal outfits. “The question is whether it’s worth paying,” he went on, feeling the smooth texture of a pair of trousers.

  “And that depends on what information you’re seeking,” Ugeel replied.

  Thorn smiled at the Danzur. The little alien seemed completely unfazed by the arrival of ON officers in his shop, suggesting that he was probably more than just a tailor and cutter.

  “We’d like to know about the Bilau,” Thorn said.

  “Okay. What would you like to know about them? Where their space is? Their command hierarchy? How they reproduce? Knowing about them is pretty broad.”

  Densmore stepped forward. “We think they’re a serious threat to the ON. Others don’t necessarily see it that way. So we’re looking for information that will tell us, one way or the other. And how much is this scarf? I have an outfit it’s perfect for.”

  Thorn shot a glance at Densmore. He hadn’t taken her for the stylish sort.

  “Oh, they’re a serious threat alright. You might notice a complete absence of Bilau from FreeFare. There’s a reason for that.”

  “Which is?” Damien asked.

  “Because they’re banned from here.”

  Thorn narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  Ugeel looked at Densmore. “The scarf is four credits. Further information about the Bilau is—more than four credits.”

  “Ugeel, what else do you sell? What do you have in your back room?” Bertilak abruptly asked.

  The Danzur blinked at him. “Just stock. What do you expect me to have back there?”

  “Stock. But I’m sure it’s more than just jackets, trousers, and socks.”

  “I fully adhere to the Trade Practices Code of FreeFare—”

  “I’m sure you do. I wouldn’t suggest otherwise. But the Trade Practices Code of FreeFare really doesn't preclude you from doing pretty much whatever you want, now do they? They really just say that FreeFare gets its cut.”

  Ugeel stared at them for a moment in thought. Finally, he shrugged. “If this was an ON sting, you probably wouldn’t be wearing ON uniforms.”

  “Not to mention that the ON has better things to do than run sting operations against some FreeFare merchant,” Kira said. “Excuse me, a hardworking, honest FreeFare merchant.”

  Ugeel hesitated a moment longer, then grinned. “My lady. And... the rest of you. Follow me.” He took them into the back of his shop, where the rest of his stock was on discreet display.

  “Body armor,” Mol said, her tone reverent.

  Thorn nodded. He saw tactical vests, blast jackets, kinetic breastplates, alloy-composite pauldrons, everything someone expecting to be shot at could possibly desire. Ugeel let them gawk for a moment, then led them to the very back of the shop, where more ordinary clothing hung on mannequins representing a range of species.

  “This just looks like more of the stuff you have out front,” Damien said.

  “Nice quality but, yeah, just more trousers and stuff,” Mol put in, brushing her hand along the breast of a jacket. “Ooh, velvety.”

  Ugeel made a snarling sound Thorn had learned was Danzur laughter. “They look like it but aren’t. These all have a layer of ballistic-shock weave incorporated. So they’re supple and flexible like ordinary clothing, until they’re impacted by a blow, or shrapnel, or other solid projectiles. Then they instantly go rigid and become virtually impenetrable. It’s only an instantaneous effect, though, so as soon as the energy input stops, it goes back to being ordinary cloth.”

  Thorn took one leg of a pair of trousers between his fingers, rubbed it, then turned back to Ugeel. “I’d like sets of military-grade body armor that incorporate this ballistic shock-weave stuff for myself and all of my companions, except Bertilak here. I’m going to send another half-do
zen humans here when we get back to our ships so you can outfit them, too.”

  Densmore leaned in toward him, her face taut with a puzzled scowl. “You’re planning on buying body armor from him? Why?”

  “Well, first, I think that given such a large purchase, Ugeel here will be more than happy to answer just about any question we’ve got.”

  The Danzur bobbed his head in an eager nod. “But of course.”

  “Besides, we’ve fought most of this war in space. That won’t always be the case, though. We might very well end up fighting the Bilau on their worlds, I think.”

  “A land war? Not very appealing. Those can get damned nasty,” Densmore said.

  “Land and sea. But in a gravity well, yes. And we’ll do it in places that aren’t our home turf. I’ve been giving this some thought lately. We’re going to need Fleet to understand that orbital bombardments can only destroy, not hold ground. We should have learned that from our own history,” Thorn said, thinking of Cotswold, of things that would likely never exist again.

  Kira moved in beside him and touched his arm. He glanced at her and gave a sad smile. He knew there were those out there wondering why, if he could bring Nebo back from oblivion, he couldn’t do the same with any world attacked by the squids. Or, for that matter, bring back anyone who died in the war. The fact was, he probably could. But he wouldn’t. The universe wasn’t meant to be rebooted and overwritten that way. The potential for profound harm far outweighed whatever benefits it might bring.

  Nebo had been enough. Yes, bringing it back had also brought back their daughter. But there were limits, even for Thorn. Cotswold would remain dead.

  “Anyway, good body armor is going to be important, I think,” Thorn finally went on. He turned to Ugeel. “How long do you need to get us kitted out?”

  The Danzur looked from him, to Kira, to the others, a mental calculation narrowing his eyes each time. “I can fit all of you in a day,” he finally said.

  Thorn leaned close to the Danzur. “Okay, so do you have any suggestions about what to do for a day here at FreeFare? Something useful that could occupy our time?”