Starcaster Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “Me too,” Trixie chimed in. “Totes.”

  “Totes?” Thorn asked.

  “She’s channeling something called Millennial Speech. Just go with it,” Mol said with a patient air.

  “Noted.” Thorn inclined his head politely, deciding that Trixie was, in fact, recovering some of her earlier quirks.

  To switch things up, they’d changed places, Kira traveling with Densmore aboard the Jolly. Kira hadn’t been happy about it, but Thorn pointed out that she couldn’t complain. He’d traveled with Densmore all the way to FreeFare, so it gave him a moment of vicious glee to say, “Tag. Your turn.”

  “At least you had Damien aboard to distract her. It’s going to be just her, Bertilak, and me.”

  “And Alix, and the rest of Tiger Team 3, minus Toff and Merrill. They’re damned good people.”

  “They are. And they work for Densmore, and guess what? They hide in the back of the Jolly so they don’t have to spend time with her, either.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Thorn said with a magnanimous wave, then turned and walked off toward the Gyrfalcon’s docking port, whistling a lively tune.

  They’d reached the near edge of The Ghosts not long after departing FreeFare. A particularly dusty nebula, one arm of The Ghosts started less than a light-year away from FreeFare and extended for dozens more light-years spinward and coreward. It offered the advantage of a discreet approach to within a short hop of the station, meaning ships could approach and depart FreeFare mostly without being detected. It had the further benefit of roughly connecting five rich star systems, three Danzur and two independent, and a couple of minor systems. That’s why it was such a massive blow to FreeFare that The Ghosts had swung so suddenly and decisively from discreet and safe, to exposed and dangerous.

  Mol frowned over her instruments. “Uh, sir, all this dust, is it a reason to worry about the squids? Scanners are already degraded, and we’re not even inside The Ghosts yet. And the squids were using their mojo to pile even more dust on ships’ sensor inputs.”

  Thorn shook his head. “I doubt it would have any effect on the Jolly at all. Bertilak’s scanners are basically magical anyway. And as for the Gyrfalcon, well, you got me aboard. I think I can handle it.”

  It was a good point, though. All they knew was that The Ghosts were a hazardous place, with ships subject to attack by someone. If that someone was the Nyctus, then the dust might be an issue.

  Except Thorn didn’t think it was the squids. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but somehow, this just didn’t feel like something the squids would do.

  “Okay, we’re just starting to pick up something at long range. It’s from that nearest G-class star just off to starboard of our current course,” Mol said.

  Thorn consulted an updated regional star chart they’d purchased on FreeFare. “That’s the Owath outpost we heard about. You know, the one that the Owath have apparently pretty much given up on because of attacks on shipping inside The Ghosts.”

  “Gotcha. Want to check it out?” Mol asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s. Gives us a starting place, anyway, since it’s kind of the gateway into The Ghosts.”

  The Owath had rather cleverly established their outpost, called Portal, in the nearest habitable star system to FreeFare, that was also mostly outside of The Ghosts proper. It gave them a lock on traffic entering or leaving the nebula, letting them claim customs tariffs over ships and goods transiting the space they’d claimed. In return, they provided a safe haven to ships that had just finished the difficult journey through The Ghosts, including rest, recreation, refueling, and repairs—the four Rs of spaceflight. It had worked out just fine, until whatever force was prowling the nebula and attacking shipping also started hit-and-run raids on the outpost.

  After just a few months of that, the Owath had given up. Portal had just proven too difficult to defend from raiders that would appear suddenly out of the voluminous dust and gas, strike, and then immediately flee back into the nebula and vanish again. Thorn wasn’t really sure what they might learn, if anything, from the abandoned outpost. But if they were going to enter The Ghosts, they needed to do it somewhere, and that seemed as good a place as any.

  Mol clicked her tongue. “Got some more hard scanner returns coming in. Trixie, can you clean those up and ID them?”

  “That’s wreckage. Debris. Chunks of spaceships. Big Yikes. Doesn’t make this place seem any more welcoming, does it?” Trixie replied.

  “No, it does not. Can you identify whose spaceships they were, Trix?” Thorn asked.

  “Judging from the lack of anything I recognize as armor, I’d say you’re probably looking at the wreckage of about a half-dozen commercial vessels, freighters, that sort of thing. Closer in toward that old outpost, there are a few things that probably are the remains of military ships.”

  “Probably what’s left of whatever Owath ships they based here to try and protect Portal,” Mol suggested, and Thorn nodded.

  “Okay, let’s head to the Portal system. From there, we’ll push on into The Ghosts,” he replied.

  “Into The Ghosts and the unknown,” Trixie said, drawing out the unknown into a long, spooky tone, and ending on a theatrically fiendish laugh. “11/10 do not want.”

  Thorn looked confused, then Mol shrugged, helpless in the face of such anachronistic speech.

  Thorn responded the only way he could. “Millennials.”

  As they made a pass by the planet that hosted Portal, Thorn swept his magically infused attention over it, trying to discern if there was anyone or anything alive on the surface. Kira did the same, but neither were able to detect any signs of life at all.

  And as for the orbital platform that had served to dock ships so they didn’t have to enter the atmosphere to land, Thorn only had to take in the gaping rents, scorched blast marks, and shattered sections of hull to know there was nothing and no one left there, either.

  He activated the comm, so Bertilak and Kira could hear him. “Okay, Mol, there isn’t much reason to stick around here. Let’s move on, into The Ghosts.”

  “So, from creepy and abandoned derelicts to an even creepier and likely dangerous nebula? I can hardly wait!”

  “Bertilak, did you guys copy that?” Thorn asked.

  “We did indeed. You want me to lead the way into The Ghosts? The Jolly’s not as likely to be affected by all that dust and crap.”

  “No, we’ll lead. We’re kind of stuck traveling at the Gyrfalcon’s best speed because its scanners aren’t magically enhanced. I’d hate to lose contact with you guys,” Thorn replied.

  “Roger that. Taking up station about a thousand klicks behind you.”

  “Sounds good,” Thorn said, but he was already casting his attention forward, focusing on the thickening spray of dust and gas now filling most of the forward viewer.

  “Have to admit, it is kind of pretty,” Trixie said.

  Thorn couldn’t disagree. The Ghosts had a solidity to it that belied its ephemeral nature. It really was nothing more than an enormous plume of dust, gas, and other debris, the remnants of one or more ancient supernova explosions. The plume had expanded over the past few million years, swallowing other star systems that now shone inside it, lighting it from within. It supposedly got its name from the fact that ships could ghost their way through it. But Trixie had pointed out there was an even older possible origin to the sinister name.

  “Because it’s full of ghosts, as in, haunted by the spirits of the dead. Not sure where that one came from, but it stuck. That’s even a notation in the ON star charts for this region,” she’d said.

  Mol blew a raspberry. “Spirits of the dead my ass.”

  “Thorn can move whole fleets with the power of his mind. He brought his own daughter, not to mention a whole planet full of people, back from the dead,” Trixie replied, her voice smugly matter-of-fact. “Also, your denial is so typical for an Earth sign. You’re giving off real Capricorn energy right now.”

  Mol rolled her eyes so
hard they almost fluttered. “Astrology.”

  “I—never mind,” Thorn said then tilted his head in utter confusion. “Millennial again?”

  “Sort of,” Mol answered, then sniffed. “But that nickname doesn’t mean anything. Ghosts aren’t real.”

  “Whatever,” Trixie said, closing the argument with a huff.

  They flew on in a series of Alcubierre hops, stopping every half light-year or so to scan the dusty space around them. After the third, Mol grimaced at her tactical display.

  “Scanner resolution down by forty-two percent. That’s pretty bad,” she said.

  Thorn drummed his fingers on the arm of his crash couch, then sighed. “Okay, Bertilak, I take it back. You should go ahead. You’re less likely to be taken by surprise, and besides, you can scan normal space through your Alcubierre bubble.”

  Bertilak acknowledged. As the Jolly swept past the Gyrfalcon, into the lead position, Mol sniffed. “Wish we could do that. That would so change the whole space-battle thing.”

  “Yeah, well, his scanners aren’t even actually tech. They’re—”

  “Magic. Yeah, I know. But that means you should be able to do it, right? With your mojo?”

  “Except I can’t. When I’m inside an Alcubierre bubble, that’s the whole universe, as far as I’m able to tell,” Thorn replied.

  “So ask your daughter how she did it.”

  “I have, and she doesn’t know, or remember. It might be because she never even imagined it was impossible that she was able to make it possible—”

  “Thorn, we’ve got ships up ahead,” Bertilak cut in.

  “Where? How many?”

  “Sending the data now. I’m making it three, maybe? No, wait, four. No, five.”

  “Thorn, there’s a whole squadron of ships ahead of us, closing fast,” Trixie called out.

  Thorn watched as the Gyrfalcon’s tactical system repeated the data Bertilak had sent. That little trick was tech, in the form of a data link installed in the Jolly by the ON. It only interfaced with Bertilak’s systems because Thorn had cheated and simply made it work that way. He judged the relatively minor change to reality was justified by the Jolly being able to share data with other ON ships.

  And it was. Right now, it showed a growing number of ships ahead—a dozen and counting. They were visible only by their drive signatures, fusion plumes burning at full power. That struck Thorn as odd. Standard tactics, as practiced by both the ON and the Nyctus, generally had drives kept at more subdued power levels until battle was actually joined. It saved helium-3 fuel but, more importantly, made ships harder to detect at longer ranges.

  “Whoever these guys are, they’re in one heluva hurry,” Mol said, narrowing her eyes at the tactical display.

  “Yeah, and I think we should be, too,” Thorn replied. He tapped the comm.

  “Bertilak, let’s do an about-face and pull out of here. Our ships are good, and you and Mol are terrific pilots, but those are shitty odds. I don’t like it.”

  “No argument here. Coming about now,” Bertilak said.

  The Jolly wheeled around, the Gyrfalcon hard on her tail. Both flung themselves into Alcubierre hops, only dropping back into normal space when they were clear of The Ghosts and close to the wrecked Owath outpost.

  “Round one to the bad guys, I guess,” Mol said.

  Thorn rubbed his chin. “Yeah. The end of our mission, too, unless we can prove those are Bilau ships.”

  “So what are you thinking?”

  “That we need help. And that means going back to the ON for it, and the best way to do that is to talk to your friend and mine, Captain Tanner.”

  “Stellers, received your message. I’ve passed your SITREP and all the associated operational and tactical stuff that goes with it to Fleet. By the time the Hecate’s in real-time comms range of you, we should have an answer.”

  Thorn expected Tanner to just sign off. They could only send delayed, recorded messages back and forth, because the Gyrfalcon and Hecate were more than twenty-five light years apart. But Tanner wasn’t done.

  “I also had a visit from your daughter. As in, she projected herself here, right into my briefing room. I was able to talk to her in real-time. Don’t need to tell you that that’s a huge deal.”

  Thorn looked at Kira and saw her eyes were just as wide as his felt. Even as powerful as he and Kira were, neither of them could ’cast real-time projections of themselves and use them to speak to other non-Casters.

  “To sum up, she asked for access to records about the war. Major campaigns and battles, that sort of thing. I concurred and submitted her request to Fleet, and they concurred, too. She got a bunch of files that had been redacted as required. She seems to think she’s onto something, so if you can, or as soon as you can, at least, you should talk to her. I recommend you do so. Tanner out.”

  The screen flicked back to the ON logo.

  “Morgan talked to Tanner? Talked to him, in real-time, across light-years?” Thorn said.

  “I wouldn’t even begin to know how to do that,” Kira said.

  They stared at one another for a moment, then both spoke in unison.

  “Holy shit.”

  They didn’t have to wait long to see their daughter in action, either. Thorn was just about to head back to the Gyrfalcon, when Bertilak came on the comm.

  “Thorn, can you come to the bridge? Like, right now?”

  “Something wrong?” Thorn asked.

  “No, not wrong. Weird and wonderful, but not wrong.”

  Thorn, his face screwed up in a puzzled frown, turned back for the bridge. When he stepped onto it, he slammed to a halt.

  “Hi, dad!”

  Morgan sat cross-legged and barefoot in shorts and a loose shirt—in mid-air, about a meter off the deck. Kira and Bertilak both stood nearby. Densmore lurked in the background, a data pad in her hand, recording what was going on. Thorn caught her eye and, for the first time since he’d known her, saw that she was completely taken aback. Stunned, even. It seemed strange and wrong for Alys Densmore to be anything but in smug, even sly control. But Thorn got it. This was as far beyond the best Joining that he’d ever known, as magic itself was beyond the strictly mundane.

  “Uh. Yeah. Hi, honey,” Thorn finally said. He glanced at Kira.

  “Can she really hear me? Like, while I’m speaking out loud?”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “Duh. Yes, I can hear you, Dad.”

  “You do realize that no one is able to do this, huh?” Thorn said, shaking his head in wonder.

  “Uh, again, duh? Here I am, talking to you!”

  “I know. It’s just that—” Thorn stopped, shaking his head again.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve already been through all the stages of shock and awe,” Kira said.

  Bertilak just crossed his arms and beamed proudly. “That’s my creator for you!”

  Morgan giggled. “Stop calling me that, Bertilak!”

  “But it’s true. You made me and the Jolly Green Giant out of magic. So there.” He stuck his tongue out at her.

  Morgan giggled again, but Thorn cut in. “Morgan, how long are you able to do this?”

  “I don’t know. ’Til I get bored, I guess.”

  Densmore sniffed. “Amazing. I have to learn how to do this.” She looked at Thorn. “Imagine being able to get into places without triggering security. Hell, without leaving your office!”

  “Yeah. Spying. That was the first thing I thought of, too,” Thorn replied, adding a sigh of exasperation.

  “Anyway, honey, you obviously wanted to get hold of us for a reason,” Kira said.

  “Oh. Yeah. I got a bunch of stuff sent to me from, um, you call it Fleet, right? Your bosses?”

  Thorn nodded. “Yeah. Captain Tanner told us about it. Why did you want that stuff? What were you looking for, anyway?”

  “I wasn’t sure. But I think I found it. Major Fenton seems to think it’s a big deal, so I thought I should tell you and mom about it.”

 
; Kira shifted from foot to foot. “What? What is it?”

  “I was looking at all the different battles the Monsters fought against you. I really liked reading about that big one, where you and mom saved a whole bunch of ships that got jumped by the Monsters, by the way. That was cool, you guys were so awesome!”

  “Thanks, Morgan. But let’s stay on track, shall we?” Thorn said, trying not to fidget. He didn’t want to pressure Morgan, but he also wanted to know what it was that she’d discovered.

  “Oh. Yeah. Anyway, I can still feel the shamans. The ones who are Monsters. I don’t let them feel me, but I feel them. I can get ideas about what they’re thinking. And they’re pretty upset.”

  “About what?” Kira asked.

  “About some battles they lost. There was one at—aw, poop. I always forget how to say this. Messy-er 4? Messy-ay 4? Anyway, it’s a place where Major Fenton says you guys never fought. There’s nothing in the records I got about a battle there, either.”

  “Messier-4? I’ve seen it on the charts, but that’s nowhere near Allied Stars space,” Thorn said.

  Densmore moved to Bertilak’s side and whispered to him. He nodded, turned, and called up a star chart, then he zoomed into the region around the cluster of stars called Messier-4. She studied it for a moment, then turned to Thorn and Kira.

  “I wondered if we might have run a covert op out there, but no, we never have. To the best of my knowledge, the ON has never been anywhere even close to Messier-4.”

  Bertilak pondered the chart. “It looks like it’s on the edge of Nyctus space, not far from territory that seems to be claimed by the Bilau.”

  “Are you sure about that, Morgan? That was where the battle happened?” Kira asked.

  “Yup. That was really clear to me. The Monsters fought a big battle at Messier-4, and they lost. They lost a whole bunch of ships, and a whole bunch of Monsters died.” She curled her lip. “Does it make me a bad person to think good, I’m glad they died?”

  “After what they put you through, Morgan, no. I’d say it’s completely understandable you’d feel that way,” Kira said, offering her daughter a reassuring smile.