by Chris Fox
“Ingenious!” A grin enveloped Kemet’s entire face, and he reached for a staff to do the sparkle thing. His disappointment at not being able to do it was palpable. “Ah, in any case, your idea has merit. Stronger magic will transmute sympathetic aspects into itself. If we teleport the ship into the reactor…”
“…It will digest the ship,” I explained. “And the crew. And that magic, hideous as it is, might jump start the ship.”
“Shall I proceed?” Kemet asked, his wings held high.
“Do it.”
“Ah, one last thing,” Kemet cautioned. “If you are successful in re-igniting the reactor it will also fully realize your link to the ship.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I guess I’ll find out. Do it.” I hoped I was doing the right thing. Of course, when you only have one apparent action, and inaction means everybody dies, it’s hard to call it the wrong choice no matter how it works out.
The air around me vibrated, and all magical constructs, including the Guardian, melded back into the floor. I was alone for a just long enough to wonder what was happening, and then the air above me began to warp and fold.
The entire upper portion of the cavern was suddenly occupied by an Inuran cruiser, which looked even larger when you were standing underneath it. The massive white vessel began to fall toward me, and in a few seconds I was going to be crushed. There was nowhere to run. Nothing I could do to avoid it.
Purplish tendrils exploded from the walls, each wrapping around a part of the vessel. It was tugged in a hundred directions as ravenous tentacles tore pieces loose and dragged them back into magic. The feeding frenzy was disturbing, and the idea that I was participating in it left a disquiet residue.
It all happened so fast, and the only emotion that made it through the numbness was relief that I couldn’t see any people aboard. I couldn’t hear their screams. If they were there, like the guards I’d met, then they’d died quickly and silently.
The walls began to glow. The faint purple became a wild pulsing violet, and then the energy exploded from the walls…toward me. It washed over my armor from all directions, wave after wave after frigid wave.
The magic passed through the armor, through me, and out the other side. Each time a wave moved through, it became harder to breathe as the magic deposited something in my chest.
I fell to my knees and clutched at my heart, which no longer beat. My lungs worked furiously to somehow compensate, but black spots filled my vision.
Impossibly cold fury burst from my heart, and flowed up every last artery, every last neuron, every last cell. The void permeated all of me, to my very soul, and still it kept coming.
Eventually my awareness of the waves stopped, and a euphoric clarity overtook me. The universe stretched before me. There was Kemet, dissolving before my eyes. There, in the distance, was the Confederacy I’d heard so much about. Mighty Ternus, with their New Texas Military, and Colony 3, the breadbasket of the sector.
I could see Shaya, with its mighty tree, so tall it pierced the atmosphere. I could see Yanthara, and the fire god who slumbered there. I peered into the Erkadi Rift, where the Krox and Ifrit lurked.
I saw beyond our sector. Beyond our time. Beyond our reality. I was the past, the present, the future, the fractured realities of countless might-have-beens. I became the universe, for just an instant.
Then it all faded, and I was left gasping on the floor, too weak to even stand. At first, anyway.
I sat there panting, but after a moment I became aware that Kemet had returned.
“Well done, Captain.” He placed a supportive hand on my shoulder, and gave a friendly squeeze. “The ship is yours, and ready for battle. In a limited fashion, of course.”
“Yay,” I rasped, utterly worn out. “Can you teleport me to the bridge?”
“Of course.” He snorted a laugh. “But why not do it yourself?”
Only then did I realize that the void magic still dwelled inside me. It smoldered in my chest, just like dream and fire. Void was sharper. It required more precision. It was cold and brittle. But it was powerful, and now a part of me.
I closed my eyes and willed the ship to send me back to the bridge. There was a brief moment of vertigo, and then I appeared standing next to the rest of my squad.
My father was the first to spot me. He’d been sipping a drink through a straw, but the straw tumbled to the floor forgotten. “Lady’s big ole kitties, you scared at least ten years out of me. Where did you come from?”
“The core,” I shot back with a grin. “I’ve dealt with the Inurans. How about we go save some people back on Kemet?”
33
I thrust out a hand toward the bridge’s opposite wall, and willed it to transform into a viewscreen the same way I’d seen in the test. It worked! The wall shifted into a perfect view of the debris field around us, and in the distance I could see just how dire things had become for our planet.
“Whoah,” Briff said. He walked over and placed a hand on the wall. “It’s like touching the void. Awesome. You really are in control of this thing.”
“You communed with a Great Ship,” Vee said as she moved to stand before me. She cupped my chin in her hand and gently peered into my eyes. “I can see the void inside your pupils. It’s like peering into the Umbral Depths. You’ve been marked by a god.”
I nodded. She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t have time to explore what that meant right now. Debris was flowing away from my planet at an alarming rate. I had to act.
“We need to focus on saving people.” I pointed at my father. “Dag, I’m promoting you to sergeant. Rava, congrats, you just earned corporal. Briff, you report to Dag. Dag, take your people down to the aft cargo bay and get ready to receive a whole lot of very confused guests.”
“Uh, sure, Captain.” My dad was a wonderful blend of pride in his son and utter confusion. “What will you be doing?”
“I’m going to make the Word of Xal teleport the entire academy into the cargo hold.” I explained it like relating the weather. “We’re going to have a lot of scared, confused people. Most of those people will recognize your face. They know Dag the Slayer. You can keep those people calm.”
“On it, Captain.” My dad gave a loose salute, then zoomed over to door. “Come on, kids. We’ve got work to do.”
“What about us?” Vee asked. She nodded at her brother. “We have skills that could be of use.”
“This ship is on borrowed time.” I saw no reason not to give it to her straight. “I jump started the core by feeding it the Inuran vessel. I’m pretty good at magical theory, and I’ve done the math. For me to get fifteen thousand or so kids and a lot of material teleported from the surface into our hold is going to bleed this ship dry. We’ll be right back where we started…immobile without much other than life support.”
Kurz and Vee exchanged a glance. Her expression promised swift death if Kurz broke some unspoken agreement. He did it anyway.
“Captain…” Kurz licked his lips, pausing to gather his strength before continuing. “Our people were given the secrets to maintaining these ships. We are descended from mechanics and engineers, from the people who built and maintained this fleet. If you are asking us to help you keep this one running, then I’d argue we have a sworn duty to do exactly that.”
“Don’t,” Vee warned. Her eyes narrowed. “Not yet, Kurz. Not until we contact them.”
“I would appreciate,” I interrupted, “any help you both can offer me without betraying your people or your ideals. Keep this ship running, and your secrets are your own. Seem fair?”
“Deal.” A smile ghosted across Vee’s face. “I’ll even call you Captain.”
“More than fair, Captain.” Kurz offered a grateful nod. “I will begin surveying power relays and searching for damage.”
They filed off the bridge, which finally left me alone. I wanted my wits about me for this one, just in case my mother insisted I speak to the minster on the spot.
I moved to
the spell matrix and lovingly caressed the stabilizing ring as I slipped inside. My matrix. My ship. It didn’t feel real. Somehow I knew it couldn’t last.
The rings slowly rotated around me with their faint hum. I tapped fire on all three, and a missive appeared on the wall I’d turned into a viewscreen. It took a moment to be accepted, but then my mother’s face filled the wall.
“Jer?” Her eyes shone and I don’t think she’d ever worn that large of a smile in her entire life. “We scryed some sort of magical explosion in the fleet. I was hoping you were involved. Does this mean you’re on that dreadnought?”
“It does,” I confirmed, not wanting to leave her in suspense. “We have control of one of the Great Ships, Mom. It’s called the Word of Xal. I have so much to tell you, but we can get to that later. I need to get down to the academy. We’ve got enough space in the hold to save everyone.”
My mom blinked, unable to find words for several moments. “I…see. I don’t know how you pulled it off, but I am amazed. Let me speak to the minister. I’ll let her know you’ll contact us once you’ve completed the evacuation.”
“Uh, there’s a reason I called you first.” I inhaled slowly. I don’t know why I feared telling my mother this. I wasn’t a student any more. “The, ah, headmistress isn’t overly fond of me. I still owe some fees, and we exchanged some words…a missive from the minister could go a long way to making sure this all happens quickly.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed and thunderclouds descended. “You are going to tell me this story once we have this situation under control. Don’t think saving the academy will get you any slack, either.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll be in touch.” Abort! Abort! “Love you.”
“Love you too.” There was no Jerbear, and the thunderclouds had only worsened by the time the missive disconnected.
The whole incident at the academy seemed so laughable in the face of imminent destruction. Maybe we focused on it because it was a way to pretend the situation wasn’t happening. To be normal. Who knew?
“Guardian?” I called. I figured he was nearby, and I was right.
“Yes, Captain?” Kemet appeared before me with a holographic Ardaki in one hand.
“Let’s work on some logistics.” I nodded at the screen. “I want to retrieve an academy from the surface, buildings and all. How do I best go about that?”
“Mmm, this will require precision.” A long tongue flicked over his teeth contemplatively. “Were it me, I would conduct a survey on the surface. This will allow you to specifically target whatever mass you wish to move. However, there is one further…complication.”
“Of course there is.” I suppressed an eye roll. “Elaborate.”
“You will need a conduit to the Word of Xal to activate the teleport,” Kemet explained. He nodded at Ardaki. “That means using the staff. With Ardaki you will lessen the magical requirements and increase the amount of mass you can move. As our magical reserves are critical, this seems a prudent risk.”
“You said if we took it out of the ship, the bad guys would find it,” I growled, quite aware of my accusing tone. “That sounded very, very bad. Is some angry god going to come after us? Am I going to have to deal with the hungry, hungry ships from the test of judgement?”
Kemet gave a helpless shrug, which involved his wings. “I do not know. It is possible. However, if you limit the time that the staff is out of the core, and if you are careful not to reveal to anyone what the staff is, you should be fine, I’d think. No one is likely to recognize it.”
“Okay.” I hated extra complications. “So, how do I get Ardaki?”
“Will it,” Kemet supplied. “Nearly all command actions are initiated this way. Envision what you need, and it will become reality.”
That sounded simple enough. I extended my right hand and envisioned the staff there. To my immense shock the air popped and folded, and the universe deposited the staff into my hand.
I could feel the intelligence within the silver haft. It wanted to be wielded.
“Well done.” Kemet bowed. “Good luck in your mission, Captain.”
Then I teleported down to my alma mater to save them from imminent destruction.
Interlude VI
Jolene hurried to her desk and waved a hand over it as she approached. The surface sprang to life, and data populated all over the screen. She waved away notifications until the clutter was gone, then focused on the view itself.
Right now the desk showed the Great Ships, a view of all of them. Seven in total, though it was unrealistic to expect that all could be salvaged. That hardly mattered, though.
If she could salvage even three, her fleet would be one of the greatest powers the sector had ever seen. What’s more, she’d have access to the knowledge of the ancients.
What clues had Inura inadvertently left behind? Their creator had finally revealed himself during the last Godswar, and had foolishly allowed himself to be slain. He was no more, squandered for no good reason in an endless cycle of war between gods.
She honored his memory, but did not miss him. She would make use of the knowledge that he’d left behind, and who knew? If Inura’s Grace was among the surviving ships she might find a way to replace him.
A red exclamation point appeared on the screen, and she tapped it. It inflated into a graph with relevant information about a magical event that the flame readers had just detected with their scrying.
“This makes no sense unless they succeeded,” she muttered, then pinched in the air near the screen to zoom in on the Word of Xal. The vessel leapt into clarity, and the moment she glimpsed the violet glow coming from the reactor and weapons, she couldn’t help but grin. Her plan was finally coming together.
The Word of Xal was waking up.
She hardcast a missive, the fire and dream sigils fusing into a mirrored surface. Only…it wasn’t mirrored. It was cloudy. That would only be possible if Valat was blocking scrying, which she wouldn’t put past him…or if he was dead.
Jolene returned her attention to the Word of Xal, but this time she was scanning for her cruiser. White on black near the bridge should have been easy to spot, yet she saw nothing. She spent a good minute combing the image, but the ship was simply gone.
Ordinarily she’d trace it, but due to the secrecy of the mission, she’d shielded that vessel from scrying. The wards had been architected by better minds than hers, and there was no way she’d be able to pierce them. Not even with Inuran resources.
What did it mean? Had her underlings fled? That made no sense. Why flee when it appeared that they had somehow accomplished their mission? There were no scenarios that fit the facts.
None that she was ready to accept, anyway.
The screen’s edge rippled red, and she accepted the incoming missive. It showed the sub-bridge where her subordinates took care of the day-to-day matters of the ship.
“Pardon, Matron,” a blond tech of too few years bumbled out. “We deemed this matter urgent enough to interrupt you. We have just intercepted a missive between the Word of Xal…and the minister of Kemet.”
“And?” she demanded. “What does it say? I want to hear this conversation. Now.”
The tech squirmed uncomfortably. “We are not familiar with the modulation, and there are several layers of wards encrypting the communication.” She blinked uselessly, clearly waiting for instructions.
“I will deal with it,” Jolene snarled, then terminated the connection.
Who was in command of the Word of Xal, and what were they telling the minister? The most likely explanation was that she’d been betrayed by Valat, but that didn’t feel right.
He had no relationship with the minister, and nothing to gain by communicating with her. Had he betrayed her, he’d have left the system.
That meant someone loyal to Kemet was in charge of the vessel, and if that was the case, it meant they might have the resources to unmask her. It didn’t matter if they served Voria or Xal’Aran, or some other deity. They
’d all crush her like vermin.
And that meant she had to leave. Not abandon her plans entirely, but certainly be elsewhere if and when her enemies arrived. There was still the plan with the majority vote, which she would soon have, thanks to Bortel. And even if that failed she’d inherit the fleet when the trade moon arrived and these unwashed mercenaries couldn’t satisfy the contract they’d signed.
In all cases she won.
That was why she was leaving. Not because she was afraid. She would go elsewhere to await final victory, secure in the knowledge that she had won.
34
I closed my eyes and took ten deep breaths. I figured I could spare that much time to center myself and get ready for what I was about to do. It wasn’t just facing a headmistress who’d terrified me for five years. It was the knowledge that if I miscalculated, if I did something wrong, then some or all of these people would die.
It would be my fault.
As a card-carrying screwup I know what it’s like to carry around the mistakes you’ve made, and I couldn’t live with this one on my conscience. I needed to get this right. I needed to do the math correctly, I needed to use the staff, and I needed to be assertive, but not aggressive, with the headmistress.
On the tenth breath I envisioned Highspire, the largest building on the academy’s sprawling campus and almost certainly the site where they’d focus the evacuation. Since I was wearing my armor I planted the teleport in the sky above the academy so I could do an aerial recon, and then make some decisions.
The staff pulsed in my hand. I could feel Ardaki watching the situation unfold below, though I had no idea what the weapon thought about it. The idea that a magical item could have a complex intelligence both fascinated and terrified me. Could I talk to it? Could it talk back?
“My gods,” I breathed as I took in the sight below me.
Thousands of students had gathered around Highspire, a six-story stepped pyramid at the center of campus that couldn’t be more at odds with its name, as it was neither high nor a spire.