Darkspace Calamity

by Christopher Bodan

  He nodded, more to himself than her, but met her eyes before replying. “I did, yes. And a bit more, I think.” They both looked up to see the flash of a shuttle launching from the Inexorable Justice’s port hangar bay. “Well, best get ready for company.”

  Chapter 10

  Hydra’s Will, Dragon Fleet To

  A troop of guards followed as the high priestess and grand warlord entered, moving to take up positions along the walls. The conclave chamber lay on the great dragon ship’s uppermost deck, half its area exposed to the blackness of space. Under that dark dome, the cushioned reclining seats favored by the noh surrounded an open space. Here would slaves light fires, set up meeting tables, or dance or bleed out their lives for their masters’ amusement.

  The chamber stood largely empty now, the lights along its curving walls darkened, and only the thin starlight fell across the waiting figures at the far end. Zineda waved her hand, and red-green esper lamps along the roofed portion of the room glowed softly. The three figures turned to regard them. Zineda could see the outlines of great noh warriors kneeling in a semicircle behind the towering figure of Kasaro To. Huge even by the standards of her species, the Noh Empire’s sole Relic Knight, the Anointed of Nozuki, glanced at them. He hesitated for a few impertinent heartbeats before he turned to face them. He carried no weapons, but he needed none. Azi, his cypher, leapt from his perch on the wall and clambered up the Knight’s rippling torso to his shoulder. Spite flexed her claws, and Zineda cooed to her.

  Mamaro To stopped a dozen paces from his guests and inclined his head, the bare minimum respect required. “Forgive the delay, Anointed Knight. We were engaged on critical matters.”

  Kasaro To rolled his eyes and sneered. The expression allowed the low light to glint off the decorative rings on his tusks. “Save your platitudes and empty pleasantries. I care nothing for what you say or what you were really doing.” His eyes drifted briefly over Zineda before fixing back on the warlord, making clear exactly what he thought had occupied them. “I have come on the direction of our god, and no matters are more critical.”

  “And you have brought guests,” Zineda said, injecting smoothness into her voice with some effort. She bowed from the shoulders at the aliens. “Welcome, Amelial, Herald of the Void. To what do we owe the honor?”

  The Herald fixed her gaze on the high priestess, and a cold wave washed over Zineda. She suppressed a shiver. It angered Zineda to admit how much the strange alien’s species unnerved her. Amelial’s smooth, ghost-pale features closely resembled the human slaves’, but her face’s sharp angles and frigid perfection set her clearly apart as something strange even to the noh. She wore the same supple body suit and smooth armor that Zineda remembered, both backlit by subtle streams of flowing green-black esper. The almost skeletal frames rising from her back held only the shadowed outlines of the dark violet esper wings that they usually projected; the lamps’ light tinged their edges with a sickly red. Beside Amelial stood a slim figure with shadows draped around her like gauze. Zineda could just see the esper-traced bodysuit, curving armor, and a hint of flowing robes.

  “A critical time approaches,” the Herald said. Though she spoke softly, her words carried to every corner of the vast chamber. “We must act together to ensure that all transpires correctly.”

  “Amelial requires our warriors,” Kasaro To said peremptorily. “Events are beginning to move quickly. You must fulfill our agreements. Give your ships to her direction, and destroy her enemies—and ours. This is as it must be. Nozuki has shown me this.”

  “Really.” Mamaro To did not speak the word as a question. “Fascinating. Our god continues to show you great favor. Tell me, did he send you a vision, perhaps speak directly through a priestess, or did you find a written note on your pillow one night?”

  Kasaro To snarled. “I am the chosen of the Hydra God. I am the manifested will of the Endless Hunger. I am his anointed champion, warlord. Never forget that.”

  “All true,” Zineda cut in, her voice sharp, “but you are not a priestess. You do not commune with him. He touches your mind, yes, but he gives us clarity and direction. You are his instrument,” she jabbed a finger at him, “but we are his voice.”

  “He does not tell you everything,” Kasaro To growled, a bit more restrained than Zineda had expected. She sensed an opening.

  “Nor you, it seems. He grants visions to those who require them.” She ran her claws delicately over Mamaro To’s arm. “He has had such a vision.”

  Kasaro To’s eyes narrowed. “Has he?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “Through the rituals, all correct and ordered.” She cocked her head in question and injected razor-edged silk into her tone. “Do you doubt the word of your high priestess?”

  In her thoughts, she dared him to challenge her, to impugn her office and reputation. She resisted the urge to goad him. If he pushed her, she would question him on the exact details of Nozuki’s direction to him, pull apart his words to reveal only his own desires and nothing divine. Then they would see whom the Hydra God truly favored.

  “Pray, share this vision, if you can.”

  Zineda waved Kasaro To’s comment away as if it had no more importance than dust. “Such visions, as you know, are between Nozuki and his chosen. When you need to know, you shall.” She spread her arms with her palms out, as if revealing everything. “All that matters for the moment is that it is important to He Who Hungers, and therefore cannot be ignored.”

  Kasaro To ground his teeth. “The Endless Hunger has directed our dragon fleet to fulfill our obligations.” He jabbed a finger at Mamaro To. “You are the Supreme Warlord of Dragon Fleet To; therefore you must fulfill these duties.” He gestured to Amelial. “She requires soldiers. Send them.”

  “I am supreme warlord,” Mamaro To replied, unruffled. “Tell me, Herald, for what do you require us?”

  Amelial glanced from one of the hulking warriors to the other, as though she might actually be able to see their conflict sparking in the air between them. “Our enemies—yours and mine—gather to thwart my master. This must not be. They shall attack us at a place far from here. We require your warriors and your ships, so we must leave immediately.” She shook her head at the warlord’s unspoken question. “Your rift generators cannot carry you to this place directly. That is damaging to us. We must wait and destroy them when they arrive.”

  Both Kasaro To and Mamaro To bristled at Amelial’s calm orders and preemptory manner, though the warlord hid it better.

  “Very well,” Mamaro To said. “For your aid in this galaxy and others, we shall do as you ask.”

  A flash of satisfaction crossed Kasaro To’s face, but he hid it quickly.

  “I am supreme warlord, as you have rightly pointed out, Anointed One, and the warriors of Dragon Fleet To are mine to command.” He raised a hand to the Relic Knight. “By that authority, I command you, Kasaro To, to take your Kyojin warriors and those dragon ships already under your banner and go to the aid of our allies, the Herald of the Void and her people.” He paused for a second. “If you feel your power is sufficient to the task.”

  Kasaro To went livid. He sputtered for a second before his restraint snapped and he roared. “You arrogant dog! You cannot command me. I am the Chosen of Nozuki, and I follow no will but his.”

  “And he has directed that we do this, as you said,” Mamaro To replied in a voice thick with anger and self-control. “I suggest you obey him, if you think you can.”

  Blue-violet light flashed from Amelial like a dying star. It washed the room in the colors of night, and all voices fell silent. “Enough of this.” She rounded on Kasaro To. “Your warlord has spoken. Whether you like his words or not means nothing. All that matters is that I obtain warriors who can actually defeat our enemies. Captain Harker has expanded his own strength and recruits more allies; we think that he is rallying other Knights to join him.”

  Zineda started at the name but kept her eyes fixed on the Herald.

  “If we
are correct, Harker could bring several Knights, likely at least one a Relic Knight, and the considerable power of his fleet to bear against us. Perhaps even some of the paladins.” She waved a hand at Mamaro To without looking at him. “Your warlord has hinted that your strength may not be enough. Even if he said these things only as a goad, I must know the truth. Can you and your vaunted Kyojin berserkers defeat such a force?”

  Kasaro To glared at Amelial with enough hate to ignite stone, but she never flinched. Blood red esper rose around the noh like a gathering storm. “Of course,” he finally said in a voice hoarse with rage. “My Kyojin live only to sate our god’s hunger. His touch on their minds has granted them a divine madness, made them perfect incarnations of his appetite.” He nodded toward Mamaro To. “This dog may fear to use them, but I do not. They are pure servants of Nozuki’s will.” He glanced at the warlord. “And I am that will.” His fanged maw broke into a cruel grin. “Never doubt me, Amelial.”

  “Very well,” she said and turned to the other noh. “Do not think me unobservant or foolish. I can taste the esper around you both. What does the name Captain Harker mean to you?”

  Mamaro To spoke slowly. “He has fought us before, in more than one galaxy. He has studied us. He—” The warlord broke off, clearly contemplating. “He was part of my vision.”

  Both Amelial and Kasaro To stared at him. Zineda put her hand on his arm. “My lord, after so much today, perhaps now is not the time—”

  Mamaro To fixed his gaze on the Herald. “My vision is of an artifact, one Nozuki wishes us to acquire. One we believe Captain Harker has.”

  Amelial’s eyes narrowed and her voice took on a power and feeling it had lacked, though her face remained fixed and porcelain. “What kind of artifact?”

  “We know little beyond the hints and metaphors of the vision,” Zineda answered smoothly before her warlord could speak. “We suspect that Captain Harker has seized it, but he has vanished. Perhaps if you could reveal his whereabouts, Lady Amelial, we could strike at him now before he can mass his strength against you.”

  The alien’s gaze remained suspicious as she spoke. “Lady Zineda, if we knew the captain’s location, we would already have directed you thus. Alas, Captain Harker has long opposed us, and he knows our ways. Something hides him from our sight. But of this artifact—”

  “Whether Harker has indeed taken it, or if the vision was only meant to show that he would oppose us,” Zineda went on quickly, “is unclear. If he has it, he has taken it into hiding. We shall seek it, as our god commands, but of it we know only that it is powerful.”

  “A font,” Mamaro To said, almost too quietly. “A fountain of esper.”

  A gasp drew their attention to the shadows. The creature behind Amelial moved forward. “The signs were right,” she said, her pleasing voice animated and eager. “They echoed through the void like thunder. The Source has appeared.”

  Amelial nodded. “Then the Calamity has come. All the more reason for haste. Warlord, you must pursue this artifact.”

  “Our god has so commanded,” Mamaro To replied in icy tones. “That is all the instruction I need.”

  Amelial gestured to the other woman. “Fine, I care not for your reasons. Your search will likely distract Harker and certainly reduce his power if you succeed. You seek the Source, and Tahariel shall aid you.”

  The other alien woman drifted forward, the low light glinting from her curving armor plates. Though almost human, the warrior wore an esper-traced bodysuit and plates of armor tinged with darkness. A great circle that whirred and clicked with channeled esper rose behind her head, matching those that topped her bejeweled staff and supported her armored boots. The blackness that pulsed in the center of each circle swallowed light and esper, and was clearly holding the creature aloft. Her scant robes drifted in a breeze none of the others felt. A small automaton cherub cypher flitted around her on circular wings that gave it the same lift as its mistress.

  “She is my favorite hound,” the Herald said, “the finest huntress among our void witches. She also has great experience in this galaxy already.”

  Tahariel inclined her head to the noh.

  Amelial looked at the younger woman. “You know my will. Do not fail.”

  Tahariel bowed more deeply but remained silent.

  Mamaro To nodded, clearly considering their options. “I will assign you to Marikan To. She is the satra—the leader—of our Sarva scouts. She is also a Knight and among the most gifted huntresses our people have ever known.”

  Amelial glanced from Tahariel to Mamaro, but her expression betrayed nothing. “Excellent. I am pleased you take this matter so seriously. Now we must go. Even if Harker himself cannot threaten me, he may send his allies and minions. They must be slain.” She turned to Kasaro To. “Come, Anointed One. Show us the strength of your devotion and arms.”

  The Relic Knight growled. “Do not taunt me. You are not untouchable.” He glared at Mamaro To and Zineda one last time. “And neither are you.”

  Then he stalked from the room. The berserkers rose silently and shuffled after him, their drug-induced quiescence obvious from their unsteady movements. Amelial followed last.

  When they had gone, the noh turned silent, hard stares at the strange woman called Tahariel, who remained under the dim stars. “So,” she said pleasantly. “Where shall we begin?”

  Chapter 11

  Inexorable Justice, unknown region, wildspace

  The Inexorable Justice proved as impressive on the inside as it had on the outside. The size and efficiency of the hangar impressed Malya, as did the determination and intensity of the green-haired paladin who guided them through the ship. The confidence and strength she radiated perfectly matched both the impressive power of the ship and Malya’s mental picture of the Shattered Sword. The decorations and embellishments she saw nearly everywhere surprised her, however. She had expected only spartan austerity from the Peers and certainly from an Order so overtly combat-focused as the Shattered Sword. Yet tiny details continually caught her eye, such as the gentle suggestion of wings embossed on walls edging the starfighter bays, the jagged sword motif on the bulkhead doors, and the sculpted settings for the lights in public spaces.

  As they disembarked from the shuttle, they made quite a sight, the little troupe of pirates, racers, and oddities. Kenobo had raised more than a few hackles and pulse rifles, though discipline and the monk’s carefully peaceful manner kept things from getting out of hand.

  “My people have been killing paladins for thousands of cycles,” the noh muttered as he eyed the soldiers. “And, well, I am a pirate.” He shrugged. “I can hardly blame them.”

  A terse word from Sebastian Cross had defused the situation and granted the giant safe passage if no actual trust. He never raised his voice, and did not even sound stern. A calm, quiet, “Stand down,” that seemed to fill the whole bay was enough. Malya had seen the paladins fight dozens of times and met some of their most celebrated heroes, but she understood instantly how Sebastian Cross could rise so quickly to command one of their Orders.

  And now, she realized as she surveyed the briefing room, she had to convince him to chase a faint hope on the word of a pirate. A sinking feeling dragged at her while Cross introduced his aides, Purifier Second Isabeau Durand, the green-haired woman, and another young woman Malya recognized from ten thousand holovids as Jeanne Romee, Paragon and standard-bearer of the Shattered Sword. Cold tendrils radiated out from her stomach and sucked the strength from her limbs as Harker recounted to the stern and silent paladin what he had already told her. When Kenobo illustrated again the movement of the noh fleets and explained the correlation with the esper crystals’ growth, Cross’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward.

  “We had seen no connection to the crystal growth,” he said, “no discernible pattern.”

  “Nor did we, Lord Cross, for an extremely long time,” Kenobo replied. “Indeed, not until my fleet could safely trail our brethren did we even suspect a connection,
and even now, at the very end, we cannot be absolutely certain of its nature.”

  “But we are certain of the connection,” Harker cut in. “The data I collected from other galaxies allowed us to check them against known dragon fleet movements.” He pointed to the pulsing dot in space deep among the thickest and oldest part of the noh’s depredations. “And in this galaxy, as in the others, the invasions trace back to one area. In that area are certain confluences of gravity, galactic rotation, near stellar bodies, esperic flows, and other factors.” He zoomed in the hologram above the table until a large, pitted asteroid dominated the view. “And this is it. Origin Point.” He glanced around the table and seemed vaguely disappointed when no one reacted to the name.

  “This thing?” Isabeau asked. She arched an eyebrow and tapped on the meeting room table as she frowned. “What makes you certain?”

  “Aside from all the evidence he just cited?” Rin asked, but the paladin ignored her.

  “A fair question,” Harker allowed, “considering the number of other asteroids, small planetary bodies, and random debris in the area. Yet, given the gravity fields there, I’m positive this is it because it shouldn’t be here.” He pulled the hologram further back, and whirls and loops appeared over the debris field to represent the effects of physics. “This data is almost two months old but has remained unchanged, as best we can tell. All the bodies around this rock move as we expect, arranged in logical patterns. But this asteroid does not move. It sits, perfectly balanced, in the midst of forces that should send it spinning with the rest.” He held out his hands toward the image and settled back. “There it is, in defiance of science and esper. The Origin Point.”

  “Is that really what you’re calling it?” Jeanne inquired. Her short, blond hair carelessly framed her round face and set off her soft blue undress uniform with the Paragon discipline insignia on the shoulder. Her lionlike cypher Gallant sat in her lap, carefully watching them all but purring nevertheless as she stroked his neck.