Old Empire The fallen ruling dictatorship of the wider human civilization, prior to the Republic. The last ruler of the Old Empire was Dominic Fergelic, half-brother of Nathan Chevell. The Old Empire ceased to be shortly after Dominic’s assassination by the then newly-formed Republic forces.
Organics Slang for organic life, but most typically referring to intelligent life. Humans are ‘organics.’
Particle Beam A type of directed energy weapon that fires particles with minuscule mass.
Plasma Cannon see Blaster.
Point Defense Cannon (PDC) PDCs are installed on almost every starship to protect hulls from impacts from things like meteoroids. They are also useful defense against torpedoes, although generally ineffective against railguns due to the high velocity of railgun rounds. PDCs can be kinetic or directed energy weapons.
Power Armor Armor that is motor-assisted, often used for deployments on high-G worlds. Configuration often includes vehicle weapon mounts, allowing a higher degree of flexibility for infantry deployment.
Prirene Dynasty The Prirene Dynasty has stretched back over two hundred years. It was the last family to hold the ruling seat of the Old Empire, and one of its descendants rules the Empire today.
RADAR Acronym for RAdio Detection And Ranging. RADAR uses radio waves to determine the range, angle, and velocity of objects.
Radiation Sickness A constant hazard of space. Many crews take daily medication to ward off radiation sickness. It’s as much a part of shipboard life as making sure your O2 is topped up. This means that a mild dose of radiation is unlikely to kill you if treated in time, but massive doses are still dangerous.
Railgun A kinetic weapon that fires high velocity rounds by way of a pair of conductive rails. They are often mounted on larger ships and make a dramatic statement when fired against enemy vessels.
Reactor Starships use fusion reactors. The most common design is the ICF (Internal Confinement Fusion) style of reactor. These have a variety of safety functions that make them suitable for spacefaring needs, including containment fields in case of malfunction. Larger starships can eject faulty reactors into the hard black.
Rendering The process through which construct intelligences refine raw materials from the environment. Constructs favor metals for raw materials as it allows them to repair existing chassis and create new ones.
Republic The previous ruling government of human civilization. The Republic was made up of a Senate, headquartered on Earth. Initially founded by dissenters against the Old Empire, it rose to be the driving force of human innovation, commerce, and expansion. The final fight between the Old Empire and the Republic was quick, due to the small number of ships deployed by the Old Empire (the Republic Navy had reliable intelligence that the Old Empire’s forces were much larger). Quick didn’t mean bloodless, although the Republic offered amnesty for any serving Old Empire crew who wished to take it. The Republic fell after the truth of the Senate being thralls of the Ezeroc was revealed.
Rig Slang for maintenance equipment commonly worn by Guild Engineers about starships. These double as space suits for zero atmosphere maintenance on the exterior of a starship’s hull. The design incorporates a visor with configurable HUD for instrumentation and telemetry, and a set of programmable servitor arms for complex manipulation of equipment.
Shingle A guild badge of practice, allowing the holder to a) claim they are Guild certified and b) ply their trade as a Guild craftsperson. They are notoriously hard to get, requiring years of study and excellence in your field.
Ship Suit Slang for spacesuit. Generally denotes a space suit for a specific ship carrying crew logograms and/or color themes.
Skyguard A complimentary service to the Empire’s Navy, providing light craft support both in space and on planets.
Sol Latin name for the Sun. Often used to describe Earth’s solar system (e.g., “The Sol system”).
Space Suit Clothing worn to keep humans alive in the hard black. They provide protection against vacuum, temperature extremes, and radiation. Military models are often fitted with armor to protect against blasters, lasers, masers, and kinetic rounds. They often provide additional protection against high-G maneuvers.
Spacer Slang for those who crew on a starship, civilian or military.
Terra Latin name for Earth.
Tonne Metric ton, equivalent to 1,000 kilograms.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
TYCHE’S DEMONS WAS written during a trying time. I don’t mean, not-enough-lettuce-in-my-burger trying. I mean hell-on-Earth trying.
Thanks go to my friends (in the real and online) who’ve lent a shoulder or three, either to cry on or prop me up. You guys are excellent. Thank you.
But most of all, to my Rae. You give me a bright spark of joy even when all the lights are out.
— R. P.
April 2018, Wellington
EXCERPT: TYCHE'S GHOSTS
PROVIDENCE
PROVIDENCE SAT IN front of her personal console when the screen lit with an error. NETWORK CONNECTION LOST. She’d been studying, trying to catch up on Engineering homework. Her father had said she needn’t worry about it so much, but she knew how hard he worked. Providence also knew he was surrounded by the best and the brightest day after day, and wanted her to have the chance to do great things.
Fixing a broken personal console wasn’t so much a great thing as make-work, but what might make it greater was all the lights in the apartment going out too. Could be a blown breaker, taking down the building’s comm net along with the electricity. Dad said they’d get a better apartment when money wasn’t so tight, which she knew meant when he’d finished saving for school. It didn’t matter. Providence liked their little apartment, with its single 2D holo on the wall, cozy kitchenette, and a room for her father, Bing, and a room for her. Just the two of them, together, and that’s all they needed. It was low to the ground, too, which meant easy stairs when the elevators broke. Providence was getting better at fixing them since building maintenance wasn’t — Dad’s words — for shit around here. But she could only fix the simple things that needed no parts. Providence was hoping they’d be able to afford a small fab, but she’d been hoping that for a while without much result. Hope is not a strategy.
With the power out, the 2D panel died, just like her personal console. She’d been using it to background her study with music, the volume down low. It had fallen silent, the screen dark, and Providence had a moment to ponder what other than a blown breaker might cause it, when a gentle rumble shook the apartment. It wasn’t big, more of a nudge that made rings in the surface of her glass of water. Earthquake? A small one, if that’s what it was.
Providence stood, pulling back one of the blinds to the outside. Windows were a luxury, but Dad had traded favors to get an apartment with a view. The north-facing window looked out on another couple buildings, a lot of people, and some tired graffiti, the fluorescing paint so tired the colors only shifted once or twice an hour now. The street below, a paltry fifteen floors down, showed people stopped in their tracks. All faces turned as one toward the east. Providence tried to look, but even with her face against the glass she couldn’t see what was so interesting to them. She did note that all power outside was out too, the buildings opposite dark, a blank face blind and mute. Providence felt the tickle of fear in her stomach, and knew why. The power had never been out, not everywhere at once, for as long as she could remember.
What are they looking at? She had to know. Providence grabbed her personal console, worrying the unit into a pocket of her plastic jacket. The material was a transparent purple, the console a dark rectangle inside. As she drank the last of her water, another question hit. Something so obvious she should have considered it before. Why didn’t the console attach to the city comm net?
The block’s power being out was weird, but the city comm net was a blanket broadcast from the sky above. Why, you’d need to take out a bunch of infrastructure for it to fail. Not just power, but satellites out beyond wher
e air became hard black. Providence pushed an arm through her jacket sleeve, then tried to leave the apartment.
The door wouldn’t open. The unit had failed to locked, just like it was supposed to. Providence put her other arm through the jacket. Just as well this happened — it reminded her to grab her multitool. It was a small, cheap unit, and she’d swapped it for repairs down at Old Man Cole’s place. His dispenser had died, a blocked feed line. After she’d finished using his multitool to fix it, he’d told her to keep it. Old Man Cole had said, Providence McKinley, I don’t know which end of that goes where, but you clearly do, so take it, and thanks. It was lucky he had, as the multitool made short work of the door seals, the mag locks falling to the floor by her hand. She gave a cautious look around the apartment before stepping out, but nothing here was worth stealing. Food, maybe, but people here weren’t that hard up.
Out in the corridor, everything was in darkness. She used the multitool’s lamp to light her way. Everything was quiet, no one else in the corridor with her. Which wasn’t surprising, as they’d all be locked inside without the kind of knowledge it would take to remove mag locks from a door. Providence could stay and get them all out, but there were hundreds of doors on this level alone, and she wasn’t sure whether wholesale vandalism was the kind of thing you should do when the power went out.
The floor shook, hard, and she fell against the wall opposite her apartment. Far off, alarms sounded, then went silent. Providence knelt, fingers against the aged carpet, and felt a tremor in the floor. Continuous now, a vibration without end.
She turned and ran, hitting the stairwell with her plastic jacket billowing like a cape. Down the first flight, around the corner, and she almost hit Mrs. London from the floor below. Mrs. London had a bunch of groceries in her arms and a confused expression on her face as Providence skidded around her. Providence said, “Sorry!” and kept going, because Mrs. London often asked for help with her groceries, and while that wasn’t a problem usually, today didn’t feel like a usually kind of day. Mrs. London could at least have held a light or something, the grime of the stairwell windows casting everything in a muddy gloom.
The remaining fourteen flights passed in a clatter, her half height boots clip-clopping down the steps. Providence hit the main lobby at a breathless run. She saw five people she didn’t recognize, four in the dark green-black of Marines, and one in the pearlescent white of the Empire’s Bulwark. The Bulwark officer’s eyes were wide, face wet with sweat. She grabbed Providence before she knew what was happening.
“Stop!” said the officer. “Not outside.”
Pant, pant. “Why?” Providence tried to catch her breath, sure this is why Dad said she should spend more time outside. “What’s happening?”
“Death,” said the officer. Her white armor gleamed like a promise as she let Providence go. “What’s your name?”
“Providence. Providence McKinley.” She frowned, breath steadying in her chest. “‘Death’ isn’t a super-specific statement. Seems like hyperbole.”
The Bulwark officer stared, but one of the Marines, a man with a scarred face, laughed. “She’s got you, Mansfield.”
“Okay,” said Mansfield. “Here’s what’s going on.”
• • •
Daisy Mansfield was young. Not young like Providence, but something told Providence Daisy didn’t want to be in charge of four Marines. The Marines were tough, hiding fear underneath weapon checks and banter. Gabby La Guma was stocky and loud. Alexander Buckland kept looking to the streets outside like he felt they should go that way but didn’t want to suggest it. Alan McDonald was quiet, soft-spoken, and Providence felt he shouldn’t have been a Marine. Like he should have worked in a pet store. Dustin Jacobi was angry, like he wanted to punch something all the time, and Daisy explained why.
“We were heading to the Guild Hall. Forradel and Karkoski wanted backup. Joined forces.” Daisy ran a hand through hair cut finger-length.
“Then we got fucked,” said Dustin.
“Jesus, Jacobi,” said Gabby, jerking a head towards Providence. “There’s a kid here.”
“We still got fucked,” insisted Dustin.
“Machines,” said Alan. “Machines like nothing I’ve seen before.”
“That’s not what fucked us,” said Dustin.
“No,” agreed Alexander. “It was the roaches.”
“Wait,” said Providence. “Roaches?” She didn’t understand. How could cockroaches be that big a problem?
“Ezeroc,” agreed Daisy. “They’re out there. Trying to get in.” She shook her head, hand going to the bracelet she wore.
“Ezeroc are here?” said Providence. “I need to get to my Dad.”
She made to leave, but Alan put a hand on her shoulder. He shook his head, just once. “Not safe,” he said.
“He’s at the Guild,” said Providence, ducking away from Alan’s hand. She dodged Daisy’s grasp, tucked below Gabby’s two-handed lunge, and skipped around Alexander’s surprised expression. Providence made the street outside, and what she saw in the east stopped her cold.
The gravity elevator was falling. An angry red smear in the sky showed where the Guild station in geosynch was free-falling, the looped coils of the elevator tumbling below it. Lightning crackled around the cable as it fell. She was still staring, struck dumb, when Providence realized she was alone in the street. All the people were gone. Just like that, a busy street was empty. A dropped hat sat, forlorn, in the middle of the ceramicrete. Nothing else.
Nothing human, anyway. Across the street, something she’d only seen before in holos moved in the shadows. Two meters tall, like an insect centaur. An Ezeroc drone. Behind it, another scuttled, and Providence was sure the shifting gloom behind those two hid more.
“MOTHERFUCKERS!” said Dustin, shocking Providence. The angry man was at her side, a tube-shaped weapon on his shoulder. There was a ffffpunk sound, a bright contrail of fire, and the alley opposite exploded, rubble and pieces of Ezeroc showering the street. Dustin dropped his launcher, snared Providence by the elbow, and dragged her away. Back inside, door pulled shut behind them, Dustin leaned forward. “You see what’s out there?” At Providence’s nod, he said, “So. Don’t fucking go off alone. Get me?”
“Go easy, Jacobi,” said Daisy.
“That an order, Mansfield?” said Dustin.
“It’s a suggestion,” said Daisy. “She’s just a kid.”
“My dad’s at the Guild,” said Providence, wanting it not to be true.
“Well, he’s proper fucked then,” said Dustin.
“Secure that shit,” said Gabby, rounding on Dustin.
“It’s just—”
“Secure. That. Shit,” said Gabby, crossing the three steps to stand in front of Dustin. She stared at her fellow Marine. Dustin had the good grace to lower his eyes. “I figure you need to apologize.”
“Sorry,” said Dustin. He shook himself. “I mean, it’s been a day.”
“Day’s not going to get better by itself,” said Alan. “We need off this rock.”
“‘This rock’ is Earth,” said Daisy. “We need to protect it.”
“The five of us?” said Gabby.
“Six,” said Providence. Nobody laughed, so she continued. “If Dad’s still alive, he’ll come back here. Then we can go together.”
“If your dad’s alive, he’ll be evac’d,” said Daisy. “Protocol.” She cast a glance at the Marines, as if daring them to say something, but none of them spoke. “So. We get you to an evacuation point. You can meet him in orbit.”
“Solid copy,” said Gabby.
“Righteous,” agreed Alexander.
“Feels the right thing to do,” said Alan.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” said Dustin.
• • •
The comm net was still down, all their personal consoles crying at a sky that no longer cared. The ground was still shaking and trembling as the gravity elevator spooled down. The streets being empty meant th
ere wasn’t a lot of confusion. “We need a car,” said Providence.
“We’ll double-time it,” said Gabby.
“No,” said Providence. “When the Guild station hits the ground, it will be like dropping a nuke.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” said Dustin.
“I’m not kidding,” said Providence. “I’m studying to be an Engineer. The math says—”
“Let’s go,” said Daisy. She pointed at a stubby van. “That one.”
“Locked,” said Alexander, trying the door.
“I can, uh,” said Providence.
“Kid?” said Dustin. “If you’re going to say, ‘I can break in,’ but are worried about legal consequences, let me assure you the total fucks given from us is zero.”
Providence nodded, pulling out her multitool. She began to work on the van’s door locks.
There was a clank from down the street. Providence turned to look, a shower of rubble cascading out from where a small pod had impacted the street. As the stones bounced to a standstill, the still-hot pod door popped open, revealing a humanoid in metal armor. It leapt from the pod, but not before one of Dustin’s rockets hit. Fire billowed across the street, pieces of metal falling to the ground.
The humanoid was hit in the blast but not destroyed, the top half of it tumbling across the road. It started to scrabble towards their group. The Marines opened up on it, blaster fire raking the street, and Providence hunkered down, screaming. She covered her head with her arms, trying to be small.
Daisy was at her side. “Get the van open. Get it open, or we’re dead.”
A scream accompanied her words, and Providence saw Alexander on his back. The humanoid, glowing with heat, had scuttled onto him with lightning speed. Alexander’s flesh smoked. One of the humanoid’s arms pulled back, a long blade at the end of it, and it stabbed the Marine through the head. A moment later, both Alexander and the humanoid were destroyed as a rocket hit their location.
Tyche's Demons_A Space Opera Military Science Fiction Epic Page 30