by Chris Fox
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep the rugrats in line.” Crewes settled back on his couch and reached into the pocket of his cargo pants. He fished out a silver can with a stylized logo on the side. “But seeing as we are nowhere near a combat zone, I’m gonna use a chemical fix to make Bord’s jokes a little more tolerable.”
Aran chuckled at that, then headed down the ramp. He continued down the second ramp that led to the airlock door, which dissolved before him as he approached. A shimmering blue ramp appeared, sloping down to the deck below.
The instant Aran stepped onto the ramp, every marine, probably a hundred plus, snapped to attention. They didn’t use the Confederate fist over heart, but instead snapped their hand to their brow in a tight Ternus salute.
“Welcome back to the Hunter, Lieutenant,” a familiar voice called.
Aran trotted down the ramp, and his face split into a grin when he caught sight of Captain Davidson. “What happened to your face? You look a botched morph between a human and a golden retriever.”
“Seriously? You’re going to dog on my beard?” Davidson raised a hand to stroke the coarse blond. “Yours makes you look like the dread pirate cliché.”
“Nara likes it,” Aran pointed out, a bit more self-consciously than he’d have liked to admit.
“Well, that explains it.” Davidson slugged him in the shoulder. His face shifted to serious, and he glanced at the waiting marines. “Listen, this isn’t the place to have a long chat, but I at least want to give you the facts on the ground. This war isn’t going to be like Marid. My unit is attached to the Hunter, but we operate independently. I have full say. Voria is in charge of the ship only.”
That hit Aran like a hammer. It meant a lot more than the major losing some authority. It meant Ternus was less invested in the Confederacy—not that he blamed them, or that he himself was invested. Far from it.
But the Confederacy was what they had to stop the Krox, like it or not.
“Maybe we can find time to catch up later? I don’t know what you’ve been up to over the last few months, but you remember Marid…what we saw inside her head.” Aran paused as he struggled for more words. “It’s bigger than we thought. I don’t know all of what I can tell you, but you’re involved.”
“I hate this cloak and dagger crap.” Davidson heaved a sigh. He turned to the marines, and snapped a crisp salute. They returned it, then relaxed when he did. “Why don’t you go chat with the major? Figure out what you can tell me, and we’ll meet for a beer later. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time in the depths while we sail all the way to Virkon.”
Aran clapped him on the shoulder, then cut a path across the hangar. The whirring of servos, and the yells of techs were so much louder than they’d been before. This was what the Hunter was like with a full crew.
Ternus hadn’t just brought their marines. They’d brought everything, including munitions, if the crates in the corner were any indication.
He left the cargo bay and threaded through several hallways, finally arriving at the battle bridge. Unlike the rest of the ship this place was still empty. There were no guards, and he only passed one tech.
Voria stood within the command matrix, and nodded at his entrance. Ikadra bobbed up and down in midair just outside the slowly rotating rings.
Pickus gave an excited wave from the offensive matrix. He raised a hand. “Check this out, man!” A brilliant golden glow built around his fist, the same brilliant glow that built around Bord when he healed.
“You have life magic?” Aran blinked. “When did that happen?”
“Yeah, the major got it approved. I got to talk to the tree lady and everything,” he said, all in a rush. “I saw into her mind, like whole planets being built and stuff. It was amazing. Not at all like talking to that creepy-ass spider. That thing made my ears bleed.”
“Pickus, would you mind going down to the mess and fetching us some lunch?” Voria asked. It wasn’t like her to make a menial request, unless she had some other motive.
“Of course. I’ll be back in a bit.” Pickus ducked out of the matrix and trotted out of the room.
“What’s your read on our newest tech mage, Lieutenant?” Voria asked mildly. Her face was bathed by the faint glow of the sigils on the matrix’s rings, and her eyes were far away.
“I’m still surprised you got him to enlist.” Aran moved to the offensive matrix, and stepped inside. He tapped a fire sigil, bonding himself to the ship. She was different than the Talon. Slower, more ponderous. And far, far less aware. “He’s intelligent. And he’s not afraid to experiment. Taking control of the Talon during the fight with your father saved a lot of lives.”
“But?” Voria asked.
“But he’s green. He’s never been in real combat. On the…dark planet he was a liability, and we all knew it,” Aran said. He was glad Pickus wasn’t there. The words were honest, but they would shred the tech’s confidence. “I think, in time, he could be a serious asset. I think if you limit his responsibilities, he’ll master them quickly. But I’d keep him out of direct combat.”
“I agree completely.” Voria gave him a faint smile. “I’ve drafted Pickus to work comms. We need someone to replace Crewes, since he’ll be aboard your vessel.”
“My vessel? You’re making me the Talon’s captain? I was always under the impression she was yours, sir,” Aran said, more than a little uncomfortably. He loved being in command of the Talon, and felt like he was good at it. But he hadn’t been given Ikadra; the major had. By rights, the ship should belong to her.
“She is most definitely your ship, Lieutenant.” Voria stepped from the matrix and approached Aran. She stopped a meter away, eyeing him soberly. “Our whole purpose in going to Virkon is to find mine.”
The matrix chimed softly, and Aran tapped a fire, then a dream sigil. His jaw fell when he realized what he was seeing. “Sir, we’ve just received a missive.”
“From who?” Voria asked curiously.
“It’s from your brother. Kazon just docked.”
She gave a broad, excited smile. “Well, that’s a welcome surprise. We’d best get down there and find out what he’s brought us. Good news, and many potions, I hope.”
15
A Present
Aran spent the walk back to the docking bay wondering. How did Kazon know they were here? And why had he come? They hadn’t spoken since Marid, and Kazon could have come to Shaya at any time during the last few months. Why show up on the exact day they were departing for Virkon?
It was all a little too convenient, which put his guard up despite being excited to see a man he considered a brother.
By the time they arrived, Davidson’s marines had mostly cleared out, as had the newly minted major himself. Their tanks dominated the south side of the room, flanked by boxes of munitions. Davidson’s larger tank stood over the others like a protective older sibling.
A little ways away sat the Talon, and next to it an unfamiliar ship. It was, to put it bluntly, a floating black brick. It was a long rectangle with a smooth hull and no obvious weaponry of any kind. No spellcannon, or even gauss rifles. Either it was purely a shuttle, or it utilized a different kind of weaponry. The metal had an oily sheen to it, bending the light in uncomfortable ways.
“What is that vessel, sir?” Aran asked. They’d nearly reached her, and he now stared up at the hull. It appeared to be one solid piece of metal, with no seams or joins.
“I don’t know.” Voria raised a hand and touched the metal. “It’s magical, whatever it is. Some sort of new Inuran alloy?”
“Probably,” a voice boomed from directly behind them.
Aran spun to see Kazon, the man’s beard even more unruly than it had been the last time they’d spoken. The big man lunged forward, seizing Aran with tree-trunk arms. “It is good to see you, brother.”
Aran tensed, then relaxed into the hug. Two in one day. They were going to yank his man card.
“It’s good to see you, Kazon.” Aran disengaged and shared
the big man’s infectious grin. “So what brings you all the way out here? You must be pretty important to the Inurans judging by the fancy new ship.”
“She’s incredible, the first in a new line.” He patted the hull affectionately. “And you are not wrong. Outside of Mother and Skare, it turns out I might be the most important person in the Consortium.”
“Well, I can see your smugness has returned.” The major wrapped Kazon in a brisk, official hug. “It’s good to see you. I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit, however. Why are you here, Kazon?”
Kazon burst out laughing. “You’re looking for the hook. Jolene said you would.”
Voria began massaging her temples. Ikadra hovered in midair next to her. “Can you blame me? Every time the Consortium has been involved, I’ve paid a higher price than I’ve wanted. This time we might not need your help, though. Davidson and his marines are well armed.”
“But my brother isn’t.” Kazon snapped his fingers and a deep hum built inside the ship. Nothing else occurred, at least not immediately. “The holo-scry of Aran’s fight with Dirk has gone viral throughout the sector. I’ve watched it a couple dozen times myself. They set it to the most incredible music. Simply epic. And I couldn’t help but notice that Aran came out of that fight missing his armor.”
A large black crate materialized on the deck a few meters away.
“You didn’t.” A swell of emotion rose in Aran, and he seized Kazon in another hug.
“I will always see that you are armed, brother.” Kazon gave a booming laugh. “Now see what I’ve brought you.”
Aran inspected the crate, circling it until he found the side with the red button. He stabbed it with a finger, and the crate began whirring as its components retracted into the base.
It exposed a set of armor quite unlike his Mark XI—quite unlike any spellarmor. It was smaller, for one thing, just a bit larger than conventional body armor. That meant less protection, theoretically. The armor was made from the same oily metal as the ship, rippling under the light almost like a liquid. It had a faint magical…odor wasn’t quite the right word, but there was a kind of bitter flavor to the magic.
“What is it?” Aran asked, raising a hand to the chest. He could feel the power pulsing from it, restrained chaos, barely held in check.
“I don’t really know, to be honest. Jolene won’t say anything about how it’s constructed. I believe she doesn’t know herself. Skare invented it.” Kazon moved to stand next to Aran. “It’s really quite impressive. The metal is naturally resistant to magic, of course, but there’s more.” He turned to scan the hangar. His gaze fell on a trio of marines who happened to be crossing the bay. “Hey, you there. Do you have a moment?”
The marines eyed him curiously, but moved over to join them. The one in the lead had the same dark skin as Crewes, putting him from Yanthara. “Sir?”
“You’ve got a sidearm, I see. That’s a slug-throwing weapon, right?” Kazon asked.
“Yeah, it fires bullets,” the marine confirmed, a bit cautiously.
“Can you fire one of them at this armor here? Anywhere you’d like. All three of you.” Kazon waved encouragingly at the armor.
“Are you sure?” the marine asked.
“Please.” Kazon gestured again, expectantly this time.
All three marines drew their sidearms. The pistols came up, almost as one. All three weapons barked, filling the air with the sharp scent of gunpowder as the barrels kicked. Bullet after bullet slammed into the spellarmor.
Instead of deflecting the bullets, like his old spellarmor, the armor merely rippled and the bullets shot out the other side, into the wall.
“What am I seeing?” Aran asked. He circled the armor. He’d felt a surge of void magic from the armor each time a bullet had struck.
“The armor is using complex void magic to teleport the bullet. It never actually touches the armor, and is instead redirected out the other side. Kinetic projectiles are much less of a threat, until the armor’s reserves are depleted at least.” Kazon grinned at Aran. “The best part? This stuff might be slow to produce, but it’s also much cheaper to produce than our current line. You give us a year or two, and we’ll have these available on every market. In the meantime, you’re a step ahead of the rest of the sector.”
“Uh, sir, are we done here?” the marine asked.
“Yes, yes. Thank you for your assistance. Here, for your trouble.” Kazon reached into his pockets and produced a handful of glittering golden scales. He handed one to each of the marines. “Spend it unwisely. If you can remember the night, you didn’t do it right.”
The marines thanked him gratefully, then hurried off on whatever errand Davidson had set them. Aran barely noticed, focused instead on his new armor.
“Well, give it a try!” Kazon prompted.
Aran sketched a void symbol over the chest, and the oily metal went translucent. He slipped inside, bracing himself as the metal darkened around him. It was only for a moment, but he felt like he wasn’t alone in the darkness.
The armor solidified and the faceplate lit up, showing him the cargo bay. The HUD was nearly identical to his Mark XI, though the potion icons had been updated. He cautiously channeled a bit of void magic into the armor, and it rose into the air.
“This thing has nine potion loaders?” Aran asked through the suit’s speakers. As he focused on the potions, a list blinked into existence on his HUD, cataloguing each potion with a little color-coded icon.
The icons were broken into green for support, red for offensive, and blue for defensive, grouped like matrices on a typical battle bridge. All three defensives were counterspell potions. The supports were, thank the gods, healing potions, and the offensives were an unfamiliar red potion.
“It has many more tricks to offer. You’ll notice it does not include a spellrifle,” Kazon called. “Aim your fist at something, and cast a spell.”
Aran did as Kazon asked and aimed his fist at the bulkhead. He drew enough void for a level one bolt, and was pleasantly surprised when it zipped from his fist, hissing into the wall with no obvious effect.
The ability to fire ranged attacks from your hands was impressive, though Aran doubted this thing had anywhere near the range of his spellrifle.
“There is one final trick. When you land, sketch the sigil for exiting. You will be presented with an option. Choose storage mode.” Kazon’s grin had, if possible, gotten even bigger. He looked like a toddler who’d just delivered his first present.
Aran landed next to Kazon, and sketched the void sigil inside the right gauntlet. The armor vibrated and a sigil appeared on his faceplate. As promised it had two options: exit, or storage mode. Aran chose storage mode.
The armor vibrated again, then gave a high-pitched whine. Aran lurched, disoriented as the armor flowed around him in a river of metal. It slid down his face, and when he could see again he watched as every bit of liquid metal flowed down his arm. It formed a wide silvery band around his wrist—warm, and practically weightless.
There were no obvious spell sigils on the device, making it different from every other magic item Aran had worked with. He wasn’t an enchanter by any means, but he could recognize a technological leap when he saw one. Somehow the Inurans had found, or developed, something vastly superior to what they’d been using. This could change the face of warfare.
“And you say this is cheaper than traditional spellarmor?” Aran asked. He held the bracelet up for inspection. It looked so innocent. He could wear it into any bar in the sector, and no one would look twice at it.
“By an order of magnitude, apparently. Its only downside appears to be the time to manufacture.” Kazon shrugged. “I haven’t looked too closely into it. I’ve been occupied by…other matters.” His voice dropped with the last two words.
“Other matters?” Aran also lowered his voice. He glanced around. The marines were gone, and apparently so was the major. At some point she must have returned to the bridge.
They
were alone, or as alone as they could get on the Hunter.
“I have a certain number of responsibilities now, but my free time has gone toward learning how we ended up under Yorrak’s care,” Kazon explained. He leaned forward, all amusement gone. “Aran, I was hunting for a Catalyst. Whoever stopped us wiped out an entire station to prevent me from telling anyone about it. They killed a full Wyrm, your Wyrm as I understand it.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Aran pressed. He didn’t try to suppress his eagerness. Kazon had the resources to find real answers, and it looked like he’d accumulated a few. To finally have a target for his anger…it was about time.
“That I don’t yet know. They’re very secretive, and given everything I’ve seen I’d guess they were the ones who contracted Yorrak to remove us. Because I was investigating this Catalyst.” Kazon looked around the hangar, only speaking again when he seemed certain they were fully alone. “I found a missive that referenced Nara. It was one of Yorrak’s conversations.”
“Where did you get this information?” Aran asked.
“I went back to the Skull of Xal.” Kazon shuddered, and Aran mirrored it. The mere thought of that place made his skin go to gooseflesh. “I found Yorrak’s ship. It was still drifting, and he had several knowledge scales. Most were drunken recordings, but a few had interesting bits. Most of those bits had to do with Nara. Apparently, whoever Yorrak worked for had plans for her. They called her a ‘long term investment.’”
The implications were unsettling. “You think they might still have plans for her?”
“They might. But that wasn’t what worried me.” Kazon rested a hand on Aran’s shoulder. “Listen, brother. You know I dislike Nara, and you know why. When I say this, I don’t want you to think that’s coloring the information. Nara wasn’t a good person. At all. She was eager to work with Yorrak’s employer, but apparently he kept preventing it out of jealousy. If she gets her memories back, she won’t be the sweet girl you’ve gotten to know. Be careful, Aran. She is an unstable ward, ready to detonate.”