Tyche's Fury

by Richard Parry

  Heavy Lifter A freight starship capable of atmospheric drops. They derive their name from “lifting heavy” loads from crusts into orbit. They can be used to ferry items to orbiting craft such as freighters or destroyers that are not atmosphere-capable. They can also be used for direct runs to other systems, although their small cargo bay (as compared to freighters) makes them less efficient. Captains using them for this purpose would prefer the term, “boutique.”

  Holo Slang for items such as shows and movies displayed on holo stages.

  Holo Stage A 3D projection stage. These are common across the known universe as they provide a more natural method of content consumption than older 2D display styles. 2D displays are still prevalent especially in HUDs.

  HUD See Heads Up Display.

  Hypo Slang for a jet injector, a type of medical injecting syringe that uses high pressure instead of a hypodermic needle.

  KG Kilogram.

  Kilo Abbreviation for kilogram.

  Kinetic A type of weapon that fires physical rounds. Many PDCs use kinetic rounds as opposed to lasers, masers, or particle beams, due to their efficacy against most types of object.

  Klick Slang for kilometer.

  Laser A type of directed energy weapon using coherent light. Ship-mounted lasers tend to be used for carving through ablative shielding or surgical strikes against critical systems. Hand-held laser weapons are designed to superheat the liquid inside humans into steam very quickly, causing an explosion of the remaining tissue.

  LIDAR Acronym for LIght Detection And Ranging. LIDAR uses coherent light to make digital 3D representations of objects.

  Maser A type of directed energy weapon using microwave radiation. Ship-mounted masers are most effective at disrupting enemy comm arrays and personnel in equal measure. They are out of favor as hand-held weapons due to a longer time to death as compared to blasters.

  Mercury Accords The Mercury Accords, or simply the Accords, are a set of agreements set out by the Guild relating to research, design, and implementation of AI. The short version is that the Accords prohibit the research, design, and implementation of AI in any form, due to AI’s potential to destroy human civilization. They were signed into affect in the 25th century on the site of the last war between humans and AI: the planet Mercury, in the Sol system. Mercury was where AI made their last stand.

  Navy A space fleet force. The Republic operates one, as did the Empire before it. The Navy patrol human space to protect against threats like pirates.

  Nuke A thermonuclear weapon of mass destruction. Very old but reliable technology, used in configurable payloads for ship-to-ship combat, city assaults, and the destruction of entire worlds (ref: crustbuster).

  Old Empire see Empire.

  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 Empire.

  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.

  Republic The ruling government of human civilization. The Republic is made up of a Senate, headquartered on Earth. Initially founded by dissenters against the Empire, it has risen to be the driving force of human innovation, commerce, and expansion. The final fight between the Empire and the Republic was quick, due to the small number of ships deployed by the Empire (the Republic Navy had reliable intelligence that the Empire’s forces were much larger). Quick didn’t mean bloodless, although the Republic offered amnesty for any serving Empire crew who wished to take it.

  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.

  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.

  Tonne Metric ton, equivalent to 1,000 kilograms.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  FIRST UP, THANKS to all y’all who read these books. Without readers, there would be no stories, and the world would be a darker place. You are legendary.

  Thanks to everyone who helped with this series, but in particular Scott and Pat. Your help and encouragement is humbling.

  My last thanks is reserved for my Rae. You are my true north charting a sea made of stars and possibility.

  — R. P.

  March 2018, Wellington

  EXCERPT: TYCHE'S GRACE

  A WAR OF THE MIND

  GRACE KNEW SHE was a prisoner at fourteen.

  They’d taken an air car to Ise. In the air car, the interior patterned with pictures of trees and dragons, soft leather against her skin, Grace had pressed her face to the windows, looking down at the fields scudding by below. She’d tried to ignore the rigid posture of Megumi, because under her silence was regret/fear/duty/protect, a mantra repeated louder than the full force of taiko drums. Grace had tried to ignore the sweet-sour smell of Iwao, last night’s alcohol hanging closer than the suit he wore. She didn’t mind he drank to stop the shaking in his hands. It left his mind quiet, a relief next to the rolling thunder of Megumi’s feelings.

  When the air car sat down, steam hissing underneath as gull wings opened into the humid air, Grace had wanted to run ahead. She knew better than to try, but it didn’t stop her thirsting for it. Iwao had stepped out first, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that Grace knew described the world in higher detail. An overlay, telling him about the people around him. Which ones would do them harm. Which ones carried weapons. Iwao needed the glasses because he wasn’t like Grace, and he wasn’t like her father. He was ordinary, as ordinary as anyone who’d survived the plague city of Osaka could be.

  Megumi stepped out in his wake, one hand straying near the opening of her suit jacket, which hid a sidearm. She radiated concern/bad idea/f
ear/duty, the beat of taiko ever vigilant. Megumi also wore dark glasses, but Grace expected they were as much for extra world detail as they were to hide her too-Western eyes. There they were, the three of them against the might of Ise. The fearsome ice cream sellers that tried to sell cool, crisp flavor, as if that would tear the world to the ground.

  Concern/concern/concern/bad idea, the drums louder, until they quietened, Megumi’s hand falling away from her jacket. “It’s safe,” she said, not looking at Grace. Shame/fear/duty.

  Grace put a hand on the sill of the gull wing doors, stepping into the quiet of Ise. The ground was paved, the seams nearly perfect between the stones. There were very few people, the streets almost empty here except for a few early risers. A man peddled away from them on a bicycle, the circular motion of his feet at odds with the bright holo that lit across the handlebars. A woman with a broom swept the front of her store, preparing the way for the coming day. Across from her, an older man too bent by time was lifting the rattling shutters from a set of machines that would husk rice for a few Empire credits.

  Quaint. Still. Grace closed her eyes, breathing in the silence. There was a slight breeze, Iwao’s sweet-sour downwind from her for a moment. Aside from Megumi and Iwao, there was little here to draw her mind’s eye. The woman with the broom radiated curiosity/opportunity. The old man with the rice husking machines was tired/new day/tired, like his body wasn’t ready for another day on this quiet earth. The bicyclist was already gone, a faint chime of a bell the only memory of his passing.

  The walk to the ice cream vendor was pleasant. Grace played a game with herself, where she imagined that Iwao and Megumi were good friends, and the three of them on their way to get ice cream together. It didn’t matter it was before breakfast. It didn’t matter that Iwao and Megumi weren’t her friends. It didn’t matter they’d been ordered to chaperone Grace by Kazuo Gushiken. He’d said she needs a new lesson today, and Grace hadn’t thought about that because they were leaving the grounds on an adventure. It didn’t matter that the adventure was ice cream with Iwao and Megumi. Not even the sad eyes of her mother Aya made her curious as she boarded the air car, because her mother was always sad, but always silent with it.

  The ice cream vendor was a small woman with a lined face, her eyes still bright despite her age. She seemed to know exactly what Grace wanted, a cone with a single piece of paper wrapped around it held out in greeting. Grace looked at Iwao, who ignored her, so she looked at Megumi, who nodded. Grace took the cone. “Thank you.” She didn’t pay. Grace never paid. Credits chimed nonetheless, Iwao dropping two chits to shine on the vendor’s counter.

  The cone was close to Grace’s mouth when her eyes saw something unusual. A girl, a little younger than her, was being pulled along by a woman, presumably her mother. Grace smiled in delight. The only other girls Grace had met were at the other end of a holo during her studies. They had names like Charlie Alpha Sixteen and Tango Foxtrot Thirty-Two. Their eyes were flat, faces empty, as all of them shared lessons online. Grace knew they were like her, kept apart, Mickey Chase saying they’d be like fucking uranium if you got ‘em too close to each other. Grace hadn’t understood what he’d meant, but she’d looked up uranium on her console, and while that didn’t help, a sub article talked about criticality accidents. She was left wondering if it was girls or people who could read minds that were the problem. Grace had always assumed the second until now, when she saw the other girl being pulled along, eyes wide.

  In their hurry, the girl dropped a small bag, a stylized cat drawn on the back pocket. Grace slipped past Iwao’s grasping hand, darting across the street to get the bag. Her mind focused forward, trying to see the girl in the way only she could. Grace heard confusion/fear/run/loss as she picked up the bag. “Hey,” she called out to the girl. “You dropped your bag.”

  The girl’s mother stopped hauling on her daughter’s arm. Fear/fear. Her eyes darted to the side, taking in Iwao and Megumi, who had — as if by magic — produced sidearms. The blasters were alike, short, elegant, almost beautiful. Grace stood her ground against the thunder of the taiko, concern/disapproval/fear/fight coming from Megumi, run/chase/protect from Iwao. She held the bag out, the contents sliding a little with the motion. “Your bag,” she repeated.

  The girl freed herself with a tug from her mother, closing the short distance between them in two heartbeats. Grace wasn’t afraid, because she’d been training with Keiji Kimora, Mickey Chase, and Kiyoko Shimizu for most of her life. She knew how people ran when they were trying to fight you, and this girl wasn’t running like that. To Grace’s eyes, there wasn’t enough to the other girl to damage the butterflies that kissed the golden flowers in the family grounds, let alone fight her. But Iwao and Megumi were concerned, and the girl’s mother was fear/fear/terror/fear/run/terror/fear. None of which made sense, so Grace just stood there holding the bag out, and waiting for those two heartbeats to pass so she could talk to the other girl.

  “Thanks,” said the girl in a breathless rush, a hand grabbing for the bag’s straps. Grace felt the way the weight shifted between them, from I-have-your-bag through to you-have-your-bag. She felt a dull concern/confusion mixed with interest/curiosity as the girl said, “I thought everyone had to leave?” It was phrased half statement, half question.

  Grace looked at the ice cream vendor. The old woman seemed to shrug, so Grace said, “Not everyone. There’s still ice cream.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said the girl’s mother, arriving to grab at her elbow. The mother wasn’t talking to Grace, but to Iwao and Megumi, who still stood like angry statues. “We tried to get out last night, but we missed the train.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said Megumi.

  “You should be killed for this,” said Iwao.

  “What?” said Grace. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” said Megumi, holstering her blaster under her jacket, the beautiful weapon hidden away like a prize jewel. “Nothing at all, little Grace. Come.” She held a hand out to Grace, which was surprising because Megumi never wanted to touch her. No one did, but all Grace heard from Megumi was protect/fear/duty.

  Grace turned from the girl, readying to go, then stopped. She held out the ice cream. “I haven’t eaten any,” she said. “I can get another. Would you like it?”

  “Yes,” said the girl, as concern/fear/terror poured off her mother like fusion fire from a starship’s drive. The girl took the ice cream from Grace, the soft green color clear and crisp in the new light of the day. Green tea ice cream was soothing against Ise’s heat and humidity, good since Grace didn’t like tea without the ice cream around it. It was the first time Grace remembered giving something she owned to someone, as she had nothing of her own apart from a few clothes. The girl took the ice cream with a smile, licking it. She turned away from Grace with a wave, and made it three steps before she fell to the paved street, ice cream falling from her hand. One of her legs twitched twice before she lay still. In the moment between standing and lying down, Grace had felt confusion/pain/fear from her, and after her foot stopped moving, nothing at all.

  Just a space in the world where a girl had been.

  Megumi was already moving, blaster back out like it had always been in her hand. She covered Grace’s body with her own, but nothing could mask Grace’s surprise. She wanted to ask what was going on, and she wanted the girl to stand back up. But Iwao was moving like charged light, stance wide as he drew down on the ice cream vendor. The old woman had pulled a big blaster from behind her, and was readying to rain plasma on Iwao before he fired. He made one perfect shot, blue-white plasma accompanying a fzzzzt-crack. The old woman’s body was blown apart, the plasma destroying her body and the ice cream around her. To Grace, the air smelled of sweet, burnt ice cream, and it was the first smell she associated with death.

  Megumi’s arms were around her as they hurried back to the air car. Grace tried not to look as they passed the body of the girl, her mother wailing over the still form, but her eyes
were drawn like she was being compelled. The girl had been alive, and curious, and had a bag with a cat on the back of it, until Grace had given her a poisoned ice cream. Just like that, Grace had traded her life for someone else’s, and left ruin in her wake. She wanted to run, but Megumi’s hand on her arm was like a vice.

  Kill/kill came from behind a wall to their right. It was a store that sold small conveniences, charge coils for electronics and Pocari for the heat. The door was open a crack, no lights on. Grace pointed. “There,” she said, afraid Megumi wouldn’t hear her. She needn’t have worried, Megumi moving like an auto turret on a holo vid, plasma fzzzt-cracking again and again against the wall of the store. There was a scream, and Grace made out the form of someone staggering about as flames consumed their flesh.

  Up ahead, their air car sat, gull wings opening in welcome. Grace tried to pull free, feeling terror welling up inside her. They were just getting ice cream! They were getting ice cream before the heat of the day started, a rare allowance from her father, and now people were on fire.

  There was a bang, and Megumi jerked against her. Grace felt something hot and wet against the side of her face, Megumi’s gasp louder than Grace’s own breathing. Megumi raised her weapon at an open window where a long metal barrel of an ancient rifle poked down at them, and fired her blaster. The window, wall, and everything behind them burned, the side of the building exploding out in a shower of ancient plaster.

  Grace made to move forward, but Megumi was slower. Grace turned to see Megumi’s face, ashen, lips a grey line, glasses lost somewhere in the run to the car. Her suit jacket had been torn away left of her neck, the shoulder underneath a pulpy mess. Blood flowed like the small waterfall that fed the koi lake at the grounds. Megumi leaned close. “Run, little Grace.” Duty/duty/compassion. “Get to the car. It will protect you.”