The Loss Queen (Approaching Infinity Book 5)

by Chris Eisenlauer

  Biggs stepped off the elevator platform, which was already going back down, and said, “Sure.”

  Descending, Merasec waved dismissively.

  Vansen Biggs had a wiry build. His limbs were long, his joints thick, with the combination giving him the appearance of being malnourished. His pale skin worked further to make him look like a living skeleton, but Kapler knew that looks could be deceiving. Biggs was fast and strong and had been at least Kapler’s equal when they last parted company. Kapler was anxious to see the progress Biggs had made in his absence, but feared that any advancement might go unnoticed because of his Artifact.

  The Carving Knife made Kapler twenty times stronger, faster, and more durable when he went Dark, but there was almost always unconscious bleed through while normal for those new to Artifacts, so any appreciable improvement in his opponent might be obscured by his own.

  “I still don’t know why you didn’t compete, Biggs,” Kapler said as they walked together past the weapon racks to the rooftop gravity block. “You could have, you know? You’re as good as any of the fighters I faced.”

  Biggs shrugged and said with a grin, “Maybe I’m already getting everything I want.”

  Kapler snorted as he set the controls for the block to twenty-five standard gravities. He looked up as Biggs stepped onto the block. “Hey!”

  Biggs shot a glance backwards. “What?” His look and his tone betrayed the careful mask of patience he’d affected.

  Kapler didn’t understand, but didn’t dwell either. He knew better than to with Biggs. It could have been jealousy, resentment, but if so, Biggs had only himself to blame.

  “Probably not a good idea to go unarmed against a Shade of the Viscain Empire,” Kapler said. There was no ego in the statement, hidden or overt.

  Biggs stared for a moment and smiled a bit too broadly. “How forgetful of me.”

  10,922.050

  Root Palace (Transit)

  Spaier Waice wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He trusted his teacher implicitly, but he still believed in the Empire, or at least he wanted to. He was young and naïve enough to think—or hope, he was beginning to suspect—that the Empire existed for its citizens, not the other way around. But the Empire had enough, didn’t it? Was it really necessary to continue to expand at the expense of other civilizations? Waice didn’t think so. But he wanted to believe that that was where the malignancy of the Empire began and ended, so he was more than a little skeptical when Parish had instructed him to wear a customized psi blocker, at all times if possible, and to be especially mindful of it when dealing with Brin Karvasti. Her power was no secret. The notion that she would use her compulsion on other Shades concerned Waice. The notion that such activity might be sanctioned by the Emperor appalled him.

  The device was slimmer than other wrist-worn models and easily concealed. Its alert functions had been altered as well, and activations could only be checked via logs after the fact. Waice had all but forgotten it, having worn it every day since he’d received the Whirl Plate and been inducted into the Titan Squad. It took on renewed significance when Brin Karvasti called him in for a private meeting, though. There should be no cause for alarm. He was new; there was information to convey; he was certain that he’d done nothing overtly wrong, and yet he couldn’t help balking slightly at her summons. Briefly, he considered the possibility of his teacher’s prescience, but realized that pure experience often, if not always, made for a good substitute.

  He straightened his gray uniform and smoothed his sandy pompadour before announcing himself at her door. The door slid open and he found himself alone with her in the small administrative office.

  “Sit down, Waice.”

  “Ma’am,” he said as he did so. He fought the urge to grip the device around his wrist. He was smarter than that. He willed himself to be calm and cool and found success in the effort. He waited patiently for her to begin whatever it was she had planned.

  She stared at him for a time, which he found both pleasant—because she was attractive—and uncomfortable—because his psi blocker was obviously about to get some use.

  Finally she shook her head, her face lit with an enigmatic smile.

  “You know, you remind me of someone.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Do you know why I called you here, Waice?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “No, of course you don’t. What passes between us in this room will not be discussed or referred to again with me or with anyone. The essential content of this meeting will be forgotten until you hear the words Jav Holson has betrayed the Empire.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Waice hoped his face was as blank as he was trying to make it. His thoughts, however, stormed in a chaotic, swirling rush.

  She paused for a moment, folded her arms, cocked her head, regarded him. She was having trouble fighting the flush in her cheeks.

  “So much like Ren,” she said.

  “Ma’am?” A furrowed brow was a reasonable response to that, wasn’t it? He hoped so. What was she getting at?

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He didn’t move to encourage or dissuade her. It was pleasant enough, but his stomach dropped just the same. Never mind what she could do, that she could make most forget. Waice was confident in his martial prowess, but having Forbis Vays for an enemy for no good reason was a bit premature and, he hoped perhaps vainly, something that could be avoided altogether.

  As she pulled back he was both relieved by, and a little indignant at, the frown she wore.

  “No, not like Ren so much after all. You have similar personalities, but I think that’s where it begins and ends.” Her eyes popped wide for a moment and she sighed. “Still. . .

  “Anyway, now to business, Specialist.”

  Waice swallowed hard and listened to what followed.

  10,922.054

  Root Palace (Transit)

  When standing next to Kapler, Waice almost looked slight. He was shorter by several centimeters and not as thickly built. This was deceptive, though, since F-Genes were more responsible for strength, speed, and prowess than any set of physical traits, however favorable. Waice had, of course, proven himself by being the Block One champion, and though Vays knew he should know better, he couldn’t help but think of Waice as the weaker of the two, the one who would always have to try harder and who would come away with less than impressive results. There was no reason for such a comparison. Vays had seen the Competition, had seen Waice win every match. He wasn’t sure why he felt the way he did, but neither could he escape the feeling: Vays did not like Spaier Waice.

  If it had been Kapler asking, Vays perhaps would have tried harder to satisfy their joint request and would have offered up his own time to accommodate them, but it was Waice who’d spoken, who’d taken the lead. They’d come to him, requesting that he set some time apart to spar with them. Waice had also asked if Vays would speak on their behalf to try to convince Jav Holson to spar with them as well. At this Vays had shrugged and said nothing. He merely gestured for the two to follow him.

  They piled into the personnel jump deck then walked the corridors to Jav’s training facility.

  Vays punched the code on the door lock and with a wave of his hand ushered Kapler and Waice inside. Jav was on his custom gravity block dressed in a white T-shirt, baggy black pants tied off at the ankles, and simple black fabric shoes. He shone with sweat, but didn’t seem to be winded. What appeared to be steel columns rose up at intervals from block to ceiling. These were difficult to look at, slipping out of focus every time the eyes locked onto them, and seeming to shift position unendingly. A cursory glance, however, revealed that none of them were in pristine condition. All were bent, dented, or otherwise compromised, which was impressive since, by some estimates, which were obviously inaccurate, the super-dense resin-infused alloy was considered unbreakable. One of them lay broken in two at Jav’s feet.

  Kapler’s eyes widened and he l
et out a muted, “Whoah.”

  “The boys here have entreated me to make a request, General Holson.”

  Jav stopped what he was doing, regarded the three, but said nothing.

  “They’d like to set up sparring sessions.”

  Jav stared for a moment without saying anything. Finally he sniffed and approached the edge of the block where his black leather jacket lay. He spoke directly to Kapler. “Ban, my reasons for not training you are the same as those for not training with you. My training means nothing if I have to hold back, so I won’t do it. If I don’t hold back, there’s a very good chance you’d die or come away crippled. First, I don’t think Raus would appreciate me ruining his brother after waiting so long to have him back. Second, it wouldn’t do to lose a brand new Specialist just prior to planetfall. I’m sure the Emperor would take exception and it certainly wouldn’t improve our odds.” He regarded Waice and said to them both, “The answer is no.”

  Jav bent to collect his jacket, stepped down from the block, and started to leave the room. “I’m done for the day, though, so you’re welcome to use my block. The repair crew isn’t scheduled to come in until later, but I’m sure you can work around the damage—I’ve left it in worse shape before.”

  As Jav exited, Kapler and Waice shared a look, then looked to Vays, who threw his hands up.

  “Sorry, boys,” Vays said as he moved to follow Jav out. “But by all means, take advantage of the facilities. That invitation was something, anyway.”

  “What about you, sir?” Waice said, ignoring this.

  Vays stopped, stared at Waice for a moment, shifted his eyes to Kapler then back to Waice. “Should my criteria be any different?”

  Vays attempted to stare through Waice, but Waice, though his jaw tightened noticeably, didn’t break eye contact or back down.

  Finally Vays continued. “I’ll give each of you one shot to prove you can keep up. But Holson has a very good point about spoiling you before planetfall.”

  “Yes, sir,” Waice said.

  “Thank you, sir!” Kapler said, fairly gushing.

  Vays walked out, leaving the two junior Titan Squad members alone.

  Kapler approached the block, which had been left on. “This is a thirty-G model.” He was overflowing with excitement. “I can feel the additional pull from here.” When Waice didn’t respond, Kapler looked and saw that other was staring with alarming intensity at the block, but was somehow very far away.

  “Waice. Come on. If this is a standing invitation, it’s the next best thing to training with him, right? Besides, why are you so upset? My brother’s regaled me with stories of General Holson since I came out of the tank, promising on more than one occasion that I’d get to train with him if I wanted. It seemed close so many times and every time was a serious let-down. So if we’re in a competition to see who should be more upset by this, then clearly, I’m the winner. . . And yet still you stew.”

  Waice seemed to relax. He regarded Kapler. “Yeah, okay. Victory is yours.”

  “Let’s use it before he kicks us out,” Kapler said.

  Waice cracked a smile for the first time. “You specialize in Wind Fission, right? How do you incorporate Approaching Infinity?”

  “Uniquely,” Kapler said, smiling as he walked to the control podium. “Laedra Hol said it’d never been done before, but it seemed natural to me. I apply Approaching Infinity to the Wind Fission blades, manipulating them, redirecting them to maximize their power before they’re exhausted.”

  Waice nodded. “Impressive.”

  Kapler cut all power to the block. “I can’t pull off a successful Copy Twin. That’s Cov Merasec’s specialty. Whenever I try, I slip into the shadows.”

  “The shadows? I’ve heard something about that,” Waice said. He started pulling on the end of a broken column, found it to be extremely heavy and difficult to grip.

  “Dark Speed. It’s hard to explain and to believe,” Kapler said. He hopped up onto the block and helped Waice maneuver the column with a series of shifts and shoves. “It’s like a parallel dimension, running literally parallel to this one. It’s like looking up through a pool of black water. I can move through the pool and the surface shifts to corresponding shadows here in the real world. As far as I know, nothing else exists in the shadow dimension, but I can use it for shelter or to travel extremely long distances in a very short time. Don’t know how that works exactly, but it does.”

  “Even more impressive.”

  They managed to remove the half column from the block, then started on the other half.

  “I can only access it or leave it through actual shadows. Not exactly combat-grade in every situation, but useful nonetheless.”

  “You’re not a Locsard graduate, though,” Waice said, confirming.

  “Uh-uh. My father’s legacy. The unexpected result of all his genetic tampering.

  “Okay, your turn. What is the Divine Pattern Fist?”

  Waice laughed, briefly pausing his efforts with the column. “Besides a life choice you mean? The first year was entirely meditative. I trained physically, but not with anything that had to do with fighting, not in the beginning. Through directed meditation, you can start to discern a pattern in all matter, how it’s put together, what’s flowing through it, and so on. This enables you to easily spot structural weaknesses and exploit them. Through further combined meditative and physical training you learn to manipulate your own pattern, to make it stronger or weaker on demand.”

  “Oh?”

  They continued to work the remaining column off the block by sliding, nudging, and rolling it. Kapler left Waice on the block and returned to the control podium, looking back over his shoulder, listening.

  “A stronger pattern is probably obvious, but a weaker one is better than it sounds. A weaker pattern makes you lighter, less of a solid target and more of an elusive one. In either case, though, it requires a conscious effort, like flexing a muscle. My teacher told me that, with years of practice, it can become autonomic, but only if you specialize in one or the other, hard or soft. He taught me some of both and warned me not to lean to heavily towards one or the other.”

  “Why, I wonder.”

  Waice shrugged. “Have you ever seen Wil Parish’s face? I haven’t. I don’t know if anyone living has. I know he specialized in the soft, in what he calls subtlety. I know no one can touch him unless he wills it. I suspect it’s a constant struggle for him to remain a coherent whole.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Speculation based on observation.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Anyway, are we ready?”

  “Right! Twenty-six gravities to start.”

  Waice nodded.

  “Hopefully work our way up,” Kapler said.

  “Hopefully.”

  They stood facing each other on the block, both in their squad grays, regarding each other for what seemed a long time. Waice was first to act, but seemed to move almost in slow motion because of the additional gravity. Kapler flashed a wolfish grin, but promptly frowned, as he called his twin knives, both manifestations of the his Artifact, the Carving Knife, to his hands from out of thin air, and felt the same constraints that were slowing Waice. Each struggled to take the next step without being driven down to the block’s surface. Then the columns started to move in response to their motion.

  They’d set the block to zero before clearing the broken column away, but neither realized that the block, when fully operational, worked in this way, with the columns skating across the surface, flipping, spinning, and doing whatever possible to knock them off their feet or knock them senseless. The way the columns moved, like clockwork gears in perfect synchronization, was mesmerizing. The added visual distortion made the actual location of the columns nearly impossible to pinpoint, so it was completely understandable that both Kapler and Waice should be swept bodily from the block within seconds.

  “Okay,” Kapler said, getting to his feet and approaching the bloc
k controls. “Let’s try it Dark.”

  “No good,” Waice said, also standing. “We’ll be able to move easily enough, but we won’t benefit from the increased gravity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The whole point is to improve our ratings, right?” Waice said.

  “Right. . .” It was evident that Waice was suppressing any impatience he might be feeling and at this Kapler grinned in appreciation.

  After a short pause, Waice continued good-naturedly. “While Dark there’ll be no significant stress on our bones or muscles, no stimulation for improvement.”

  “Oh. Then let’s not be overly ambitious and just address one thing at a time. Don’t know how to clear the obstacles,” Kapler said, poring over the controls, index finger leading the way. “So for now we’ll just use twenty-five standard gravities.”

  Waice rubbed his head and grunted in assent.

  This time on the block, they were able to move freely and better able to avoid the columns. Engaging each other, really for the first time, they both realized right away that they didn’t necessarily need Holson or Vays to learn something new. Kapler had never seen anyone make effective use of the first knuckle of the index finger jutting from the fist proper as a weapon, though he had once heard this referred to as a phoenix-eye. Waice was intrigued by Kapler’s fast—and stealthy—double knives, almost a contradiction to his size and power. Unfortunately, they also realized that sparring with each other on this particular block was beyond them, at least at this stage of their training.

  The added challenge of the blurry columns, which were never where they were supposed to be, was enough to tax and exhaust them both within minutes. They both stepped down from the block, panting and dripping with sweat.

  “That,” Kapler said between heaving breaths, “was a good workout.”

  “Agreed. But I think we’d gain more by sparring with each other on a regular block.”

  Kapler nodded. “And taking First Specialist Vays up on his offer.”

  “What else are we going to do during transit?” Waice said.