Tyche's Deceit

by Richard Parry

  Grace Gushiken hurdled his fallen form, all dark hair, black ship suit, and the bright silver arc of her sword. That sword was behind her as she jumped, the perfect arc of its strike coming forward in synchronicity with her landing. Her feet hit the ground in front of the debt collector as the sword finished its motion, carving through the air, the debt collector, his net gun, and more air as it passed from his shoulder and out below his rib cage. Grace held the poise for a second, sword low, a drop of blood falling from the point, then turned back to Nate.

  “I thought you said together,” she said.

  “I thought I’d be able to keep up,” he said. “A little help.”

  She paced towards him like a hunting cat, her sword tasting the air almost too fast for the eye to follow. The net parted, Nate gasping his way free. He took her offered hand, his metal leg whining as she helped him up.

  He frowned at her sword. “I never figured a weapon like that would be any good.”

  “Style never gets old,” she said, walking past him.

  • • •

  Harsh breathing. Sweating. The clatter of boots on ceramicrete stairs. The whine of his metal leg.

  Nate wiped sweat from his brow. When he … retired from the Old Empire, planning his future life of sailing the hard black and making his fortune, he hadn’t figured on it involving so much exertion. The whole point of being on a ship you could run the length of in less than a minute — with a metal leg — was to not have to spend so much time running.

  At last, the top of the staircase. Kohl was waiting by the door, breathing hard. Grace stood by his side, not looking like she’d been running at all, maybe a little harder of breath, but overall like this was an easy day. Kohl eyed her up, gaze lingering on her sword. “Might want to stand back,” he said. “This is likely to be gunplay. Distance work.”

  Pant, pant. Nate held up a hand. “Give me a sec,” he said. “Be right with you.”

  “I feel ya, Cap,” said Kohl, coughing. He spat something thick and viscous onto the stairway.

  “That’s disgusting,” said Hope, behind her visor.

  “What’s the matter, Kohl?” said Grace. “Not enough cardio in your workouts?”

  “Hey, I’m a rhino,” said Kohl.

  “No argument,” said El. “No point either.”

  “Point is this. Have you ever seen a rhino run?” asked Kohl.

  “I’ve never even seen a rhino,” said Hope. “I don’t know what it is.”

  “Big and ugly,” said Grace. “Right, Kohl?”

  “Aw, Gracie,” he said. “You’re just sore we’re gonna have to clear the roof without you.”

  “Be my guest,” she said, palm out towards the door. “You want to get yourself shot, that’s fine by me.”

  Kohl looked at Nate. “Cap?”

  “Good to go,” said Nate. He moved to stand beside the door with Kohl. “On three?”

  “Three,” said Kohl, and kicked the door open. He charged into what Nate had been expecting to be a bright light after the gloom of the stairwell, but what turned out to be dusk. Sun down, city lights up, clean air around them. The roof held three air cars and five soldiers. The rooftop was littered with holes — whoring and coring, as Kohl put it — that led down into the building. As the door opened with a clang, all five soldiers turned towards them. Kohl’s carbine discharged in a scatter of red laser light, and one soldier exploded in a shower of steam and meaty chunks, his plasma gun breaking apart in a discharge of energy.

  The remaining four scattered, huddling behind the air cars.

  “Great,” said Nate. “Now we need to go flush ’em out.” But talking wasn’t working, so he set off across the roof. His steps took him right, Kohl fanning out to the left. Hope and El stayed in the stairwell with Harlow. Nate raised his blaster, firing off a couple shots to keep the Republic soldiers dedicated towards lowering their heads.

  Grace moved across the roof, which wasn’t a part of the plan inside Nate’s head, because she wasn’t using a gun, and this was gun work. It complicated things some, because he couldn’t just lay down fire like the hand of God with impunity. He’d need to be careful not to shoot her, and not shooting her was high on his priority list.

  Because, and this was a hell of a time to realize it, he was falling hard for Grace Gushiken. She’d lied to him, brought the Republic down on him and his crew, and her gifts had an entire alien race interested in capturing the Tyche.

  She was just his kind of girl.

  This thought distracted him from what was going on, and it meant that he tripped on the debris from one hole leading down into the interior of the building. The stumble put him on one knee, which put him low enough to not get his head shot off with a flash of plasma fire from behind one of the air cars. He raised his weapon, sighted down the barrel, and squeezed off a helping of plasma for the Republic soldier who’d fired on him. The soldier turned into a flaming pillar, tossed backward by the blast. One for the good guys, hey?

  “Cap!” shouted Kohl, and Nate rolled on general principle. Plasma chewed at the roof around him, chips of ceramicrete flying into the air. A piece of roofing struck his face, causing bright sparks to go off behind his eyes, and he fell back onto the ground. Just a breather. All I need is a couple seconds along with a couple spoonfuls of air. Is that too much to ask?

  There was a whine-chunk of Kohl’s carbine, but no answering sound of a human turning into sludge. Nate raised his head. Five to start with, two down, three to go. Kohl was on the far side of the roof, his carbine click-click-clicking as it tried to find a target. Grace was holding midfield, sword low and ready. That was all the good news on offer; the bad news was that two of the three Republic soldiers were at the air car closest to Nate. Time to change the odds. You’ve fought better than this on a worse day, Nathan Chevell. Get your ass in the fight. From his position on the ground, he raised his blaster, squeezing off shot or two. It made the Republic soldiers scurry away from him, seeking the cover of the air car in the middle of the roof. One drew down on Grace as he ran, but Kohl’s carbine found him before things got out of hand. The click-click-click turned into whine-chunk, and the soldier’s body blew into smaller components as the water inside him super-heated in a nanosecond. Grace shielded her face, the red spray still covering her from head to toe.

  “Asshole!” she said, but ducked low and to the side, out of harm’s way. Nate wasn’t sure if she was referring to Kohl or the soldier. Nate picked himself up off the ground, ducking behind the nearest air car, then huddling his way across to the middle car. He’d lost his bead on the remaining two, which wasn’t great. It wasn’t great for a couple reasons. Reason the first: just because you couldn’t see them, doesn’t mean they couldn’t see you.

  Reason the second arrived on the tail of that thought: some damn other fool will try something reckless.

  In this case, it was Kohl. He unholstered a blaster — not one Nate had seen before, it must have been a trophy from earlier in the day — and fired at the air car itself. His carbine wasn’t any use against an object made of metals and polymers; sure, sure, it’d cut a hole through the car, but that wasn’t what Kohl was after. A good plasma weapon was the everyday choice for any situation, and Kohl was exploring how effective it would be at tearing chunks out of the air car.

  “Kohl!” shouted Nate.

  “I’m good, Cap!” Kohl shouted back.

  “I can see that! Stop shooting the air car. There’s a chance you’ll hit—” Nate forgot the rest of what he was going to say as Kohl’s shot bit into the air car’s power supply, most likely a charged cell. The cell ruptured, discharging its energy in less than half a second. The resulting fireball reached ruddy fingers towards the sky, tossing Kohl, Grace, and Nate backward.

  As Nate once again looked at the sky from his position on his back, he thought, that wasn’t smart, Kohl, even for you. Nate’s face hurt, like he’d been burned, which was probably true, but it was something he could worry about later. Something he ne
eded to worry about now was the lack of mobility in his legs. His back didn’t hurt, but his back didn’t feel like anything at all.

  You’re not paralyzed. It’s just shock. Get up, Chevell. Get up, and get your crew out of here. He craned his neck to get a view of the roof.

  The burning air car cast the rooftop in flickering amber light. The other two cars were still there, one looking more singed than the other, but still functional. No sign of the two Republic soldiers Kohl had been flushing out, which gave good odds on them being flushed right out of existence. Speaking of the big man, Kohl was down, possibly out, slight chance of dead. Grace was on one knee, trying to get up.

  There was a flash of fire from the stairwell door, Republic soldiers coming up. A loud kaboom sounded, El’s hand cannon warning them off. There was a ffffzzzzshrk of noise, something Nate hadn’t heard before, not outside of a ship. It sounded like a maser, except that was crazy, because masers were for ship-to-ship use. The only person he knew who might have magicked up a maser out of parts was Hope, and Nate remembered the box she’d opened, the weapon she’d been fixing. It’s good she had more than her rig, but it was bad she was fighting at all. Hope wasn’t built for it. Hope was Nate’s … hope that there were solutions that didn’t involve blood.

  Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this captain business. “Grace,” said Nate. His voice was a croak, but she still looked at him.

  “Nate, there’s someone else. Something else,” she said.

  Uh. Nate tried to get up again. “Grace? I need a second.”

  “We don’t have a second, Nate. We’ve got to go.”

  The middle air car’s side door hinged open, the wing of a gull readying for flight. This car was the most singed, windscreen charred. Out of the car stepped the man in black.

  “That’s impossible,” said Nate. “I saw you go down.”

  The man in black frowned. “People keep saying that. October Kohl said it before, as if it was true.”

  “I saw it too,” said Grace. “I saw you die.”

  The man in black kept frowning. “Grace Gushiken, I’m disappointed in you. For all the gifts they say you have, you’re blinded by your own fear. You’ve just got to look, Grace. That’s all.”

  Grace was all the way on her feet now, sword held ready. “I’d rather just fight,” she said. “I’m tired of running. I’m not tired of fighting though. So let’s go.”

  The man in black considered that for a moment, then held up a hand. “One moment,” he said. He bent into the air car, then returned with two long shapes. Swords. He’s got two swords. The man in black flicked his wrists, the scabbards of the swords falling free. Far from plain steel showing its teeth, the blades were dull black. Some kind of nanomaterial. Edges an atom thick. Cut through you like you weren’t even there. Nate tried to get up again, failed again, and said, “Grace? Get Kohl’s gun.”

  She looked like she was considering it, and then the man in black was on her. It happened faster than a thought, his swords a blur of shadow in the red-and-gloom of the rooftop. Grace ducked, wove, her own sword answering in a lick of silver. It reached out, caressed the man in black’s face, leaving a red line no longer than a finger on his face.

  They broke apart. The man in black smiled like he was hungry, and Grace was a banquet. “Fantastic, Grace. Can you tell me what it’s like to fight someone who’s not there?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You sound like my father.”

  “A wise man,” said the man in black, “but not a good enough teacher. He hammered at your gift like it was steel to shape. Buckled you under the strain.” They circled each other, all while Nate lay there, useless legs, useless body, unable to get up. Now would be a great time for El or Hope or Harlow to do something useful, except they were still dealing with whatever mischief was brewing in the stairwell below them. The man in black was still talking. “He left all the important lessons on the table. How to shield your own mind. How to protect yourself against someone like him. Someone like us.”

  Grace blinked, taking a step back. Her eyes were on the man in black, but they were wide, confused. Afraid.

  The man in black attacked again, his swords slicing the night sky, almost like they were made of the darkness above. Grace’s defense was still fast, fluid, but it lacked some of the beauty of before. Like she was dancing alone now, not able to see the steps of her partner. In three seconds, no more, the man in black had attacked with ten strikes. She’d dodged all but one, the last caught on the edge of her steel.

  Grace’s sword rang with the barest whisper of sound, and half of the blade fell to the rooftop. She held it out in front of her, half a sword against a man with two. Half an esper against a master of his craft. Nate saw her swallow, brace herself. Ready to attack.

  Nate’s metal hand found something against the rooftop. Fingers closed of their own volition, nothing conscious about it, because Nate sure as hell wasn’t in charge of his arms or legs at the moment. The techs had said machine learning like it was something Nate could understand. The techs had said better than the original like losing a hand was something to be pleased about. They’d left him broken, and he’d never been happier than he was now. The metal fingers squeezed, the blaster they’d found barking bright, loud, and hard in the night air. A bolt of plasma found the man in black, caught the top half of his body in blue fire, and blew him into fragments. The bottom half of him stood for a second longer, then fell to the ground to lie there along with his swords.

  Grace shook herself, ran to him. “We’ve got to leave,” she said. “He was … one of them.”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. “Fucking asshole Republic High Command, yeah? Fucking espers. No offense.”

  She ignored that last, looking back at the burning body. “No, Nate. The Ezeroc.”

  He thought about that for about two whole seconds. The burst of clear cold terror startled him out of his paralysis, his legs jerking underneath him. He climbed to his feet, his meat leg buckling for a second. “Here? Are you sure?”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  Nate made himself walk the distance to the man in black. There wasn’t enough left of the top part of him to know if there were insects in his skull, a small hive of creatures using him like a marionette. Just charred carbon that could have been any barbecued meat product, insect or otherwise. He pushed a toe through the burning remains. No time, Nate. You’ve got to get them out of here. He moved over to Kohl, the big man groaning, already trying to right himself.

  “You’re an idiot,” said Nate.

  “Solved a problem, didn’t I?” said Kohl, rubbing his face.

  “Not really,” said Nate. “There’s a problem in the stairwell that needs fixing.”

  “Right.” Kohl got up, Nate impressed at his recovery speed, sauntering over to a fallen Republic soldier. He cast the man in black a look as he went, did a double-take, and said, “Where’d that asshole come from?”

  “You know him?”

  “Abel? Yeah,” said Kohl, then shrugged as if it was a problem that had solved itself. Which, in a way, it was. Nate jogged to the stairwell, took in Harlow crouched next to the railing, a blaster firing shots over the side. El, leaning against a wall, sidearm pointing its wide barrel down the steps. Hope standing between them, not sure what to do, the maser in her hands. “Harlow,” said Nate.

  “You blow up our ride?”

  “Nah,” said Nate. “You’re with me. El?”

  “Cap’n.” She was still focused down the steps.

  “Grab a car. Don’t care which. Take Hope and Kohl—”

  “You’re sending him with us? I prefer Harlow.”

  “Thanks,” said Harlow, then fired more plasma over the side.

  “Not a committee,” said Nate. “Take Hope and Kohl and get back to the Tyche. You’ll need the big man to clear the way. Stay focused, El. They’re here.”

  “Who?”

  “The fucking bugs,” said Nate. “The fucking bugs are here.”

  “Wait,
what?” El startled, her weapon lowering for a second.

  “I don’t like Earth anymore,” said Hope.

  “Get moving,” said Nate. “I want my ship flying in less than four hours. We’re picking up some strays. Harlow?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve got the stick of whichever car they don’t take. Kohl! Where the fuck … there you are.” Nate took in Kohl, coming to the stairwell with a belt held in his hands. “What’re they?”

  “Pineapples,” said Kohl. “What do you think they are?”

  “You not had enough of almost blowing us up today?”

  “Naw,” said Kohl, then tossed the belt over the stairwell. It caught on the railing, Harlow’s eyes widening as it did so, then it slipped from view. There was a panicked yell from below. Nate grabbed Hope, dragging her outside, El and Harlow on his hells, Kohl lingering a little to see what would happen.

  The explosion shook the roof, the frame of the stairwell shaking with it, fire coughing out of the entrance. Kohl gave a whoop, then ran towards the air cars.

  “Grace,” called Nate. “You’re with me.”

  “Always,” she said. “Together.” She offered him a small smile, something brave in it, something where the two of them could stand against the horrors that were to come. At least, that’s what Nate hoped it was, because he needed a little of someone else’s courage. The Ezeroc. Here? Not a great end to a bad day.

  El was already behind the sticks of one of the Republic air cars, the machine starting up with a rumble of its drives. Kohl slipped into the co-pilot’s seat, Hope taking a seat behind them in the cabin proper. It was already lifting towards the sky when Nate slung himself in beside Harlow, Grace inside.

  “So,” said Harlow. “Where we going?”

  “Got my crew,” said Nate. “Now we get yours.”

  “About fucking time,” said Harlow.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE AIR CAR was a beauty to fly — good Republic tech skimming over a city made of lights and wonder. Buildings reaching fingers up into the night sky like they wanted a piece of the hard black. People, tiny dots below, doing a million different things. Up here it was peaceful, nothing but the car and the wind. The car worked just fine. It hadn’t been made for the war, which meant leather (or something like it). It was a shame they’d have to scuttle it. Which got El’s mind back to the Tyche, and what Kohl had said those assholes were doing to it. She looked at the big man. “So, you’re telling me they were trying to sell my ship?”