by J. N. Chaney
But it wasn’t the Joinings themselves, which were mentally demanding, though not enough to leave him this dragged out. No, this fatigue came from inside his own mind, which had slumped into a chaotic mess of overlapping thoughts and unaccountable feelings. Between the two, Thorn knew he was changing. After years as an orphan, he’d found a home in the navy, but now his job was wearing him down from the inside out.
“It’s better than slinging mud, but worse than the coffee I drank while slinging mud,” he said to the ceiling. The thought of bad coffee made him wince, and that brought a pang of awareness about what he was missing, and why. He began to count missions on one hand, and then two. Then, he mined the memories and found—
The missions weren’t overtly lethal. The whole war, in fact, had devolved into a weird, simmering series of border raids and odd clashes. Nyctus ships were rare. Their fleet was unseen. Their attack on Nebo had been the most presence Thorn had seen or heard of in months, if not over a year.
“I don't miss seeing the squid, no matter how charming they are. And now I’m talking to myself.” He stretched a bit, found the position wanting, and moved again. “Not sure I like myself enough to be my only friend.” That made him laugh, then the heart of his worry thumped to life in one thing, one image, one memory.
The Vision.
And there it was, of course. It wasn’t about being sick, or scared, or traumatized by battle, and he knew that. It was about the Vision, and his dream about Tuck, and neither of those were things he’d wanted to delve into very deeply. Those things did scare him, in a profound way.
Especially the Vision. Seeing Tuck torn apart all over again was a clarion call to hidden pain, but it had faded, because it had to. It was only a dream, in one sense—gruesome, brutal, and heavy in his senses, but only a dream.
No, it was The Vision that left him here, untethered in a sea of memory, free of purpose, and missing Kira, though he would not admit it. Not yet.
Watching the destruction of Nebo from the perspective of a little girl was wholly unnatural. Of course. There couldn’t be any joy in experiencing the final, terrified moments of an innocent child. Thorn knew full well such a thing would naturally be traumatic, a wrenching enough experience that even hardened combat veterans would probably have trouble dealing with it.
He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “No mud. Still better than Murgon-4,” he said, and it was. A damned sight better.
He stopped and stared at the toes of his boots.
A question had just occurred to him, one so obvious he couldn’t understand how he couldn’t have thought of it before. An abyss yawned before him, darkly beckoning to his sense of needing to know.
Who was that little girl?
Thorn had to stand. Of course he wondered who the girl had been. She’d obviously been a nascent Starcaster—and a powerful one, at that. The Starcaster Corps speculated that the Nyctus had attacked Nebo specifically to kill her, which had all sorts of terrifying implications on its own. For instance, how had the squids learned about her in the first place?
The doll was a mystery. The patches on it were not. It was an ON figure, clutched by a child who was far too young to grasp what such symbols meant, and as Thorn began to pull the knot apart, questions led to few answers, but a growing sense of unease at his ignorance about the child.
Why now?
His instinct was reflexive. His desire to follow through was—less so.
“Time to see Kira. There are things to know.” He didn’t relish her knowing gaze, but he understood that if he wanted to know what happened on Nebo, it started with the Vision, and it ended with Kira.
Kira, don’t answer. Know this. I’m on my way.
The stars listened, and Thorn stood, ready to find out what came next.
4
Kira was tired of explaining why, if she was on leave, she was sitting in transient quarters in Code Gauntlet, awaiting the arrival of the Hecate. Personnel on leave didn’t hang around military installations, eating military food and sleeping in military beds. They returned home to see family, or went to resorts or casinos, or just dove into a pool of booze and only resurfaced when their leave was done.
Several times, she’d had to explain herself to various Code Gauntlet authorities. Fortunately, being a Starcaster, she could simply refer to vague, mysterious reasons related to her ’casting that she needed to be there, and she was generally left alone. The questioners invariably walked away shaking their heads. Whether it was because they felt sorry for Kira, having to waste leave by hanging around an FOB for enigmatic, magical reasons, or just thought she was stupid for going along with it, she didn’t know.
It didn’t matter, though. The Hecate, which had been delayed a day, was finally here. As she made her way along the broad concourse that ran the length of the base’s orbital docks, she could see the destroyer just a few berths away. Looking through a viewport and seeing her name and registration number emblazoned on her dark grey flank in stark white gave Kira a thrill of anticipation. In a few minutes, she’d see Thorn.
She slowed. Anticipation, yes. But also dread. After his brief message, the silence was shattered, only to be replaced with questions of her own, left unanswered by the light years between them.
“Lieutenant Wixcombe!”
Kira turned to the voice and saw Mol Wyant’s grinning face peering between a burly pair of ON Ratings. Without hesitating, she pushed between them. “Step aside. Top secret mission in place.”
“Aye, ma’am,” the taller sailor said, touching fingers to brow.
“Specialist Wyant,” Kira said, smiling. “Good to see you. Gather you’re still assigned to the Hecate?”
“Good to be seen. And yup, Trixie and I still call the Hecate home.” Kira smiled, genuinely glad to see Mol’s friendly face. It was unusual for a destroyer of the Hecate’s class to carry a Gyrfalcon fighter; it had been a temporary arrangement that became permanent.
“So what brings you to beautiful Code Gauntlet?” Mol asked. “Last I heard, you were assigned to—the Stiletto, right? Spook ship, stealthed up and away from prying eyes?”
Kira’s smile widened. She genuinely liked Mol Wyant and would have preferred to use her first name to greet her, were the circumstances not so public. Although she hadn’t seen Mol in months, just a couple of years before she and Thorn had spent many days aboard her Gyrfalcon fighter, waging a covert campaign against the Nyctus.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to space you. You know, rules,” Kira said.
Mol laughed. “I know you’re joking, but I have carried passengers who tell me that unironically.” Her laughter faded, and she gave Kira a sidelong look. “You are joking, right?”
Kira made her face grave. “No.” As a hint of alarm crept onto Mol’s face, Kira laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not that spooky—not yet, anyway.” She glanced along the concourse, to the Hecate’s docking port. “No, I’m just taking some leave, so I thought I’d—”
“Wait,” Mol said. “You’re taking leave—here? At Code Gauntlet? Okay, maybe you’re not spooky, but crazy, yeah. Leave is meant for beaches and such, not a grim shithole like this—”
Mol suddenly stopped as understanding dawned. “Oh. Okay, I get it. Yeah, he’s still aboard.”
Kira nodded. Coming from anyone else, it would have been presumptuous enough of a comment to earn a snappy rebuke. Coming from Mol—well, she, Thorn and Kira had spent enough time together aboard the Gyrfalcon, that she considered Mol a friend. So she smiled. “Saw right through me, huh?”
“Again, Lieutenant—leave at Code Gauntlet? Not hard to see past that.” Mol narrowed her eyes. “Everything okay with you two? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“Why? Did Thorn say something to you?”
“Uh, no. It’s just that you’re not exactly rushing on board the Hecate to see him. Instead, you’re standing here talking to me.”
Kira was about to brush her comment off, but she stopped and looked
around instead. The two hulking Ratings Mol had displaced to get to her were definitely within earshot; she could hear them arguing over money that somebody owed to somebody else. She nodded for Mol to step away from them, closer to the bulkhead.
“Has the Hecate been involved in any major ops, lately?” Kira asked. “And no, you don’t need to go into details. I’m just wondering if there’s been a lot of stress on the crew, things you guys have to keep under wraps.”
Mol just shook her head. “Trixie and I haven’t fired a shot in anger in months. Neither has the Hecate. We chased a few suspected Nyctus patrols that turned out to be sensor ghosts, saw a whole lot of stars, and that’s about it. We think of it as a touring vacation, sorta, but on the edge of enemy territory. With the Nyctus having pulled back, flights have been like sitting and watching a bulkhead rust. Why?”
“Because Thorn’s been totally silent. I’ve tried a few times to reach out to him, using Joining, and I know he’s there, but he won’t answer. I was just wondering if there was something going on that would be, you know, making him do that.”
“Nothing I’m aware of,” Mol said. “Why don’t you just ask him? Kinda the reason you came here, right?”
“That’s the plan, yeah,” Kira replied, looking again at the Hecate’s port. “Which means I guess I’d better go find him.”
“You don’t sound excited about that—which I get. You’re worried what he’s going to say.”
“Yeah.” Kira sighed. “To be fair, I wasn’t exactly the best communicator before the Vision happened, and I ghosted him a little. Maybe a lot.”
“I heard about that. Some kind of big psychic shock wave, right?”
Kira winced in remembrance. “Something like that. Anyway, you put the missile right up the exhaust port—I do need to just go talk to him.” Kira didn’t move right away. She’d come all this way, but these last few steps to the Hecate suddenly seemed like a steep slope she had to climb—one she might just end up tumbling right back down.
Mol jerked her head at the docking port. “So go do that, ma’am. Or go check out all the luxurious vacation options Code Gauntlet has to offer and forget about it. Hey, I understand they’re serving rice pudding in the mess tonight.”
“I hate rice pudding,” Kira said, smirking at Mol, then turning and starting for the Hecate. “I’ll see you later, Mol.”
“I’ll be eating aboard the Hecate tonight, if you need to find me,” Mol replied. “I hate rice pudding, too.”
Kira stepped through the airlock to find herself face to face with a dour, blank-faced ON Marine standing watch at the Hecate’s hatch. She stopped and identified herself to him, returning his salute.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but no personnel are allowed onto or off of the ship without the Captain’s approval,” the man said. He used that flat, clipped tone that seemed to be issued to all Marines at some point during their basic training.
“Alright, so let the Captain know I’m here,” she said. “I’ll wait.”
The Marine unclipped a data slate from his belt and scanned it, but he didn’t turn to the intercom. “Sorry, ma’am, but the Captain issued a list of personnel who are eligible to board the ship. His orders are that no one else goes aboard.”
Kira scowled. “So, if an Admiral walks up to you and wants to see the Captain, he doesn’t get to board?”
“No, ma’am, he does not. And all due respect, but you’re not an Admiral.”
Kira felt her cheeks flush in disbelief, stuck between outrage and bewilderment. Ships always had some sort of security on station while docked, but it wasn’t usually this unyielding. Just what the hell was going on? Was this somehow related to Thorn’s dogged silence?
“Kira?”
She turned to the voice.
Thorn stood in the airlock, staring at her with a half-smile, about to disembark the Hecate.
“Thorn,” she said. His name was enough, just then.
Thorn shook his head to clear the surprise. “What are you doing here?”
She was tempted to try Joining right here and now, to see if she could discern something about what was going on with Thorn. But she didn’t. Again, there weren’t many people who could stop her Joining, if she was determined to do it. But Thorn was definitely one of them—and an attempted magical intrusion into his mind was not the sort of greeting he’d likely appreciate.
“I’m—” She stopped and glanced at the stone-faced Marine, who was apparently fascinated by something in the distance. Thorn noticed and gestured her into the Hecate. The Marine opened his mouth, but Thorn raised a hand.
“She’s on my recognizance,” he said, voice crisp with authority.
The Marine’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but he finally just nodded and turned back to his post.
Thorn led Kira through the airlock, along one corridor, then another that dead-ended at a closed hatch marked Machinery Space 1674-D.
“Kira,” Thorn said, suddenly grinning. “What the hell are you doing here? I didn’t see the Stiletto on the docking roster.”
“She’s not. In fact, she’s four sectors away right now.”
“Wait—have you been reassigned? So no one’s near Densmore?”
“Oh, for—Thorn, Densmore isn’t a spy.”
“Really? You’re sure of that?”
“As sure as I can be. I mean, anyone could be a spy, right? But, in almost three years, I haven’t seen a thing that suggests to me that she is.”
“Okay, but—”
“Thorn,” Kira said. “I didn’t come here to talk about Densmore. And no, I haven’t been reassigned off the Stiletto. I’m . . . on leave.”
“On leave? Where are you heading?”
“What do you mean?”
Thorn gave a lopsided grin. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t come to Code Gauntlet on leave—” he started, but his face fell as he understood. “You did come here on leave. Strange choice for a place to unwind.”
“Thorn, I came to see you. You’ve been refusing to talk to me for weeks now.”
A shadow passed across Thorn’s face, hinting at some sort of pain, anxiety, or uncertainty—or maybe all of them—that he was deliberately keeping buried. Had he not been the Starcaster she was, she might have tried to suss out something about it with her Joining. But she didn’t and just waited for his reply.
It took a moment. Kira could see him assembling his thoughts, thinking of how he would answer her, and what his cryptic message had meant.
“I’m glad you’re here. I know it might not seem like it, but—yeah. It's good that you’re here. This isn’t the moment, but soon.”
“You’re being evasive, Thorn. What the hell is going on?”
Thorn shook his head. “I need a moment, myself, just as you have. Where are you quartered?”
“Transient quarters. Room one-seventeen-delta.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch. No matter what, don’t leave.”
He leaned in, kissed her quickly, then walked away. The kiss was more than casual, and less than intimate. It was a noise, a touch, and then it was over, and the sound of Thorn’s feet faded away, leaving the uncomfortable hum that closed around Kira and her growing sense of abandonment.
“Bullshit,” she muttered, suddenly angry—but also worried. There was something happening behind those eyes of his, but he was too damned good at hiding.
Now, more than ever, she needed to talk to Thorn. She had to tell him what she’d come to tell him. But time was no friend of hers, and patience was something she’d run out of. Her greatest fear was the navy getting in their way and eating up the time they had with bullshit that would stop them from coming to a resolution about their past. And their future.
There was a simple way to deal with that. Kira walked back to the main corridor, but instead of heading back to the airlock, she turned the other way and started deeper into the ship, before that Marine and his icy gaze came looking for her.
“Help me understand, Lieutenant,” Captain Tan
ner said. “You want to spend your leave aboard the Hecate.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just to be clear, we are not a cruise ship. We don’t carry passengers.”
Kira nodded. She’d forgotten how small the Captain’s planning room was; it jammed her uncomfortably close to Tanner, one of the few senior ON officers Kira genuinely respected. And, yes, that respect did lead to a touch of fear. Not of the man, but of letting him down, not meeting his expectations—
Or asking him what amounted to nothing more or less than a major favor.
“I understand that, sir. What I’m hoping I can work out is some sort of temporary posting, from the Stiletto to the Hecate.”
Tanner steepled his fingers and leveled an intense look on Kira. “Far be it from me to balk at getting another trained and experienced officer aboard—an officer whose work I already know, and a Starcaster, at that. But I suspect Captain Densmore will have something to say about it.”
“Yes, sir. I’m hoping that—” She stopped. She really was asking Tanner for a major favor, one he was under no obligation to even consider.
“You’re hoping that I’ll contact her and work out a temporary assignment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?” Tanner leaned back in his chair. “Why the sudden interest in being assigned to my ship?”
Kira had been making it up as she went along, so she didn’t bother trying to formulate some careful response, and just said what came to her.
“I need to spend some time with Lieutenant Stellers, sir. I’m worried about him, and well beyond the usual concerns because of his, ah—”
“Tendency to stay silent, avoid conflict, and move like a wraith unless you pin him down and ask him direct questions?” Tanner offered, thorough and accurate to a fault.
“Exactly, sir.”
“Sounds like you want me to abet fraternization, Lieutenant. If you two are that desperate for each other’s company, why not just coordinate your respective leaves?”