Tyche's Flight (Tyche's Journey Book 1)

by Richard Parry

  So, these suits were supposed to slow all that down. The Republic thought of everything.

  They even thought of what would happen if you died, your last moments of terror, in a vacuum. On fire, after being shocked to death. If you were turned into some kind of burned-to-carbon flash-frozen horror, the suits carried implanted IDs, tech that would mark your name, rank, and serial number. El wanted to use one of those IDs to get a foothold into the ship’s systems. It was a long shot, but maybe the commander’s backup password really was ’password.’

  There was always a way in. Voice recognition couldn’t be relied on, because your throat might have been burned in a fire. Fingerprints might be gone in a machinery accident. But an ID? Given some time it might get them in. All they needed was a little luck.

  • • •

  He’d given the suit to El to wear. Turns out the commander had been smaller and female. El had put the suit on, led the way to the bridge, and got to work.

  Two hours had passed, and she was slumped over a console, head resting in her hand. They’d tried passwords, like cucumber and albatross and xylophone. They’d tried variations of the commander’s date of birth. They’d tried popular holo stars born around that time, and then ones who performed when she would have been a teenager. They’d tried the name of the ship. Then they’d started on passphrases, and then El had said she wanted a break.

  “Try one more,” said Nate.

  “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains,” said El, not looking up.

  Nate typed it out. The console gave a flat blare. INCORRECT. He looked at the word — the same word he’d seen what felt like ten thousand times over the last couple hours — and felt a flare of anger. “Goddamn it!” He slammed his fist on the console. “We just want a break. Is it too much to ask? One tiny, small, sliver of—”

  “Gladiator, this is Absalom Delta. Come in Gladiator. Do you copy?” It was the console, the comm light flashing. An incoming transmission. From the planet.

  Just a little bit of luck.

  Nate blinked at the console, then grinned at El. “Hey. Hey hey. Luck.”

  “Gladiator, this is Absalom. Do you read me?” The voice was male, talking a little too fast. Inexperienced with the comms? In trouble? No surprises he was feeling some pressure. Hell, everyone was most likely dead, and that would change your world view.

  Nate clicked the comm controls. “Absalom, this is Gladiator. Kinda.”

  There was a pause. “Kind of?”

  “Kinda, yeah,” said Nate. “This is Captain Nathan Chevell of the free trader Tyche. We’re—”

  “Great, great. Captain. We don’t have time for the usual spiel. What’s the state of the Gladiator?” Nate had been wrong: the voice wasn’t afraid, just terse. Might be a man used to being in charge, stuck in a place where there was no one to be in charge of anymore.

  “Uh.” Nate looked around the bridge. El, now sitting upright but still tired. Kohl on the floor, by all appearances asleep. The empty acceleration couches. Careful, Nate. The man at the end of this line could be responsible for all this. “It’s complicated,” he said.

  “I was afraid of that,” said the man, “and I admire your discretion. Captain, this is Rear Admirable Melvin Penn. I’m conscripting you and your crew to bring your ship to this planet within the hour and evac me.”

  Rear Admiral. Nate looked at the comm. “Penn? Penn. We’re going to have a small problem with that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hell, now,” said Nate, “let’s not get off on the wrong foot. But we’ve got problems of our own. Our ship, she’s hurt bad. We’re a good six hours away from being flight ready. And last time we tried to do something up here, the Gladiator fired on my crew.”

  “You tried to start the Bridge,” said Penn. “I know. I saw it. That was under my orders.”

  “You tried to blow up my crew?”

  “I ordered contingencies to stop unauthorized egress from the Absalom system.”

  “You’ll kill anyone who tries to leave,” said Nate.

  “Unauthorized persons,” said Penn. “Captain? We don’t have a lot of time. I’m holed up in an air duct. They’re trying to find me. Always trying to find me. I need … it’s vital to the safety of our species you come to Absalom and get me. I’ll unlock the Gladiator from here. Give me your transponder, and you won’t be fired on.”

  “Wait,” said Nate. “Who’s trying to find you? And what do you mean, ’won’t be fired on?’”

  “There’s very little time,” said Penn. “But I mean the Gladiator is set to fire on anyone who approaches or leaves the planet.”

  Nate looked at El, made an O with his mouth. “And what do you mean by ’them?’ Who’s down there with you?”

  There was a pause on the comm, then Penn said, “Everyone, of course. Everyone else.”

  • • •

  Nate tightened the straps on the dropship’s acceleration couch. He gave a glance to Grace, who sat at his side. Face still pale, but firm. She’d found something hard and strong in the medbay, something that put iron in her stride and made her forget the pain of her shoulder. Which is what he needed. It’s what they all needed. Kohl was behind them in the dropship’s hold, armored up. He’d collected a rotary laser from the Gladiator’s armory, an ostentatious weapon that only Kohl could use with a straight face. Or lift, because it was designed to be mounted on a tripod. He’d found it, said something like ’everyone’ means we need a lot of firepower, and had gone to sit in the hold with a happy expression.

  Hope was still working on the Tyche. He’d looked her in the eye and said you make my ship fly again and she’d just hugged him and said you try not to die. El had frowned at that, gave him a salute, and said she’d come get them as long as there’s not too much fire going in your direction.

  The dropship backed out of the bay, Nate’s hands on the sticks. He wasn’t a pilot as good as El, but good enough for a simple drop. He turned the ship, hoping that Penn had been true to his word and told the Gladiator not to fire. After Penn had unlocked the remaining bridge controls, standing the ship down, they’d seen how much automated combat the Gladiator had done. And it was a lot, most of her torpedo bays for ship to ship combat empty. A lot of use of lasers. People had, what, tried to flee Absalom? Land on it? It wasn’t clear. Penn hadn’t trusted them with any of the Gladiator’s mission details — need to know — but the ship’s inventory had been worked hard.

  Whatever was going on to whomever was involved, they were not fucking around.

  The dropship kicked hard as he pushed the acceleration into the red. “Here goes nothing,” he said.

  “It’s better to be in a chair for this,” said Grace. “Last time … anyway. It’s better with a chair.”

  “Grace,” said Nate. “You seem to be good with people.”

  She gave a half-laugh, half-something-else, none of it happy. “It’s … useful.”

  “Penn,” said Nate, “will kill us all and leave us to die.”

  “I figure the same thing,” she said. “What I’m not sure about is why we’re going down to get him.”

  The dropship trembled as they touched atmosphere. The windows of the shuttle were bathed in red, orange and white as they burned a bright streak towards the planet’s surface. Nate watched it for a minute before he spoke. “I’m not a great supporter of the Republic.”

  “What with all the flag-waving and cheering, I’d never have guessed,” said Grace.

  “There’s a few things we see eye to eye on,” said Nate. “But they killed a good man once. A … friend of mine. I know how they work. I know what they are.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why we’re going down to get one of their head assholes out,” said Grace. “To my mind, it makes this more confusing.”

  “The Republic used to be the Empire,” said Nate. “The Old Empire. Same people, you see? Just different assholes in charge. If there’s people down there, we need to get them out.” He thought of the
emptiness of the Gladiator. “If the people on that crust are trying to kill Penn, I want to know why.”

  “There’s no bonus in it,” said Grace, looking out the window.

  “For me, there is,” said Nate. But he wasn’t sure if it was true. Not anymore. He hadn’t worn the Emperor’s Black for a long time. Since he lost his hand — at least he got to keep the sword — he’d not felt like the people in charge much wanted his help. That was fine, but … but. “Grace, there’s a whole planet of people here. They’re not in charge of anything. We … just need to make sure they’re here for the right reasons.”

  “If they’re not?” she turned, eyes searching his face. “You don’t strike me as a man into politics, Nate. What, you got your hand torn off because you believed in something, and now you’re angry about it. No, don’t interrupt. I can see it in your face. It comes off you in waves. It’s in this crew you’ve got. The Helm who can’t cut it in the Republic’s Navy. But good enough for your fleet. The thug who doesn’t take orders from anyone in charge. Sometimes not even you. The Engineer whose lover left her bankrupt and on the run from Republic justice. But you’ve given her safe harbor.” She turned away from him. “I’m good with people,” she said. “I’m very good with people.”

  “How do you know about Hope?” said Nate.

  “I’m good with systems too,” she said. “I need to know about where I crew.”

  “Why?” said Nate. “Person with your talents should be able to find a home on any boat. Why my crew?”

  Grace turned back to him, something nasty in her voice. But nasty at him or her, he couldn’t tell. “Because I need you. Because you need me. All there is to it.”

  “That’s not all there is to it,” said Nate. “Who are you, Grace Gushiken?”

  “Just an Assessor,” said Grace, and Nate could feel the lie this time.

  • • •

  The dropship scudded over the surface of the water under Nate’s guidance. They were approaching the dock from the sea. Absalom was beautiful, the water a clear blue, the clouds puffs of white cotton in the sky above them. He could see the land as they approached, green and lush and vibrant. A paradise at the edge of Republic space, open for all colonists who wanted a fresh start on a clean planet.

  He gave the thrusters a blast as they came in, bringing the belly of the ship in at an angle, then settling it down flat on the landing pad. “I would say,” said Nate, “that this is the weirdest spaceport I’ve ever seen.”

  Kohl was already up and at his shoulder, looking out through the cockpit. “Where the fuck is everybody?”

  “There’s no one here,” said Grace. He brow furrowed. “There’s … no one here.”

  The comm had stayed silent as they were on approach, Nate’s attempts to hail the planet failing. There was no one there, or no one cared to speak to them. Either way, they may as well have been the only humans out here on the edge of humanity’s reach. He ran a hand through his hair, then said, “Well, hell with it. Let’s go find Penn.”

  The doors of the dropship opened to sweet, sweet air. So clean. None of the smell of human industry — no ozone, no chemicals, nothing burning. Quiet. There was a light breeze, but no noise carried on it. A bird hovered in the air, slipstreaming and happy. “This looks like paradise,” said Nate, “so why is my skin crawling?”

  “General vibe,” said Kohl. He hopped past Nate and landed on the landing pad with a clank of power armor. “Like, because everyone is dead everywhere we’ve been in the past three days, so you know. General vibe.”

  “You’re saying it’s me,” said Nate. “Are you saying it’s me?”

  “Maybe,” said Kohl. He squinted at Nate. “You keep promising pirates to shoot, but you’re not delivering, Cap. You hear me?”

  “Sorry,” said Nate, stepping down. Goddamn but 1.1G feels heavier than it should. On a good day — not too much booze that week — he sauntered around at 85kgs in Earth’s standard 1G. Here, that felt closer to 95kg. He was glad he’d only packed his blaster, strapped at his side. No sword. Probably won’t use that damn thing ever again. Grace followed him down. Nate turned back to the dropship, closed the lock, and coded it with their IDs. He didn’t want someone stealing their only ride out, because there weren’t any other ships here at the spaceport. Not one. Not a dropship, not a shuttle, not a lifter. Zero ships. Which wasn’t a good sign for a spaceport, as it left it without purpose. He tapped on the console at his wrist. “Okay, here we are.” The holo spun in the air between them, a map laid out between the space port and the admin center. “Penn says he’s in there. Got the thing locked up tight. I say it looks like five klicks of walking, we grab the Rear Admiral, and take off. If our luck holds a little longer … well. What could go wrong?”

  Grace shrugged, sliding her sword behind her, and walked off. Kohl made a noise that sounded like an idling engine, then set off after her.

  At least Penn had promised a heavy bonus for this. If they could avoid him spacing them and get paid, this trip might end up being profitable for them all.

  Like he’d said. What could go wrong?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “It’s too hot,” said Kohl, rumbling along ahead of them. That rotary laser was locked behind him, the automount holding it out of the way, a backpack full of angry wasps should the situation arise. His power armor clanked and whined as he moved. Sweat and a surly expression vied for dominance on Kohl’s face.

  “You’re just fat and heavy,” said Nate, at Grace’s side. She hid a smile. Don’t engage. Don’t be with them. Be the eye of the storm. She didn’t need her visor down. Grace was used to this dance; she knew this music. She just needed a way out. A new crew to join.

  It wasn’t looking good, though. Where was everyone? Penn had said people were after him, but this place was like an empty set before the holo started shooting.

  Or an empty set, after the shooting was over.

  Say what you will about Kohl, but the man wasn’t fat. He looked solid, like a piece of concrete. Drop him in the ocean and he’d sink like a stone. Grace felt the heat of the day already, the heavier than normal gravity doing her no favors. Too much time on a ship, not enough time in the exercise room. Kohl walked through it like none of it touched him at all; not the extra Gs, not the laser, and not the rising heat of the day.

  Her hand found the hilt of her sword. She winced, her shoulder giving her an ungentle stab of pain as she moved. That’s not good.

  What really was not good was the lack of people. She couldn’t feel anyone. Not any anger. Not any fear. No petty jealousies, no egos, no one trying to put one over on anyone else. If she didn’t have the touch of uncertainty caressing her spine, giving her shivers through the sweat, she’d have thought this was paradise.

  Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace.

  She whirled, hand still on the hilt of her sword. No one. Not one soul in front of the place that looked like it sold cold ice cream on a hot day. Not a standing, breathing human in the med center, not injured, not healthy, just not there. A casino stood with a door ajar, holos promising a jackpot every day, except there wasn’t anyone there to win.

  “You okay?” Nate’s hand was on her arm. She looked at it, and he pulled it away. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re good,” she said. It wasn’t his metal hand, and it had felt … nice.

  No. It hadn’t felt nice. You’re not with this crew. You are Grace Gushiken, and you walk alone.

  “See something?” said Kohl, turning in place. Taking in the empty buildings, the shops devoid of customers. Empty cars.

  “I … no,” she said. “I … thought. I thought I heard something.” Grace ran a hand over her face. It came away wet with sweat. The extra weight and the heat was getting to her; what should have been a warm summer’s day was a hot workout. “I … want to hear something.”

  “Yeah,” said Nate.

  Ahead of them, a bus sat in the road. It was empty, but the door was open at the front. It was stretched long and thi
n, solar collectors making the exterior gold and shiny. On a hunch, she entered, the shade promising a little respite from the sun.

  The bus was a standard auto, no pilot’s chair, just seats aisle along the aisle. Holos shimmered on the walls, ads for products that would make you … whatever you wanted. The lighting strips in the bus were out, the interior painted by shifting colors of reds, blues, whites, greens from the holos. It was empty, but it wasn’t unscathed. The first seats she saw were rent, memory foam and material shredded. A faint muddy stain that might have been blood. Hard to tell with the shifting, muted lighting. She walked further into the bus. Grace’s gaze settled on a scrap of golden color, and she bent to pick it up.

  A child’s toy, a small lion with a happy tongue and a fluffy mane. Dropped, lost, left here in this bus. She put the toy down, looked at other seats. More belongings: clutches, satchels, bags, a coat. There, a paper bag full of rotting vegetables. This bus had been carrying people, and those people were gone. Like they’d been sucked from the surface of Absalom and … just taken.

  She heard a scream behind her and spun. A woman, ravening, eyes wide, spittle coating her chin. Mad, desperate eyes. Not crazy, but hungry and afraid. Hands curled into claws, reaching for Grace’s face. Grace dropped into a crouch, iaido making her motion fluid. One perfect strike. Her sword cleared the scabbard, as perfect a sayabiki as she could manage in the cramped bus giving her strike speed, her sword cutting out and up, finishing its motion exactly where she wanted it to. The seats of the bus to her left were sheared through by the blade, toppling to the floor.

  Other than that, she cut nothing but air. The woman was gone, like she’d never been.