Orphans In the Black: A Space Opera Anthology

by Amy J. Murphy

  Having won the medal opened several doors for Emlee. The most important one was that of the station director. He had become wary of the growing climate of unhappiness in the station's construct population, and asked her what needed to be done to stop a Goldline-type disturbance from developing at Iovis-X.

  So Emlee asked to have included in the contract a number of things that constructs never had: leave, the right to live with a partner and the right to study and apply for jobs.

  The station director heard that she had wanted to study at Ganymede University. He contacted some people and told her to reapply and told her that if she was refused, contact him again.

  But Emlee's first-ever trip off the station is a story to be told another time.

  ~FIN~

  Patty Jansen is an author of science fiction and fantasy. She is author of the Space Agent Jonathan Bartel sci-fi mysteries, Ambassador series, and Moonfire epic fantasy series, among others.

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  VOID MAGE

  A SHORT STORY IN THE VOID WRAITH UNIVERSE

  By Chris Fox

  ABOUT VOID MAGE

  The gods are dead, but they are not gone. Their bodies lurk in forgotten corners of the void, waiting for those with the will to claim their strength. Like it or not, I’m about to try.

  CARGO HOLD

  I raised my chin from my chest, glancing around groggily. Thought came reluctantly, each purchased with a great deal of effort. Where was I?

  A man sat on my left, a woman on my right. Glowing blue manacles bound my wrists together, and I wore the same simple white garments as my neighbors. We were part of a row of people, and there was another row in front of us. Before us lay a blue membrane, its slightly warped surface showing a star field beyond it.

  So a cargo hold then, for a medium sized starship given the size of the room. I shook my head again to clear it, and it was a mistake. A spike shot from one temple to the other.

  "The pain will pass soon," the woman next to me whispered.

  I shifted to face her, slowly this time. She was pretty, with long, dark hair and light blue eyes. Older than me, by a few years. Her hands were folded in her lap. "You're not wearing manacles. Why aren't you bound?"

  The question seemed to catch her off guard, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. Her cheeks heated. "I'm a debt slave. If I survive the catalization, my time will be reduced by two thirds. I'll be free in just two years."

  "Catalization?" I asked. The other questions piled up behind it, and I had to restrain myself from asking them all at once.

  "Do you see that?" she asked, pointing a slender finger at the membrane. I peered through it, trying to make out what she was indicating.

  A large dark blob grew slowly larger. Twin pools of hellish purple might be eyes, and below them lay thousands of spiky teeth. "What is that thing?"

  "That is the Skull of Xal. It's a catalyst." She infused that last word with a great deal of reverence. "A catalyst is the body of a dead god. Those bold enough can rip power from their bodies. Do it enough times, and you could become a god yourself."

  "Then why do they have to force us to go to this...catalyst? Wouldn't people jump at the chance to get power like that?" I raised my manacles to show her I was bound.

  "Because journeying to a catalyst carries many dangers. Their divine power draws primals, and the energies of the catalyst shape them into a form that the god would have found pleasing. In the case of the Skull of Xal, that means demons. Not just any demons, either. Xal was a builder. These are techno-demons," she explained, staring through the membrane as she brushed a lock of hair from her face. "That isn't the only danger. If we survive the demons, we'll peer into the mind of the god itself. We'll see what it sees, and not every mind can survive it. Many will be burned out, like a spell-drive pushed past limit."

  "Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to that. I looked around again, this time at the people behind me too. Almost everyone was bound, but a few had their hands free, like the woman next to me. I turned to her. "What's your name?"

  "I'm Nara. What's yours?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously when she asked the question. Not in a flirtatious way, but like a child who'd just done something wicked.

  "I—." What was my name? "I don't know. The last thing I remember is—. I can't remember anything before waking up here." My chest tightened, and I couldn't breathe. I fought the urge to stand up and run. There was nowhere to run to. Where could I go? I didn't even know who I was.

  "Nor can any of the others, most likely. The slavers mind wiped you. It's a powerful spell, and casting it on this many people means either several mages, or one archmage." She sounded like she envied the archmage.

  "If we live, what happens to us then? You called them slavers," I asked, grateful not only for the information, but as a distraction from the moon-sized skull floating outside the membrane. It continued to grow as we'd spoken, and now dominated the view. It was even more terrifying up close. Thick, black horns curled out from points on either temple, and the hellish glow was most definitely eyes.

  The head slowly rotated, an asteroid the size of their ship careening off a horn. The rock exploded, the horn untouched by the impact. What had been powerful enough to kill something like this?

  "If you survive, you'll become god-marked. The slavers will sell you at market, and whoever purchases you will probably have you trained for combat. The Skull is a void catalyst. The energies it imbues will be of a destructive nature, easily bent to battle magic," Nara explained. She licked her lips, staring at the skull hungrily.

  The ship shuddered as the spell-drive disengaged. We drifted toward one of the eyes, the hellish glow drowning out the stars around us. The ship slowly descended into the socket, finally coming to rest against the bony ridges of the inner eye.

  A hatch opened behind us, and I twisted to see guards coming into the room. They filed to the edges of a catwalk, guarding two narrow stairwells that led down to a cargo bay. Each guard carried a spell-rifle, meaning they had at least some magical ability.

  Behind them strode a tall slender man carrying a spell-stave loosely in one hand. He wore jet black environmental armor, a stylized helm clutched under his free arm. One eye had been replaced with a glittering ruby, and his bald skull had been oiled to a mirrored sheen.

  He handed his helmet to one of the guards, then leaned on the railing of the catwalk above. "Good morning, everyone. My name is Baldus. You'll have to forgive the theatrics, but they were necessary." Baldus smiled, a friendly, grandfatherly smile. "I have bad news, I'm afraid. Odds are good that in a very little while you will be dead. A handful might survive, but no more than that."

  INTO THE EYE

  "Seriously?" I whispered to Nara. "His name is Baldus. I mean, come on." Nara shot me a brief glare.

  "Not into puns, then." I sighed, glancing at the people around me, finding a mixture of fear and resignation. These people weren't ready to fight. They were scared and confused, panicked animals with nowhere to run.

  Why wasn't I? I didn't know. I felt precisely zero fear, only a calm detachment.

  How was I going to escape? Rushing the guards was out. Their spell-rifles were covered in scarlet runes, each attuned to the wielder. At least their armor was un-enhanced, just the usual run of the mill environmental suit. It might stop a bullet, but it would do nothing to prevent a void bolt.

  "In a moment," the archmage began, the lights gleaming off his bare skull. "I will cast a ritual far greater than any of you have ever witnessed. I will seal Xal's ocular cavity behind us, creating a breathable atmosphere. The membrane will lower, and you must make a choice. Do you fight your captors?" The archmage waved absently at the guards, who snapped their rifles to their shoulders. "Or do you take your chances with the catalyst? Either way, you'll probably die. But your chances of living are slightly higher if you choose
the catalyst. And, if you succeed, you'll gain power. Perhaps enough power to free yourself. Consider carefully."

  The archmage turned back to the guard holding his helmet, yanking it away and placing it over his head. He placed both hands on his spell-stave, sigils along its surface beginning to glow with soft green light. There were no words, no obvious gestures. It was nothing at all like the stories. Instead, it was one man straining to harness the forces of the gods.

  "Enjoy your power while you can, you smug bastard," Nara whispered hatefully. I glanced sidelong at her. Her eyes glittered, fixed on the archmage with the kind of intensity that made me glad I wasn't the subject of her ire.

  Two more guards came through the door above the catwalk, carrying a large crate. They labored under the weight, dragging it down the stairs toward the middle of the room. They passed between rows of slaves, who shrank away, hoping not to be noticed.

  The guards dropped the crate with a heavy thunk, then flipped open the lid. I rose slowly to my feet, realizing I was taller than most of the people around me. I stood on my tip-toes, craning my neck to get a glimpse in the box.

  "It's full of weapons," Nara whispered.

  I didn't ask how she knew. It didn't matter. What did was getting one. I pushed forward, threading between timid slaves. By the time I arrived a broad shouldered man with a thick black beard had reached into the box and withdrawn a spell-blade. He looked at the long slender weapon with distaste, dropping it as he turned back to the box.

  I darted forward, scooping the blade up before it hit the ground. Another slave had the same idea, and wrapped a hand around mine. My elbow shot back, almost of its own accord, catching the slave in the neck with a sickening crunch. He stumbled back choking, and I moved quickly away.

  Slaves were mobbing the box now that they realized what it contained. I backpedaled away from everyone, holding the blade lightly in one hand. The weight was off, the blade about two inches longer than I'd prefer.

  I gave an experimental slash, testing it. The weapon was a simple cutlass, with a metal hand guard, and a thick, chopping blade. Slower, and definitely less elegant than I was used to. How I knew that was unclear. I could recall no specific memory of owning or using a spell-blade, but I was positive I had.

  "It looks like you know how to use that," Nara said, sidling up to me. We stood against the wall, not far from the membrane. "Stick with me when the barrier goes down. Maybe we can keep each other alive."

  "All right," I said, nodding. I didn't trust Nara, despite the beautiful face, and doe eyes. She appeared innocent, but I'd already seen that mask slip. Maybe she had a reason for that kind of hatred, but reason or not it would change her...and not for the better.

  Something stirred restlessly inside of me, still slumbering but at the edge of wakefulness. Magic, I realized. Was I a mage, then? If so, which kind? What Aspects had I mastered? I suppose it didn't matter, not if I couldn't use any of the spells I'd learned. It was hard not to be curious though.

  Nara's gaze shot up to the catwalk, and mine followed. Wisps of purple and green light were gathering around Baldus, dashes of pale white joining them a moment later. The energy built and built until it obscured the archmage. Finally, it burst out, dispersing in a silent explosion.

  At first, I couldn't tell what was different. Then I realized that the membrane sealing the cargo bay was gone. I could see directly inside the catalyst. Ahead lay a field of bleached hills, the porous bone looking more like rock than the remains of a living creature.

  Behind it was a purple sun, blinding if I looked directly at it. That would make fighting difficult, giving the advantage to whoever had their back toward the glow.

  Suddenly, the chain between the manacles disappeared. They were still on my wrists, but I could move freely again.

  "Choose now mongrels," one of the guards roared. "Move, or be cut down where you stand."

  I tightened my grip on my blade, stepping out of the ship and into the catalyst. Then I moved quietly off to the side. It had the desired effect. Now that I'd moved outside the ship, others were as well. I had no desire to be the first to brave the glow, but thankfully the black-bearded man had no such reservations. He strode forward, a spell-stave clutched in both hands like a club.

  Three dozen slaves moved cautiously behind him. Before I followed, I took a moment to study the ship we'd arrived in. It was a long, sleek wedge, the dark surface covered in spell runes. Spellships were much more expensive to maintain than a traditional starship, but they were also capable of warping on their own. Whoever led this expedition had money.

  "We should follow them," Nara said. I whirled to face her.

  "How did you get behind me?" I demanded. I should have seen her, caught some sign of movement.

  "Does it matter? Come on, let's stick with the others." She followed the mass of slaves toward the glow.

  DEMONS

  I followed Nara over another bony ridge, pausing to watch the front rank of prisoners. I could only make out silhouettes, dark shapes against the blinding purple glow. The temperature had dropped sharply, and I shivered violently despite the exertion.

  "Come on. Stick close to me," Nara urged, nodding after the others. She started trotting behind them, but circled wide until they reached the point where the ocular cavity sloped upwards.

  She wasn't the only one heading in that direction. Five or six others clung to the wall, moving slower than everyone else.

  "Why are we hanging back?" I asked through clenched teeth. I rubbed my hands together furiously, to no avail. She clearly knew something I didn't, and the others knew it too. After a moment I realized none of the others was wearing manacles, only me.

  "Watch," Nara whispered back, crouching behind a bone outcrop.

  I crouched next to her, laying against the rock. It sucked away whatever warmth hadn't already been stolen, but I forced myself not to move, not even to shiver. Dread washed over me, as palpable and numbing as an ocean tide. Something terrible was coming.

  More silhouettes appeared, these further back than the slaves. Those silhouettes were misshapen, and much taller. Metal clanked with every step, and I remembered Nara had called these techno demons.

  Words in an unfamiliar language echoed up the hallway, a harsh guttural tongue. Then a flurry of void bolts shot into the slaves. The bolts weren't precisely black. They were the complete absence of light, or energy, a gap in space. I winced knowing what a void bolt could to do an unarmored man. A half dozen slaves dropped with agonizing cries, the closest no more than forty feet away. Everything from the waist up had simply ceased to exist.

  "Run," Nara barked. She turned to face the slaves, extending a spell-dagger. I felt the power stir in her, growing into a green and white nimbus around her blade. The energy discharged from the tip, splitting into a dozen bolts. Each bolt slammed into a slave, and those slaves began to grow.

  By the time I took my next step they were half again as large as a man. By the third they were the same height as the demons. Some slaves turned to run, but most charged the enemy, knowing the only way forward was through their enemies. Dark spots danced in my vision, making seeing either friend, or foe, impossible. It was just too bright.

  Nara and the other debt-slaves sprinted past both demons and slaves, ignoring everything but the ever growing light. I stumbled urgently forward, forcing my legs to pump faster. I vaulted a man who tripped in front of me, staggering as I landed. I ran for all I was worth, ignoring the growing cold as I approached the light.

  I risked a glance over my shoulder. Some of the demons had turned back in my direction. One raised a spell-rifle with six barrels, and a large scope on the top.

  The demon roared, the barrels of its rifle beginning to spin. I dove to the right, dodging a hail of void bolts that disappeared over my shoulder. My spell-blade shot up, knocking a bolt aside as I dove again. I sprinted forward, reaching for something inside me, something eager to be used. Lightning crackled down my blade, power surging from me into
the weapon.

  I brought the cutlass down in a sharp slash, one I knew the demon would block. It didn't disappoint. The demon raised a wide forearm, blocking the blade. The stored lightning shot up the demon's arm, crackling through its entire body. It convulsed, unable to defend itself. I decapitated it with a yell.

  Another demon approached, this one wearing a set of heavily modified spell-armor. It aimed its spell-cannon in my direction, firing another spray of void bolts. I somersaulted under them, then rolled to my feet. More demons were coming.

  I turned and dove into the light.

  ENLIGHTENMENT

  I had no words to describe what came next. A vast, unknowable consciousness lay before me. An ocean of power and memory, to my single drop. I fell into the ocean, became that consciousness. The universe stretched out before me.

  I understood how the worlds had been created, how the stars were given form. I witnessed the making of all things, from the perspective of a god who'd not just seen, but had participated. Xal was not the oldest of gods, but he was among them.

  Understanding stretched beyond the comprehension of time. I saw the strands of the universe, how they were woven into fabric using magic. I understood the eight Aspects, and the greater paths that could be accessed by combining them.

  This power suffused me, endless, like space itself. If I wished, I could create a new species, or snuff one out with equal ease. Dimly, I was aware that I had a body. Aware of my petty temporal problems. They were inconsequential when compared with the vast infinity of Xal.

  Yet in my sudden understanding I also saw his undoing. I saw him attacked by a pantheon of younger gods, ambushed in the midst of his greatest work. I watched him defend against their assault, each side utilizing impossibly complex sorcery.