by Chris Fox
“Respectfully, ma’am, I ain’t in yer confederate outfit. I’m here to fix the ship.” He closed his laptop and rose with a stretch. “’Sides, if I didn’t refer to you proper my ma would know. She can sense stuff like that.”
“Your mother possesses magical abilities?” Voria asked, mildly surprised.
“Uh, no, ma’am.” He grinned at her sheepishly as he set his laptop down next to his ancient co-pilot’s chair. “She ain’t been to a Catalyst so far as I know, but she’s got her ways is all.”
“I’m sure she does.” Voria shook her head with a smile, then waved her hand. The bridge rippled, a stone tossed into a pond. When the ripples cleared, the bridge had become the Wyrm Hunter. “I hope you don’t mind, but I prefer something a bit more sentimental.”
She ducked inside the command matrix, a half smile curving her mouth as the rings rotated around her. The soft hum was, well, it was home.
“You know you don’t need to actually use that matrix,” Ikadra pointed out.
“I know, but I rather enjoy it.” Voria tapped the void sigil on each ring, in quick succession. “Pickus, I’m relying on you to establish a connection to Ternus when we emerge from the Fissure.”
Void magic rolled from her in waves, disappearing into her illusionary matrix, but fueling the ship in a real way. The spell began to manifest, and the unrelieved black was suddenly split by a violent crack, one that quickly widened into an opening back to the world of Ternus.
Pickus fished out his pocket comm and thumbed the screen. A moment later, the scry-screen shifted to show a connecting sigil with the familiar stylized T used by the Ternus government. Several moments later, the screen resolved into a uniformed officer—a fleet admiral, by the five bars on his shoulder. It took her a moment to realize that she recognized the man.
“Hello, Admiral Kerr, though I guess that title isn’t applicable any longer.” Another weight lifted. They’d sent a friendly face for her to deal with.
Kerr’s weathered face darkened. “A lot has changed since we last spoke, Major. Though I guess that title isn’t accurate anymore either, as I understand it. How should I address you?”
That was an excellent question, yet over the several sleepless nights she’d not once considered it. What was her appropriate title now? She cocked her head. “Let’s go with Colonel. That’s enough to command a regiment, and that’s what I’m bringing to the field. Though, to be fair, that regiment is rather…unconventional.”
Kerr shook his head in amusement. “With you it always is, but I’m not gonna complain, Colonel. You saved our bacon at Marid, and got me a promotion to boot. It’s fleet admiral now.” He removed his cap and set it somewhere off screen, then scrubbed his fingers through greying hair. “Unfortunately, the political situation here isn’t great. It ain’t as bad as Marid. I’m certain Governor Austin hasn’t been bound, but he’s enough trouble as it is.”
Voria squared her shoulders as an imaginary weight settled back over her shoulders. “Gods save us from politicians. We’re awfully vulnerable here in the depths, Fleet Admiral. May we enter the Ternus system?”
“Permission granted, Colonel. I’ll have flight instructions sent to your vessel, and we can meet in person at your earliest convenience.” The fleet admiral paused. “If I could offer a bit of advice, unsolicited like, try to keep your temper in check when you meet the governor, Colonel.”
She gave a wry smile. “I make no promises, Admiral.”
33
Wait and See
Voria wasn’t certain what to expect when she guided the First Spellship into Ternus space. The Fissure snapped shut behind her, and the scry-screen now displayed a dazzling array of weaponry, all pointed in their direction. Countless gauss rifles bristled on dozens of orbital stations, which formed a perfect sphere around the planet’s umbral shadow.
“One moment, uh, Colonel,” Pickus muttered as his eyes ceaselessly scanned the computer screen. “There we go. We’re not yet authorized to move forward, not until they complete their scans.”
“What kind of scans, precisely?” Voria drummed her fingers on the stabilizing ring. Despite having served the Confederacy for decades, she’d never been to Ternus, and the place unnerved her. The idea of so much technology seemed so…cold, and devoid of life.
Even from this distance she could see that the world was covered in massive, concentric rings. Cities. Continent-sized cities. No part of the world had escaped, at least none she could see from orbit.
Pickus withdrew a toothpick from his pocket and rolled it between two fingers. His eyes never left the screen. “They’re running a broad-spectrum analysis, but beyond that I can’t rightly say.”
Voria shivered. Something prickled along the skin of the First Spellship, and her link to the vessel conveyed the feeling. “They’re doing something magical as well.”
Ikadra’s sapphire flashed, and he thrummed in her grip. “I sense fire, mostly. I thought these guys were all anti-magic and stuff?”
Voria considered that as the scan completed. “They’ve got that reputation, but I’ve always wondered. Ternus has a lot of money, and the Inuran Consortium is happy to sell all sorts of magitech if the price is right. I suspect it was a wise investment.”
“They just gave us the all clear sir. We’ve been given a course to the nadir point of the planet, over the southern continent.” Pickus punched a few more buttons on his screen. “Apparently we’ll be docking with Alamo Station, where Governor Austin will receive you.”
“Acknowledged.” Voria willed the Spellship in that direction, and the vessel followed. Unlike with the Wyrm Hunter, piloting was not an ongoing task, unless she wished it to be. Now that the vessel understood where she wanted to go it would pick the most direct route to get there unless she modified the directive.
That gave her time to think. Pickus was blessedly silent, other than the clatter of his keyboard. So what would the coming days require of her? She’d come to help Ternus, but beyond bringing this ship she wasn’t sure what she could offer the war effort. She knew little of Nebiat’s plans or ultimate motivations. And that would make answering this Governor’s questions all the more difficult.
He’d want to know why she was here, instead of New Texas, and explaining that auguries and premonitions were why she’d chose not to assist probably wasn’t going to go over very well.
They circled the planet in high orbit, the sky around the planet lit with a lethal array of glittering stars, each a missile or drone platform like those she’d seen at previous battles. There were so many of them. Hundreds. More, perhaps. This world was a fortress, one even the Krox would be hard pressed to assault. One that couldn’t be easily bound or subverted through magical means.
They rapidly closed with the most impressive of the stations, this one affixed to a long metal tube extending up from the surface. “What is that…thing?”
“That’s a space elevator,” Pickus explained. “They use it to move men and material into orbit via lift. Different stations can dock with it, though I think Alamo Station’s been parked there for decades since most shipping takes place off world now.”
The Spellship maneuvered expertly around dozens of satellites, stations, and departing craft as they made their approach. Voria straightened her jacket, and took a moment to re-tie her hair into a tight bun. It would have to do. “Ikadra, teleport Pickus and I to the aft officers’ cargo bay, please.”
“Ooh, field trip!” Ikadra’s sapphire pulsed happily. Voria smiled. It was a welcome change.
There was a moment of vertigo, then she was standing in the cargo bay. She moved to the airlock membrane and waved a hand before it. The energy field winked out and exposed the docking tube that the station had extended. She walked briskly up the tube, noting the turrets installed every three meters.
Again she felt the prickling across her skin, a faint whiff of magical power as something in the tube scanned her. It pleased her to know that Ternus took magical security so serious
ly, and the fact that a world famed for their ignorance in all things arcane had much better security than Shaya, the undisputed magical master in the sector.
A door slid into the wall as they reached the end of the docking tube, and she spotted a quartet of Marines just beyond. They wore the standard olive uniforms, and each stood with relaxed readiness, their rifles cradled in both hands, ready to snap to their shoulders.
“Ma’am,” a blonde soldier called, “you’re expected at the forum. If you’ll follow me please. They’re waiting.”
“They?” She asked as she fell into step with the Marine. Pickus dropped a step behind her, assuming the role of an aide. That seemed to come readily to him, and she suspected he didn’t enjoy the kind of attention being an officer warranted.
“The subcommittee, ma’am.” The Marine set a brisk pace. He reminded her of a younger, more stern version of Davidson.
That sounded like the most Ternus thing she’d ever heard. A subcommittee? Really? She shook her head, but managed to contain the sigh. Goddess save her from bureaucrats.
The Marine led her down a long, circular corridor that snaked around the outer edge of the station. They passed more Marines at several check points, and she noted that every intersection had a pair of turrets. This place would be an absolute nightmare to assault, even for a Krox binder.
“Through here, ma’am.” The blonde Marine gave a polite nod at a pair of double doors flanked by more Marines. The doors slid open at her approach.
“Thank you for the escort,” she began, glancing at the bars on his uniform, “Lieutenant.”
He nodded again and she walked through the now open doors. The room she entered wasn’t at all what she expected. Every taste of bureaucracy on Shaya had left her wanting to shoot herself in the face. She could already tell this was different.
Seven men and women sat around a rectangular table, and all bore the weariness that accumulated from too little sleep over a prolonged period. A young man at the far side of the table rose, and Voria noted that each of the others eyed him deferentially before doing the same.
“Colonel Voria,” he called in a strong Ternus Drawl, “welcome to Alamo Station, and to Ternus. My name is Pierce Austin, duly elected governor of the Ternus Colony. I ain’t going to bother introducing the rest of these people, unless you feel the need.”
“I appreciate the expediency, Governor.” She walked to the table. “May I?” She nodded down at a seat.
“Of course.”
Voria set Ikadra in the air, and he used his own magic to keep himself aloft. She sat, and folded her arms on the table before her.
“As I understand it, you’re no longer a part of the confederacy. That right?” Austin—she couldn’t think of a boy that young as governor—undid the top button of his collar.
“That’s correct.” She shook her head sadly, toying with the edge of her sleeve. “Would that it were otherwise, but Tender Eros believes an attack is imminent. He refused to send aid to Ternus, our sworn allies. I had no choice but to break ranks and come with the forces I could muster.”
Fleet Admiral Kerr gave a tired smile. “We’re grateful for that, Major. The Hunter arrived at New Texas this morning and, as I understand it, made quite the stir by inserting a company of tech mages into Fort Crockett. You’ve no idea what that’s done for our morale. My people see the Krox as unstoppable machines, and fear that our only recourse is to give up this space and flee for a new world. Some have already done exactly that.”
“Kerr,” Austin interjected, “if we’re quite finished fluffing the Colonel’s ego, perhaps we could get back on task? Colonel, we’re grateful for your help, but the question I want answered is why are you here? Why didn’t you accompany Davidson to New Texas? You’ve seen our defenses. Our world is hardly at risk, but New Texas is about to fall.”
In that moment Voria understood why Kerr worried about her reaction to the man. Thankfully, her ego wasn’t so fragile that she couldn’t handle being challenged. This part, at least, she’d been prepared for. She glanced over her shoulder at Pickus. “Can you transmit the sector map I was working on?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Pickus didn’t even look up from his comm, but a moment later, a hologram sprang up over the table. It showed the sector with an overlay of Krox attack waves.
“I’ve had a great deal of time to ponder the Krox strategy. As you can see every recent battle is charted here, complete with the estimated cost to the Krox forces.” She rose and moved to stand near the hologram. “Notice that while the Krox have hit Marid, Danton, Starn, and Vakera, they’ve left Colony 3 completely untouched. This despite the fact that it is quite clearly in their invasion path.”
“It doesn’t wash.” Austin rose, too, and leaned in to inspect the hologram. “Colony 3 represents most of the sector’s food supply. If the Krox wiped out that world we’d have shortages all over the sector in a matter of months. In a year. at least a half dozen new colonies would starve.”
“Precisely my thought, which is why I came here. I believe that New Texas, while a legitimate target in its own right, is not Nebiat’s true goal.” She turned her attention to Austin. “Make no mistake, Governor. The Krox have only just begun. They will hit you hard, and they’ll do it where you least expect it. Soon. When they do, I want to be in a position to respond with all the force I can muster.”
34
Breadcrumbs to a God
Kazon looked instinctively over his shoulder, but anyone with the magical clout to slip past the wards on his quarters could no doubt cloak themselves from his sight. There was nothing in the shadows there by the bookshelf. That was his imagination.
He waved a hand and a soft, white glow emanated from the ceiling, dispelling the shadows. But it also exposed the walls of his quarters, which were made from the same oily metal as the rest of the ship. When he’d first been given the ship he’d thought it futuristic somehow. Powerful.
Now it had become a coffin, somehow claustrophobic despite being spacious.
He knew he was close to answers, but the closer he got, the more he realized that Skare couldn’t allow him to live, if Kazon somehow discovered the secret to this metal.
And then there was the mystery surrounding Inura. Kazon could find no mention of the god’s death, but also no mention of his direct involvement at any time in the last two millennia. For that entire time, the Consortium had grown and prospered, but Kazon couldn’t help but wonder. Was their founder still alive and guiding the organization? And how could he learn more? Every lead he’d chased so far had gone cold.
Still, it was enough that he felt it prudent to express his concerns to those allies who might be able to do something about it. He sat in the chair behind the desk and tapped a missive on the scry-screen. Kazon couldn’t cast one himself, but the screen drew the magic from an assistant who possessed fire magic.
“What is it, brother?” Voria’s prim face filled the screen, and, as usual, she had a harried look to her. She stood on the bridge of her new ship, which gleamed behind her.
“I know you are at war, sister,” he began, attempting to collect his thoughts. “I will keep this brief. Mother has been compromised. Her behavior has become…erratic.”
“Erratic? What do you mean erratic?” Voria asked with that faintly bored tone he’d come to expect. She glanced to the side, then lowered her voice. “She’s always erratic.”
Kazon shook his head. “Not in the usual ways. She’s focused. Driven. And she is working hand in glove with Skare, but they won’t tell the board what they’re working on.”
Voria eyed him critically for a long moment before she finally spoke. “I know you wouldn’t bother me with trivialities, but I’m not hearing anything worthy of special note.”
It occurred to him he was going about this all wrong. Voria was an agent of long-dead gods, their instrument in all this. He should have led with this.
“I have begun this badly. Allow me to begin again. Take a look at this, sister.” K
azon held up the bracelet Aran had sent him. “This is Aran’s spellarmor. Look at the runes around the outside. I know you inspected this briefly before sending it on to me. You concluded this was, in fact, the work of a goddess, yes?”
“Yes, Virkonna’s handiwork, quite clearly,” Voria allowed. “Where are you going with this?”
“Well, you’d expect Mother to be just a tad bit more interested in a magical binding that could prove that her greatest rival’s new alloy was unsafe. Even the spell itself should have fascinated her.” He set the bracelet down and leaned in to the screen. “She showed no interest. None. Then she had a meeting with Skare, and ever since, she’s refused to see me. All of her resources have been placed at Skare’s disposal.”
“What?” Voria blinked several times. “She’d never allow him control of so much as a single mage, much less her entire armada.”
“Finally.” Kazon leaned back, and breathed out through his nostrils. It calmed him, the idea that he might have a real ally. “You begin to see why I’m concerned. This metal isn’t safe. But it is very, very lucrative and somehow Skare has won Jolene over.”
Voria tapped her lip absently with a finger. Her eyes took on a faraway look, and Kazon had the impression she was using some sort of ability. Her eyes snapped back into focus, then landed on him. “You were right to contact me. We very nearly approached the Inurans to cleanse the Spellship, instead of bringing it to Shaya. I don’t know what Skare is planning, but I do know that his magical defenses, those preventing me from seeing his possibilities, were erected by a god. He’s working with someone. Krox, or Nefarius, or a player we haven’t met.”
“So you agree that I’m right to be alarmed?” Kazon asked. He needed to hear it.
“Yes.” She gave a tight nod. “And you need to get out of there, Kazon. You’re likely to be their next target, the very instant they realize you mean to oppose them. Something they can detect easily via scrying.”