Endless Night (The Guild Wars Book 3)

by Tim C. Taylor

  “She’s merging with a ship mind. She’s become its living pilot, and it was you who taught her to fly.”

  “I did. But the desire was in her all along. That’s what she is, your sister. She’s an elemental of desire. A singularity sucking in whatever she wants. Making it hers.”

  With a cough from his chair as its exhaust ports cleared, Branco drove across the deck, feeling a ripple through his body as he passed through the concealment curtain. He swerved to a halt in front of the captain and offered his hand. “Sounds like you know Captain Blue well.”

  Jenkins shook hands. He had a grip like an arm-wrestling CASPer. “Captain is she? Hah! She’ll be Admiral Blue by next week. And who might you be?”

  “Major Sun’s temporary lover. Saisho Branco.”

  Jenkins shook his head. “Sorry, son. I’m a little too old and remote for modern Earth talk. You’ll have to explain temporary.”

  “It means I’m dying.”

  The man looked from Branco to Sun’s approximate position and back while stroking his beard. “I’m sorry to hear that, Branco. I’ve seen a lot of people die and nearly all didn’t see it coming. At least you know to make the most of every second you’ve got. Me? I can’t shake the idea that I’ve lived too long. It’s a terrible affliction. One that’s led to me to committing a cardinal sin I’ve resisted all these years. I’ve finally acquired a conscience.”

  “That sounds unlikely.” Sun emerged from cover, taking a position a little to Branco’s right.

  “Endless Night?” Captain Jenkins sighed heavily. He sounded exhausted. “They aren’t the scourge of the nebula they once were. Their remnants have stumbled across a trade more profitable than piracy and extortion, which they’ve claimed as their own. No, there are bigger concerns than them.”

  “Clearly.” Sun raised an eyebrow. “Such as your need to earn the credits to support your feckless son and two ex-wives.”

  “Did I ever mention them to you?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Well, we’re up to three ex-wives now. It was a setup; a Talgud perfume trader’s daughter on Cattelatta Prima. I didn’t even realize we’d gotten married. I thought I was just being polite.”

  “Spare me the details.”

  Jenkins spread his arms and raised his gaze to the overhead. “Does associating with bad people make me a villain, too?”

  It sounded like a genuine question to Branco. One he suspected the man had been asking himself a lot lately.

  “Maybe not,” Branco soothed. “Depends on your actions. We’re here looking for a brilliant Jeha scientist kidnapped by your new business associates. Help us rescue her before Endless Night decides she’s surplus to requirements.”

  The captain rubbed at his chin. “I know nothing about this. I do know the Crazy Notion’s casting off from Station 5 a week early. Something’s spooked her captain.”

  “That would be us,” said Sun. “It all fits. She’s on board. We’re on board. What assets do you have, Skipper? Can we take the ship?”

  “Not with just a small loading crew. I’m sorry about your missing genius, but—”

  “Not missing,” Branco snapped. “Enslaved. Made to work for Endless Night.”

  Jenkins stepped back as if slapped. “What’s her name?”

  “I didn’t catch it,” Sun replied. “We call her Hopper. Her specialties are in higher dimensional physics and energy transference.”

  “When Crazy Notion docks next, I’ll keep watch. I’ll see if I can tell where they’re taking her. I’ll keep an ear open too, see if I can learn why they would want Hopper. That’s all. I’m sorry. Really. But there’s a lot more at stake here than your genius and my ex-wives.”

  “Including our survival,” said Branco. “Why are you on this ship, Captain?”

  “Endless Night is going to restore a regular trade route that ran dry recently—one I was once a part of. The one that kept my ship afloat for the past dozen years and once paid your wages, Sun. Naturally, we will do a semi-legit trade to cover my presence here. My pinnace is clamped to Crazy Notion’s hull. When we arrive at Rho-Gaudi we’ll transfer the cargo Captain Shurough-Yub has squirreled away somewhere.”

  “Will you let us aboard your pinnace?” asked Sun.

  “No.” He shrugged. “I’ve ensured that surveillance is not working in this part of the hold, but they’ll be watching. I’ve heard of the Midnight Sun Free Company, and I know you’re connected to them, Sun. Endless Night will recognize you, and they want revenge for what you did to them a few years ago. If you try sneaking across to the pinnace, we’ll all die. No, I’ve a better idea…”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty-One

  Docking Plaza Agate, Station 5

  Betty blended the view from an arc of detail and peripheral eyes to appreciate the majestic scene through the viewing windows of the docking plaza. The light of Beta-Caerelis glinted off the freighter thrusting to join the formation of starships waiting for the stargate’s next activation.

  The ships were near the stargate in the L5 Lagrange region. That was much too far away to see unaided, but the window was configured for a close-up view of the stargate. Even so, the freighter seemed like a tiny box of metal and gases, an insignificant speck in the ocean of ephemeral green and violet gas clouds that was the Spine Nebula.

  Until she’d come to this station, traveling between stars had been a dull practicality of Betty’s life. But now? That people inside the ship could dare to journey across such vast distances felt so audacious it made her exoskeleton quiver.

  Crazy Notion that speck was called. It was a good name. Betty wished she were aboard.

  Until this point in her life, Betty had wished for little more than to kill and eat things, preferably in pleasant company.

  Her time with the Midnighters had changed her, left her yearning for more. Now she desired to explore the immensity of the galaxy, to nourish her sense of wonder by discovering new beings to savage and devour.

  “They are in danger,” said Jenkins.

  “Sun and Branco? No, they are questing together.”

  “Really? Did the major tell you that?”

  “She did. Report to the officer of the watch on Midnight Sun. Let them know what’s happened.”

  Jenkins lifted his feelers toward Betty’s head. “You’re not coming back either. Are you?”

  She peered down at her wriggly companion through her detail eyes. “The two Humans will return soon enough, although I suspect Branco will return as a nesting carcass. It grieves me that I won’t have the chance to see the major’s hatchlings emerge from my friend’s corpse. Jenkins, will you film the event and forward the recording on to me?”

  The Jeha gave an untranslatable buzz before responding, “Yes, of course, Betty.”

  “Do you think I’m foolish?” Betty asked, guessing at the reason for his awkward answer. She realized she would miss Jenkins, too.

  A wild idea shot through her like lightning. Jeha were good at holding onto things, and beneath their crunchy exterior was such a small amount of flesh that weighed about the same as a Flatar. Perhaps Jenkins could take Tatterjee’s place as her partner and rider?

  Jenkins placed his antennae on her leg, very hesitantly. He was such a scared little thing. No, she was being foolish. Jenkins was no warrior, no rider.

  “I think it’s important to have a goal,” said Jenkins. “I don’t think you’re foolish at all. It has been…an experience to have known you, Betty.”

  Hydraulic fluids pumped through Betty’s exoskeleton as she swelled with pride. Her legs straightened, which made her tower even higher over the little alien. Who, to her surprise, didn’t run away. “Other than Tatterjee, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever told me,” she said. “Except for Major Sun. And Branco. And Top.”

  “Umm. You’re welcome?”

  “In a little while, I should also like you to report to Midnight Sun that I left to track Sun and Branco. There will be less stain of
dishonor that way, although I imagine Captain Blue will guess what I have done anyway. She understands me. We are alike in many ways.”

  “If you stay longer,” said the Jeha, “I may be able to track down this alleged Riderless Tort. Or at least establish a confidence level on, you know, her actually being real.”

  “No doubt you could, little snackling, but I have learned unexpected wisdom by associating with you aliens. Branco told me once that sometimes the journey is as important as arriving at the destination. I almost sank my fangs into him for saying such a stupid thing, but now I see he had a point. No, Jenkins. I do not require your assistance, after all. This is my moment to move on. Tracking the spoor of this Riderless Tort is what I need to do.”

  When Jenkins didn’t respond, Betty snapped her fangs at him, chasing him out of the docking plaza.

  Alone, she watched the blocky shape of Crazy Notion give a last burn of its plasma torch on final approach to the stargate.

  Her friends winked out of existence and out of Betty’s life.

  Emotion choked her lung. She couldn’t breathe.

  By the time the moment passed, she was so giddy that her legs threatened to splay out.

  She didn’t care if anyone was watching, though, because to her astonishment, she didn’t feel the rending absence of her friends. Branco and Sun were still with her, inside. Like Tatterjee, who still whispered his mix of teasing insults and wise advice.

  In fact, a memory of Sun rose to the fore and repeated the Human’s last words. I’ve decided to stay here and see where the voyage takes me. Sometimes we deserve the chance to follow our hearts.

  The more she considered the major’s words, the more Betty decided they had been meant for her all along.

  There was no need for guilt at deserting her place with the Midnighters. Why, Major Sun had all but ordered her to go on her quest.

  “Thank you, Major,” said Betty, and hurried away to obey her final orders.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Branco played his flashlight over the heap of supplies, taking an inventory of what Captain Jenkins had left inside their cargo crate: four drums of potable water, a crate of emergency ration packs, spare flashlights, blankets for warmth and cushioning, anti-bac spray, and—he shuddered—large, empty hermi-seal canisters.

  “We’re stuck here for a week,” said Sun. “Even with those waste canisters, it’s gonna get real ripe in this damned box.”

  “Skipper said the seals over the air holes will mask our odor.”

  “Doesn’t help me if your stink has driven me insane, Branco.”

  “It’s going to get cold, too.” Branco threw Sun a blanket. “Best get these on now.”

  “I’ve an idea.” He caught a hint of her sister in Sun’s words. “Switch off your light.”

  Branco complied, plunging the cargo box into total blackness.

  When the captain’s loading crew had boxed them in, the hold had been illuminated. If light wasn’t getting in through the air holes, he hoped that meant their flashlights were not showing outside.

  Sun made a rustling sound.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  “Grabbing more blankets.”

  She settled onto his lap, wrapping a blanket over them both.

  Branco intended to wrap her tightly in his embrace, but he snatched his hands away in surprise.

  She was naked.

  He licked his lips and placed his hands over some interesting locations.

  “Warm me, Branco.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Total Immersion Suite, Blunt Justice

  Arms spread wide, Blue floated in a spray of cables. She was warming to Gloriana’s suggestion of having gills surgically implanted, because if it weren’t for the need to sleep in air, she would happily sit inside this hot sticky goop for weeks on end.

  There was something truly liberating about the buoyancy of the viscous liquid under her body. Of temporarily leaving the burden of her command responsibilities in the capable limbs of Commander Flkk’Sss. Of doing away with clothing, for that matter. Nudity could be fun in its own way, of course, but this was different. Blunt Justice was an all-Goltar vessel, and it wasn’t as if the half-coral, half-squid creatures were exactly interested in peeking at her. In fact, the more she thought on it, it was the complete absence of Humans that she found most liberating. Here she could be whatever she wanted.

  And she wanted to be invincible.

  She talked to the ship through the remote link to Midnight Sun.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  The ship didn’t reply with words, but the sense of eagerness spoke clearly enough.

  “Planet-3 Scenario,” announced the Goltar tech. “Run one thirty-two. Execute simulation!”

  Blue took a sharp breath through her rebreather and blasted through the emergence point.

  The lethal, multi-zone defense was waiting, as it always was, but for the first time the scenario was different. The Goltar had removed the acceleration limit that kept Midnight Sun from crushing its living crew. Now she could keep up with the robo-ships that her forays into the Goltar simulation data had confirmed as unmanned.

  She’d also learned that the Goltar didn’t call them Hellburners, which was a shame. She liked that name, but their true classification was Keesius-class world-killers. And whoever had built them, they certainly didn’t look like any other Goltar vessel.

  She didn’t allow herself time to dwell on the implications. There was plenty to occupy her attention in the fight to come.

  “Form spear,” she ordered.

  They’d exited the emergence point line abreast. Now Midnight Sun instructed the Keesius ships to form up behind her line astern, though staggered slightly to avoid interrupting their own firing cones.

  Midnight Sun herself became the tip of the spear.

  In previous attempts, she’d tried finesse, deception, and even to flee the planet altogether and detonate the Keesius inside the peculiar star whose blue light had been stolen.

  None of that had worked.

  This time she would drive a spear straight through the heart of Planet-3.

  She charged forward at 20 Gs, her head spinning with the giddiness of this raw acceleration.

  Much faster than in previous attempts, she slammed into the thick drone clouds, creating a clear passage with her super-heavy main cannons and flickering lasers and railgun barrages.

  Drones scattered before her, but they were fighting back hard, hurting her badly.

  Without letting up her attack, she ducked and weaved through the drone cloud, peeling them off in their pursuit of her.

  As the Keesius ships powered through, she spiraled around to their rear, allowing them to pick off the drones swarming her.

  She took up at the rear of the formation, bruised and leaking atmosphere, but still in the fight, as determined as ever. Having taken the brunt of the drone fire, Snap, Crackle, and Pop were less damaged than in previous runs.

  “Lead the charge,” she told Snap. “Don’t tell Jim Cartwright I said that.”

  She laughed—almost choking on immersion gel—when she imagined Midnight Sun passing on her unedited command to the robo-ship.

  Snap redlined her plasma torch, and then pushed harder still.

  C’mon, Snap. Keep it going…just a little longer. “Fire one!”

  The Keesius unleashed the power of whatever the hell kind of munition earned it the sobriquet “world-killer.”

  The three surviving ships in the spear hurtled through her debris cloud and pressed on, still thrusting harder than any ship crewed by living beings could manage.

  Midnight Sun’s shields were failing. She was badly wounded but not yet mortally.

  “Your turn, Crackle.”

  They shot out of the drone pack, earning a brief respite from the pain of the enemy fire, but now the big guns from the battle flotillas opened up, with the orbitals nearly in range bey
ond.

  But Crackle was moving so fast, the battleships couldn’t bring their spinal mounts around to bear quickly enough.

  The second Keesius exploded, ripping the heart out of the defensive flotillas and sending a blast of charged particles that made the near side of Planet-3 light up with brilliant aurora.

  “Seal the deal, Pop.”

  The final Keesius burned hard.

  Their velocity was so extreme that it shrank the final defensive zone, not through relativistic effects but simply the rate at which they ate distance.

  Midnight Sun played a crucial support role, screaming lies into the listening orbitals, confusing their brains during the critical firing window they had on Pop.

  The Keesius ship tore a burning hole through the planet’s atmosphere…Where it exploded.

  It was unlike anything Blue had experienced. Even when the other Keesiuses had gone off, they hadn’t produced such a powerful blast of energy. Despite the cocoon of vacuum around the simulated Midnight Sun, Blue felt her teeth hum with power as the entire planet burst into an expanding ball of angry energy.

  She was vaporized.

  The simulation ended.

  In its own way, the real Midnight Sun was still screaming with the thrill of victory, but Blue couldn’t. She’d just destroyed an entire world, and herself in the process. It might have been a simulation, but this was clearly no game.

  Was this really an attack planned for real against the Veetanho? It was obvious who the Goltar hated most in the world, but she needed to be sure of the true identity of Planet-3.

  She was on the brink of reaching out to access data on the Veetanho home world, but stopped short, as she had many times before.

  This is not a game.

  Undoubtedly, her GalNet access would be monitored. She didn’t trust her pinplants to be discreet either. Not with so many Goltar cables linked to her head. This was not a question to ask lightly.