Cast Off, page 36
part #3 of The Peridot Shift Series
“That is troubling. The cult intends only to unleash her power, not to influence its use.”
“Intercept them. Take the ring and deliver it to Meran yourself.”
“Storm the Alchemists’ stronghold?” Demir chuckled, the mustache above his lips twitching. “That does sound like something you’d attempt, with or without an army at your command.”
Hankirk saw his knuckles turn pale as he gripped his heavy crystal whiskey glass. “The strength of the Alchemists is such, Patron, that an army is meaningless. You know what happened to the Veritor fleet at the Battle of Nexus. Their ships and their presence were inconsequential.”
“Exactly the facts I am considering. We will not attempt to reach Nexus and take the ring from the cultists. I expect they will not reach Meran any more than we would. But be soothed, Hankirk, knowing it is your approach we will use, after all.”
“My approach?”
“We will gain control of a Meran of our own. We will commandeer the simula under Talis’s command when they reenter the atmosphere, just as we will take the ring.”
“You will still have to deal with Meran.”
Demir pulled open a desk drawer and retrieved something, laying it gently between them. “That will be the simplest matter of all, fortunately.”
Hankirk looked at the device, not recognizing it. From the materials, it was Yu’Nyun. It looked like a headband or a necklace. Ornate. Delicate. Beautiful, expensive perhaps, but unassuming.
Though he’d long ago learned not to underestimate the power in a piece of jewelry.
Patron Demir said, “It will make the simula docile.”
Hankirk swallowed, annoyed that he hadn’t kept the confusion off his face.
“You will still have to deal with Meran, long enough to get it on her.”
“Agreed. I was concerned about that. Until you arrived. I believe you have enough personal history with these crews to cause a suitable distraction. Congratulations on becoming useful again, Hankirk.”
Chapter 43
× Talis ×
The Rattlebone’s medical cabin teemed with Yu’Nyun. Talis hung in the doorway, arms crossed, out of place on her own ship.
The survivors of the two Yu’Nyun ships were so little like the aliens she remembered from her first visit aboard their scout vessel, two years before. The chill of them was gone. She could tell them apart now. Not just by the scars and wounds that crossed their bodies. She couldn’t quite remember their names yet, but she knew she’d learn so she could properly thank them.
Scrimshaw lay on the operating table, naked and shivering despite the abundance of heat coming off the straining engines. With frightening barbed tweezers and flat, fan-shaped spatulas, the others were working Scrimshaw free of sist softened layer of chitin. They had been working around the large scar crossing the torso for some time.
An interpreter stood beside Talis with the familiar glass tablet, holding it out so Talis could listen to the conversations between the aliens working on Scrimshaw, but they were speaking at such a low volume, it wasn’t picking up much.
She turned to the individual holding the tablet, she thought xist name might have been Xisi’ustaxir’Risnin, but she was too anxious over Scrimshaw to attempt the pronunciation. “How’s it look?”
Xe lowered the tablet and blinked nictitating eyelids for a moment. Then spoke Common Trade as xe replied, “The wound in ghist chest was allowed to build up excess calcium over multiple molts. The Tu’ru’slas’toshst are attempting to reshape the underlying tissue so that future molts will not increase in difficulty.”
Talis repeated the word, not quite getting it right of course.
“Tu’ru’slas’toshst. Caretakers of the molting process. Since coming to Peridot, they have had to adapt, to develop new techniques.”
“Because now it’s not a death sentence to carry scars.”
Xe made the strange motion that Talis had come to recognize as a Yu’Nyun gesture in the affirmative. “Peridot has changed us.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
The interpreter gave her a long look, unblinking. Then made the affirmative gesture again and turned back to watch the caretakers at work on Scrimshaw.
By the pace set so far, the caretakers would be at it a good while yet. She backed out into the corridor, where she took a deep breath and mentally adjusted tack for the myriad other problems that needed checking on.
They’d abandoned Onaya’s ring. The temple ship, it seemed, had not, even if they’d lost their goddess. As the Yu’Nyun ships fell to the moon’s surface and the Rattlebone turned homeward in hasty retreat, the temple ships had spread out, scraping the nothingness like the tines of a rake.
With their new ship coming apart at the alchemical seams, Talis let them to it, trusting that no one aboard the Bone temple ships would be able to find a tiny spark of metal in a darkness full of sparks.
Sophie met Talis in the corridor, face shining with sweat and streaks, either ash or grease, across her face like her own brand of cosmetics.
“How’re we holding up?”
“Holding, captain. For now, anyway. Mostly thanks to Meran. I’ll feel better when we’re back in atmo.”
“Anything our visitors able to help with?” Talis figured the Yu’Nyun had earned their passage if they could help Scrimshaw, but things were dire all across the ship.
“They’ve been doing what they can, but technology isn’t what’s keeping us together out here, and it can’t take over without a retrofit that we don’t have the time for.”
Talis nodded. “All right, too much to hope for. Let’s just get ourselves home, then. What kind of speed can we get?”
Sophie stood aside to let Talis up the accessway to midship first. She tucked her thick leather gloves into a cargo pocket in her coveralls. “Engines would be happy to vent more of this heat, at least. Speed’s not gonna rattle us until we get back to Peridot.”
“Good, let’s give her all we’ve got, Soph. We’re almost there.”
Their world hung like a brilliant gem out ahead of their bow. It was at least twice as large as the last time Talis was on deck to see it. Relief sent chills down the backs of her bare arms. The green light from Nexus infused what must have been the entire atmosphere, creating a wide field of misty green against the blackness beyond. From this distance, the flotsam layer was a flat shadow instead of a sparkling pool. She could make out the shapes of larger islands eclipsing Nexus, and the sliver of highlights along island edges to either side.
There was a strange formation of shadows silhouetted against all that gem-colored sky.
“We may have a problem, captain.” Amos handed her his personal scope as she approached him and Meran at midship. The glare coming through it forced her to drop it again, then she blinked and prepared herself before lifting it to her eye again.
Of course, an alchemist’s pocket-sized scope would be more powerful than the ship’s own deck scope. She’d have to remember to ask him to make her one or enhance the ones they had.
Once she’d oriented herself, Talis could nearly see the wood grain on what looked to be about four dozen ships. All flying the Veritors’ gods-rotted flag.
“Welcome committee,” was all she said as she passed the scope to Sophie. She’d rather have let loose a string of curses that would offend even herself, but distracting Meran from her work was inadvisable.
Meran sat in the center of the sigil she and Amos had carved in the deck. All around her were scorch marks in the shape of her hands, but with the help of Amos’s elemental talismans, she’d been able to back off on burning through the wood planks for energy.
Not that things had gotten easy for her. The concentration on Meran’s face was evident in the frown and furrowed brow. Her breaths came short and quick, and the tension in her back looked as though her spine might buckle from the pressure.
Amos didn’t look much better. A stack of enormous books teetered by his side, one open in his lap, and a cup of water nearby. He removed his pinch-nose spectacles and rubbed at his eyelids. Talis just laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze.
She got two steps closer to the wheelhouse to check on Tisker and Zeela, when Meran’s voice stopped her.
“Talis, there is something you should know.”
Her stomach sank as the lift balloons of her lungs failed to inflate again. Forget leaving Meran to concentrate. “Is Kirna all right?”
“For the moment, yes. But Hankirk is there.” She pointed a finger at the blockade.
Talis muttered a curse and curled her hands into fists, cracking her knuckles. There was just no getting rid of that man. It almost failed to surprise her (though it never failed to inconvenience her). “Only one reason the Veritors will have shown up now.”
“Didn’t Hankirk leave them?” Sophie asked.
“The man has no integrity. He’ll get on whichever ship is going in the direction he wants.” Talis thought of Hawke and felt another measure of cold iron clink on top of the pile already piled in her gut. “Or whichever ship will let him give orders.”
“We could go around it,” Sophie offered, her voice bubbling with hope. “If we adjust our angle of approach, we can easily slip the blockade.”
Talis chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking hard. “No. Kirna’s there. We’re getting her back.”
Sophie’s face hardened. “Won’t do her much good if we get ourselves shot out of the skies.”
“They won’t shoot. They want Meran.”
Meran opened one eye, giving the impression of a cat woken mid-nap. “And Hankirk will want you to see him win.”
Talis barked a laugh that rasped her throat. “Guaranteed. Okay, how do we use that?”
Their plan—to draw Hankirk and his ship close enough for Meran to manipulate—took scant minutes to put together and was based on a lot of assumptions. And that was a lot of ships out there.
Amos and Sophie helped Meran shore up the defenses against mundane weaponry—just in case the Veritors decided it would be easier to pluck Meran out of flotsam—and they waited for the blockade to attack or for Hankirk’s ship to pull forward and demand to board.
Neither happened. As the Rattlebone approached, and as the first ice crystals of outer atmo seized at the crew’s exhalations, the blockade opened their ranks, forming a clear path for them to reenter.
That didn’t make anyone aboard the Rattlebone feel any better.
“They’ll surround us as soon as we take them up on that invitation.”
“It doesn’t change anything,” Talis said, but she chewed the inside of her cheek while her mind ground itself smooth.
They couldn’t take full advantage of Meran’s strength until Meran could stop focusing that strength on keeping them breathing air instead of choking on vacuum.
Talis inhaled, straightened her neck, and set her shoulders. “Take us in.”
Chapter 44
× Hankirk ×
Hankirk paced the deck, frustrated at every soul he’d ever met. His present company was just the latest in a long line of people put on Peridot to get in his way. At least pacing kept him warm in the bitter cold of thinnest atmo.
Demir’s Veritor ships stalked the progress of the returning vessels. Commands rang through the air, demanding course adjustments to keep the fleet in front of their reentry.
Hankirk overheard nearby sailors exchanging bets on who would return with the ring. The favorite seemed to be the Yu’Nyun, and there was speculation as to the warm reception they’d have by the Veritor ships. Demir and his kind were apparently still intent on playing sycophantic lackeys to the invaders.
Hankirk’s money, if he’d cared to voice his expectations, was that Talis would carry the ring. Things just seemed to work out for that woman no matter what blunders and missteps she made. It was uncanny. It was unfair.
When the scopes finally made out the details of approaching vessels, Hankirk got to enjoy the smug satisfaction that it was the new ship from Jones’s shipyard.
“That would be Talis at the helm, then.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He darted a glance to the nearest crew members to see if anyone noticed.
A brawny woman holding a scope to her eye smirked. “It’s a Yu’Nyun ship now.”
“They have a Yu’Nyun aboard. That doesn’t make it a Yu’Nyun ship.”
She waved the scope, but didn’t offer it. “More’n one. The deck’s littered with them. If they’re still aboard, the pirates must’ve learned to make friends with the visitors after all.”
Hankirk held out his hand. The woman was reluctant but, after an insolent pause, placed the scope against his palm. She looked like she wanted to swing it at him, but no sailor would endanger the tools of their trade.
The ship was as strange as the rumors had described, if not more. Its hull was an expanse of glass, but despite their angle to the sun and to Nexus, none of them reflected the light. The ship looked as much like a faceted jewel as a proper aircraft.
The sailor hadn’t exaggerated. There were many Yu’Nyun moving about the ship, easy to identify even at this distance. They seemed to be acting as crew, though Hankirk thought it unlikely any of them had handled true rigging before.
He heard the woman clear her throat, but he ignored her. With the space closing between the Veritor line and Talis’s ship, more precious details continuously came into focus.
He saw her.
Talis stood atop the forecastle, her scope held in her hands. She had seen their line. She spoke over her shoulder and someone else appeared by her side. Meran, by her stature and the flares of blue light that tickled the air as she moved.
Hankirk returned the scope to its owner and stalked toward the quarter deck.
Demir was about to fumble the whole thing if he thought he could simply intimidate Talis into turning Meran over.
Hankirk had to put himself in the middle of that negotiation, or he’d have come all this way just to watch it fall apart.
Chapter 45
× Talis ×
The Veritor ships closed around them. All trap, no pretense.
Their lead ship came about to parallel the Rattlebone’s gunwale and tie off. Meran let their protective bubble collapse. It would have been nice to know the pack of ships surrounding them couldn’t blast them out of the sky, but Meran deserved to face this threat with full resources at hand. Instantly they felt the chill of outer atmo again, and it felt like a warning.
The deck was crowded. The Yu’Nyun gathered behind Talis, Zeela, Amos, Dug, and Meran. Sophie had gone to transition the engines to air flight again, and Tisker was still at the helm. Very likely the ship wasn’t going anywhere, but Talis could hope.
A small squad of Veritors marched across the plank between ships and fanned out in a semi-circle around the railing, aiming their rifles at everyone aboard as though they weren’t dramatically outnumbered.
Hell, they’d have been dramatically outmatched even if it were just Meran, alone, in the center of the deck.
Still, the crowd of aliens was unarmed, and Talis and her crew did not have weapons drawn. Better not to startle the Veritors into misbehaving. Only took a few times for Talis to learn that lesson.
Hankirk boarded, looking far more threadbare and unkempt than Talis anticipated, two steps behind a Veritor man who wore his clean and pressed imperial palecoat in the manner that Talis had been expecting. Hankirk looked positively venomous.
So. Hankirk wasn’t in charge here. That was interesting.
Talis took a step forward, keeping her hands on her hips. “We haven’t had the pleasure.”
The well-dressed Veritor looked down his nose at Talis. He was taller than her, which meant he actually could look down at her, unlike when Hankirk tried it. “I am Patron Demir of the House of Cerwin, Lord of—”
“Let me stop you there.” Talis held up a hand, feigning a friendly gesture. “No one here gives a sirenia’s fart what you’re lord of or who birthed you. That currency is meaningless outside the capital. And I’d imagine, thanks to your friend Hankirk there, these days it’s pretty meaningless inside the capital, too. Why don’t we just get to the matter at hand?”
There was a moment of silence that nearly frosted on the deck around him. He turned his head a fraction of a span toward Hankirk and said, “Your friend is as charming as you’ve described.”
Hankirk said nothing. He was too busy fighting to keep a smirk under control. So. Hankirk wasn’t in charge, and he wasn’t a fan of the man who was.
What did he say his name was? Demir? Demir looked past Talis at the assembly behind her. “Honorable Yu’Nyun, the Empire has long considered your people our friends. I invite you to join us once this business is taken care of. In a moment, we will have what we came for, and we can escort you back to your shipyards.”
The interpretation of his voice into Yu’Nyun faded out from the glass tablet someone was holding. Still, none of the Yu’Nyun responded. Some stepped closer to where Dug stood with the others. Their placid, dark eyes stared at the man until he blinked himself free of their gaze and turned back to Talis.
“Hankirk, if you will.”
He stepped forward to present a case to Demir, and Talis recognized it with a hiss. “You five-times-cursed bastard . . .”
“Good, then I don’t have to explain what it is.” Demir clicked it open and held it out to her. “Put it on her.”
He pushed the Yu’Nyun case into her hand as Talis’s mind spun. How many of the control devices did the Veritors have? Would it make a difference to toss this over the nearby railing, or would it just piss them off and get her shot before they took Meran anyway?
