Tyche's Crown Read online

  You should have taken them to a shitty mudball.

  It’d been weird, Amedea’s tip about that spy. But she was good. Had always been good at it. She wasn’t great at being a decent human being, but she was trying. It had only been a few weeks since her number one lieutenant had hit her on the back of the head because she wanted to rule humans before saving them. Hard road to hoe, that. Hard road to come back from, for either party.

  Nate looked up at the entrance to the bar. It was the kind that said, real polite like, that spacers weren’t welcome. Genuine fire lamps outside. Tables with fresh cut flowers. Fabric napkins. Nate was a spacer, through and through, but he used to be something else before that, and it had taught him manners. He walked inside, not like he owned the place, but like he wanted a drink with nice people. It was mostly true.

  Harlow was behind the bar. His hair was a little thinner, his gut a little thicker. But that smile? He was looking happier than Nate remembered seeing him in a while. “Hey, Nate.” Aside from Harlow, the bar was empty. Unless you were a spacer, keeping odd hours with odd people, you probably wouldn’t want to go to a bar mid-morning.

  “Harlow,” said Nate. “You’re looking well.”

  “Retirement suits me,” said Harlow.

  “You’re working at a bar,” said Nate.

  “It’s not work if you love it,” said Harlow. “You hear to see her?”

  “Might be here to see you.”

  “Both things can be true. Ain’t a crime.”

  “I hear you.” Nate pulled up a chair at the bar — a little higher than he liked, what with his metal leg, but he was getting comfortable with the prosthetic. Finally. “What do you recommend?”

  “Got whiskey from Io,” said Harlow. “It’s got an interesting bite, like it wants to be an angry dog, but also wants to lay down and show you its belly.”

  “I’ll take a bottle,” said Nate.

  “Going to be that kind of session with her?”

  “Might be.”

  “Fair enough.” Harlow turned, hmmm’d to himself while he selected a bottle, then placed it in front of Nate. “Here.”

  “Let’s try it first, hey?” Nate set a few coins on the bar, and at Harlow’s look, a few more. “That enough?”

  “Keep going.”

  “You trying to retire on this one sale?” But Nate counted out a few more coins, the rich clink of Republic currency something sure to make Harlow even happier. Nate figured he owed him, on account of some of the ruckus that went down on Earth. Both back in the old days, and more recently. Harlow owed him some too, what with trying to stitch him up with Resistance High Command. Still, friends were hard to find, and old friends harder still, because most of Nate’s were dead. Good friends were harder still. A few coins didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

  “She’s had a rough night,” said Harlow. “I think she’s working herself too hard.”

  “I think she’s trying to make up for lost time,” said Nate. He caught Harlow’s expression. “Okay, okay. Let me talk to her. But first, we need to test this drink.”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” said Harlow, setting a couple of chunky glasses on the counter.

  Nate opened the whiskey, closed his eyes while he smelled the aroma, then poured a generous splash in each glass. He raised his glass. “To friendship.”

  “To not fucking dying,” said Harlow. They clinked, each taking a sip.

  “I don’t know about the show-you-the-belly part,” said Nate, “but I think I like it.”

  “Me too,” said Harlow. “And I don’t mean about this particular drink. I mean about you and me, here, in this bar, not shouting at each other. Not running, or trying to hustle. Why don’t you … stop? Just settle down? You could open a business. Hell, with the coin you hauled from the last jobs, you don’t need to work. Sell the Tyche. Make a home.”

  Nate took another hit from the glass. “I’ve got a home, Harlow. I don’t aim to sell her, either. She’s a part of me, and I figure we’ll die together.” He looked at his metal hand. It was likely because he was part machine, and the Tyche just a little human now. She’d looked after them so well. “Besides, the universe ain’t going to save itself.”

  “You’ve done enough.”

  “Not yet,” said Nate. “But soon.” He got off the stool, snaring the bottle and his glass. He gave Harlow a nod, then walked out back.

  • • •

  ‘Out back’ was dim, another real fire burning in a hearth. Vertical column heaters were placed at the back of the room, keeping the whole place warm. A little too warm, but if all you did was sit around staring into space, Nate figured you could use the extra heat. There was a figure hunched before the fire, hair a little messy but not lank. Clothes a little looser than they should, because eating was important if you wanted to keep up your strength, and Nate wasn’t sure this one did much of that. She was on a bench, leather, overstuffed, no back. Two chairs were on either side of her — for holding court, or maybe for when Harlow had the time to come sit a while. “Amedea,” he said.

  She turned, offering him a tired smile. Amedea still looked poorly handled by time, but her smile seemed genuine. “Captain.” Nate settled himself into a chair. He held up the bottle, waggling it in the air. “Sure. Why not?”

  The small table in front of her held a few knick-knacks. A comm. A portable console. An empty glass. He splashed some of the whiskey into her glass, then held his own up. “Cheers.”

  “What’s the occasion?” she said, taking a sip. “Oh, this is nice. The new stuff?”

  “So Harlow claims,” said Nate. “Middle of a war with aliens and a revolution in our own government, and he still finds ways to import.”

  “The Guild won’t shut down the Bridges,” said Amedea. “They don’t need government to run ‘em.”

  “They do not,” agreed Nate. “We’re shipping out.”

  Amedea hesitated, her glass caught half-way to her lips, then she completed the motion, taking a sip. “So soon?”

  “Found something. Found something big.”

  “And you’re telling me?” She gave a low chuckle. “I didn’t think I was in your trusted circle.”

  “Sure you are,” said Nate. “You just got to stop being an asshole all the time.”

  “I’m … trying,” she said. “Do you know what it’s like to be better than everyone?”

  “No,” said Nate.

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “You’re the head of a starship. Leader of people. Pulled hurting folks into a healthy whole. Got everyone moving in the right direction. Blew alien insects out of a moon. Our moon. Even got the Republic to come to heel. Stopped me cold, right when I thought we would win. You’re better at that than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Nate didn’t know what to say to that. “I … guess I did what needed doing.”

  “Which makes you better than everyone else,” she said. “Like me.”

  “Not really,” said Nate. “I don’t want to crush the rest of humanity under my heel.”

  “Neither do I. I just … know what’s good for them.” She held up her free hand. “No, I don’t mean that in an evil dictator way. I mean I can see in their heads. Pry out their thoughts. I can see what will make them really happy. Help them get there. Is that so wrong?”

  “Only if they don’t get a say-so,” said Nate. “But I figure most people work their shit out. I expect you will too.” He stood to go. “The lead was good, by the way. He’d made a move on El. Called himself David Smithson.”

  “That was his name.”

  “He was born with that name and didn’t change it?” Nate frowned. “You sure he was Republic? They’re usually smarter than that.” He sighed, then set the bottle down beside her. “Here. Something to remember me by.”

  “That’s it?” She straightened. “No lectures. No ‘play nice or else?’”

  “Hell,” said Nate. “I ain’t your priest. But if you think you need to play nice, then maybe you
should.”

  He was almost out of the room when she spoke again. “Nate? Thank you.”

  “What for?” He didn’t turn.

  “For not killing me when you should have.”

  “Huh,” said Nate. “Maybe you should play that forward.” He left Amedea in the gloom of her room, to continue reaching out with her mind, combing the streets of Enia Alpha. Looking for the humans who would hurt them. Working at it until she burned herself out.

  • • •

  The Tyche. His ship. He stood outside, hands on his hips, smile on his face. There was carbon scoring in plentiful amounts on the outside of the hull, new shiny metal next to old metal where repairs had been made. But she was whole. She’d fly true. The ship was online, steam escaping from underneath, lights on outside the hull. She looked ready to fly. The winking woman painted on her hull smiled down at him.

  He walked up the gangway to the cargo bay, laying a hand on the ship’s skin as he entered. Familiar. Old, but not older than him. It’d been made to fly in a war that lasted the blink of an eye, the Old Emperor cast down, the new Republic and its Senate rising in the wake. The Old Emperor — Dom, the line between friend and family so blurred as to be indistinct — had made the tools of his own destruction. The Intelligencers, humans who could read, and often change, the minds of other humans.

  One of them was Amedea. She’d helped to lead the Resistance. Starting a movement, breaking away from the others of her kind. Living a life of the hunted. Her ideals were still to rule. She thought she was made as a god, and walked among mortals.

  Another of the Intelligencers was in the Tyche’s hold, talking with Kohl. Chad. A reasonable man. Took his gifts like they were no particular thing of value or benefit. A little like Grace, but less good with a sword. Still good enough to beat Nate like a carpet. Nate had entered part-way through a conversation that sounded jovial enough, although with the slurring of Kohl’s words you could never tell when a squall might hit.

  Kohl was holding out a laser carbine to Chad. “It’s a beauty, innit?”

  Chad took the offered weapon. Shouldered it, sighted down the barrel. Lowered it, like he was feeling the weight. “Sure is,” he said. “Sure you don’t want to sell it?”

  “Nah,” said Kohl. “Hope fixed it for me. Said the targeting matrix computer didn’t know what Ezeroc looked like. So now it does. I don’t know. What’s a targeting matrix computer?”

  Chad handed the weapon back. “Real collector’s piece, that one. I don’t know where you got it. Rare. What with AI being outlawed. That one’s got to circle real close to the drain.”

  “Ain’t AI,” said Kohl. “It doesn’t talk back.”

  “Captain,” said Chad, like he’d only just noticed Nate standing there. Maybe he had; Nate’s sword did a fine job of hiding him from Intelligencers. But Chad still had two good eyes. “We were just talking shop.”

  “So I see,” said Nate. “How’d today’s recruiting go, Kohl?”

  “Well enough,” said Kohl. “I mean,” and here, he counted on his fingers, moving his lips silently, “I guess we got about a couple hundred new bodies for the grinder.”

  “Uh,” said Chad. “I think of them as cohorts of the cause.”

  “Sure, that,” said Kohl. “Anyway, you pay ‘em, they’ll turn up for war.”

  “Pay?”

  “Pay.” Kohl nodded. “Wars don’t get fought on an empty stomach.”

  “Okay,” said Chad, looking ill. “Captain, if I might have a word?”

  “It’s okay, Chad,” said Kohl. “I was just going to grab some chow. See you ‘round.” He clasped Chad in a big hug, and Nate was surprised to see Chad return the embrace. “Be safe, you hear? I won’t be around to pull your ass out of another insect nest.”

  “Sure, Kohl,” said Chad. “Try not to get yourself killed before I get the chance to win my coins back at cards.”

  “Keep dreaming,” said Kohl. He cocked his gaze at Nate. “You know these guys can’t read minds for shit when you’re drunk?” And with that, he lumbered off, pulling himself up the ladder to the crew deck.

  Nate watched him go, waiting. No need to fill a silence with noise when dealing with an Intelligencer. Some were good, or trying to be. But when you were dealing with people who could read your mind, see your intent, sometimes before you did? Well, those encounters were best to freestyle a little.

  “So,” said Chad. “You’ve been to see Amedea?”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. “She’s … coming along.”

  “She’ll get there,” said Chad. “We all will. It’s … hard, Nate. To be on top, and then just be one of the team. A small part. A tiny part. You know what I mean?”

  “I’ve got a ship with five souls against the universe,” said Nate. “Against a new Empire in all but name. Against an alien race that wants to suck out our brains. I figure I got some idea.”

  Chad laughed. “I guess you do, at that. I’m just not used to it.”

  “You know what, Chad?” said Nate. “I think you’ll do just fine. I’d have tossed you out an airlock otherwise.”

  “Uh,” said Chad, shifting his weight. “Thanks?”

  “Also,” said Nate, “you did your part. Stayed on the Tyche. Rode the storm with us. Put yourself in the way of harm. Stood against the mighty, when you were weak. So, if you ever need a berth? There’s one here for you.”

  Chad looked down, contemplating his feet, the deck, or the universe in general. “Thank you,” he said. “Grace said you were … different. I didn’t believe.”

  “I’m not different,” said Nate. “I’m the same. You’ve just been looking in all the wrong places.” He offered Chad a smile. “You going to be ready? When we call, Chad, we need you to be ready. There’s a lot riding on you answering the comm. My skin, that and my crew. Not to mention the whole human race.”

  “We’ll be ready,” said Chad. “We’ve got a lot to do, but we’ll be ready.” He offered a hand, which Nate took. “Godspeed, Captain.”

  Nate watched him leave the Tyche. Chad didn’t look back, because this wasn’t goodbye as much as until next time. Nate breathed a little easier, and spoke to no one in particular. “Hear that, Tyche? Someone’s getting it. We’re flying with the Goddess of Luck.”

  • • •

  Nate sat on the acceleration couch next to El. She was looking pissed off, her hands on the comm. “Dock control?”

  “This is Dock Control. You are not cleared for launch, Tyche.” They said it tai chi, not tai kee.

  “Two things,” said El. “First, there ain’t no tai chi here. This ship is not named after an ancient fighting art. It’s Tyche. Say it. Say the ship’s name.”

  “Uh.”

  “Say. The fucking. Name,” said El.

  “Tyche,” said the comm.

  “Better,” said El. “Second thing, why the fuck are we not cleared for launch?”

  “Random inspection,” said the voice at the end of the comm.

  “How about randomly choosing not to?” said El. “We’re on the clock. You know, alien invaders. Whole human-race-might-die thing.” Nate watched as she cocked her head. “You guys get the memo on that? About Earth? The moon? The whole—”

  “We heard, Tyche. Still. That’s what makes the Republic run so well. Random inspections.”

  “Random inspections, the very thing that delay departures, keep the Republic running well?” El frowned. “Look, I’ll make it simple for you. We’re leaving in five. If you’ve got us chained to the ground, we’re just going to tear a piece of your pretty space port out.”

  “Tyche, may I remind you—”

  “You can do whatever you like as long as that lockdown’s lifted.” She clicked the comm to the ship channel. “Hope?”

  “You’ve got Hope.”

  “We’re on lockdown.” El tapped her fingers. “Can you do anything about that? I don’t want Kohl to murder any pencil necks who come onboard with an attitude. We just got the ship clean.”

&
nbsp; There was a pause. “What lockdown?”

  “My girl,” said El, then changed back to the Dock Control channel. “Thank you, Dock Control.”

  “Uh,” said the voice.

  “Much obliged. Thanks for lifting the lockdown.”

  “We haven’t. I mean—”

  “Have a great day,” said El, clicking the comm off. She looked at Nate. “Good to go?”

  “You know I love watching you work,” said Nate. He waved a hand out the window. “Do your thing.”

  “Thing being done,” said El. She worked the console, the ship rumbling around them. “Let’s see. Endless systems are go. Let’s take a walk.” She grabbed the sticks, turning on the negative mass generator, and the Tyche rose from the ground. Nate felt the ship move under him as it pointed its nose to the stars. “And, walking.” El pushed forward on the throttle, and the Tyche’s fusion drives roared, clearing their dual throats, building a pillar of fire under them. Nate was pressed back into his seat, the force of the thrust holding him there like the hand of God. Or, the hand of a Goddess.

  “Thought you said ‘walk,’” said Nate.

  “This is a walk,” said El. “Barely moving.” But she gave him a smile. Because she was a Helm, and Helms loved to fly.

  • • •

  “Last stop before we breeze on out of here,” said Nate. “There’s a fair wind at our backs, but we need to leave a message.”

  They were navigating towards the Guild Bridge, the massive ring still running to time. Wars or insects, it didn’t matter. The Guild didn’t tolerate a disruption to revenue. That was one thing you could always count on, rain or shine, war or peacetime: coin still talked.

  El brought the ship close to the Bridge, and Nate could see the automated maintenance drones working. Arcs of electricity as they welded spars and struts into place according to their plan. Small flares of drives as they bussed materials from place to place. All silent, a beautiful dance in space. Nate tapped his console, entering a message. Short, simple, to the point: