Beyond the Stars: At Galaxy's Edge

“DO YOU HAVE any idea who I am?” Wes asked, resting his hand casually on the grip of his Welks. The heavy pistol felt massive strapped at his side, and he prayed he wouldn’t have to draw it. The last time he’d fired the weapon his wrist had hurt for three days.

“Yeah,” the armored, much larger, figure on the barstool next to him said, looming a bit closer. “You’re the guy whose arms I’m about to pull off.”

Wes considered his options, which seemed markedly limited. The man, if it was a man, wore a full suit of iron grey power armor. He wasn’t familiar with the model, though the fact that it had four arms suggested Ikadian design. If that was the case then only a shot to the faceplate had any chance of penetrating. Unfortunately he wasn’t a very good shot, and given how badly he was shaking his aim would be even worse.

“Listen, friend,” Wesley drawled, playing for time. He drew on all the frontier holos he’d grown up with, trying to channel the hero. “I don’t know what your quarrel is, but I’ve had a tough day. I just want to have a brandy and get some sleep. What’s say we just pretend we never met, and then we don’t have to make a mess all over the bartender’s nice furniture?”

“Don’t hold back on account of me,” the bartender chittered, a tall skinny Rhoidian with mottled green skin. His antennae quivered in amusement, the only readable expression on an insectoid face.

Great. Wes darted a glance at the door. He might be able to keep tables between himself and the four armed bully long enough to escape out the door, but if he ran he’d never be able to set foot here again. That would make it impossible to hire a ship, which would make the entire trip a waste of time. He’d have to return to Corentia a failure. There had to be another option.

The armored figure moved with incredible speed, making his decision for him. The two bottom arms lunged, metallic claws reaching for his waist. At the same time the upper right claw sailed toward his face, and Wes knew that if it connected his jaw would be liquefied by the impact. He scrambled backward, his right foot catching on the bottom of the stool. The motion spilled both him and the stool to the pitted metal floor, and he landed heavily on his back as the robotic limbs swung through the space he’d just occupied. Wes snapped up the strap on the holster, wrenching the Welks out and aiming for the faceplate. He squeezed the trigger, elated as the weapon gave a deep boom. He’d remembered to take the safety off this time.

The armored figure staggered back as his faceplate shattered. Unfortunately, Wes wasn’t in any position to appreciate it. The recoil from the shot snapped the pistol back, and there was a thunderous crack as it crushed his nose. He tasted blood and snot, blinking away tears as he scrambled backwards. Through the shattered faceplate he saw his assailant’s face, and he nearly wet himself as he realized what he was facing. That face was a marbled grey and white, with the angular features of a Marbok. The thing inside the armor had a carapace made of stone, and was probably tougher out of the armor than it was in it. His shot to the faceplate hadn’t done more than upset it.

“Oh vuck,” he muttered, tasting more blood.

“Why don’t you leave the kid alone, Gantok?” a clear feminine voice rang out, drawing his gaze. “He’s already broken his own nose, and he’s clearly about to wet himself.”

Wes saw a woman rising from a table just a few feet away. Her garb was similar to his own, a brown duster over black leather pants and a plain white shirt. The difference though, was hers was worn from long use. His own had been purchased just prior to the trip, and had been pristine until he’d bled all over them. The woman took a step toward the Marbok, drawing a shotgun from her boot holster. The weapon looked lethal, though it was probably not much of a threat to a Marbok. Her face made the gun look friendly. She was maybe forty, with shoulder length blonde hair and frosty grey eyes.

“Stay out of this, Tysha. He damaged my armor. I’m going to pulp him. I’ll pulp you too, if you don’t get the frag out of the way,” the Marbok rumbled. Wes scrambled back again, stopping when he unexpectedly bumped into another figure. This one had also risen from the woman’s table, and was even more intimidating.

The man towered over Wes, all muscle and scowls. He had dark skin and long, black dreads. That wasn’t what made him so terrifying though. He wore a skin-tight red and black suit, the mark of a Melter. As in brain Melter. Fortunately he didn’t seem to notice Wes, instead folding his arms across his chest as he stared at the Marbok.

“You’re going to walk away,” the blonde woman said, taking a protective step in front of Wes. “Or Tantor here is going to boil your brains until you’re about as intelligent as the rock that birthed you.”

The Marbok shot Wes another glare, and Wes dropped eye contact immediately. No sense inflaming the situation further. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the Marbok’s attention focused on the Melter, Tantor apparently. Its eyes narrowed, but then it spun on a metallic heel and stalked out of the bar. It kicked the table closest to the door on the way out, shattering it into a pile of plastic shards. Wes winced, knowing that could have been him.

“You can get up now,” came a pleasant voice from the table.

Wes scrambled to his feet, sizing up the speaker. She was a beautiful brunette about his age, with light green eyes and a dimpled smile. The grease stains on one worn leather sleeve suggested she was a mechanic. Another woman sat next to her, a redhead in her early thirties. She was sipping something pink, and had a single eyebrow raised. The motion exposed a bit of chrome near her temple. A pilot then.

“Thank you,” Wes said, trying to regain his composure. He faced the blonde woman with the shotgun. “You may have just saved that Marbok’s life. I didn’t want to resort to further violence, but I’d have done what I had to.”

“Which is what, bleed on him?” the redhead said, eliciting laughter from the pretty mechanic. Wes’ cheeks heated.

The Melter shot the pair a baleful glare, then fished a grey cloth from his pocket and offered it to Wes. “Clean yourself up.”

Wes held the cloth up to his nose, wincing in pain as it rapidly filled with blood. He fumbled at his pistol, managing to holster it less than gracefully on the third attempt.

“You’re an archeologist,” the blonde woman said, returning her shotgun to the boot holster. She settled back into her seat, eyeing him appraisingly as she folded her arms behind her head.

“One of the finest,” Wes assured her, grabbing a chair from the next table and pulling it over. He sat with a flourish, making a great show of removing his duster. He draped it over the chair before sitting. “How did you know?”

“Because we see two or three of you in every port. I’m Tysha, by the way,” the blonde woman said. She offered him a hand, which Wes shook. Her grip was surprisingly firm. Well, maybe not so surprising. “Let me guess. You just graduated from an academy, a prestigious one from the look of you. You shelled out for some fancy clothes, a gun you don’t know how to use, and you hitched a warp on the first transport you could find.”

Wes opened his mouth, then shut it with a click. She was spot on, much as he hated to admit it. “Is it that obvious?”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the mechanic said, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. Her eyes were so green. “Don’t let the captain fluster you. Archeologists aren’t supposed to be fighters. You’re supposed to hire muscle to do that for you.”

“I’m not just an archeologist,” Wes shot back, squaring his shoulders. “I’m a relic hunter, and I’m here in pursuit of an incredible treasure.”

“A relic hunter? Like, from the holos?” the pretty mechanic asked, blinking. She cracked a grin. “I used to watch those too, when I was about ten. Tally ho!”

“Uh,” Wes began, mentally backpedaling. Not many people remembered the Relic Hunter show. “Yeah, kind of like the show. Tally ho,” he trailed off as amused smiles broke out all around him. She’d been playing with him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” the mechanic said, offering a delicate hand. “I’m Sadie. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Wesley VonCamp, the sixteenth,” Wes said, sitting up straighter. “I just graduated from‌—‌”

“Not to cut this short,” the captain interrupted, leaning forward in her chair. “But we’re on a tight schedule. You’re looking to hire a ship, yes?”

“Yes, how did you‌—‌” Wes began.

“A ship that can take you through the debris field to the gas giant below?” the redhead asked. She was the only one who hadn’t offered a name yet.

“That’s right,” Wes said, letting his gaze range over the four strangers. He mopped a bit more blood from his nose, then set the cloth on the table in front of him. “If I can get below the debris field I believe I can get us inside the Elderi Spire. We’ll all be rich and famous. I can pay you well.”

“I think we might be able to come to an arrangement,” the captain said, giving him a smile that wasn’t at all comforting. “We have a ship, a pilot, and a crew capable of getting you onto that station.”

“Lovely,” Wes said, his grin drawing a wince of pain. “How much would it take to hire you?”

“We don’t work for anyone else,” the captain said, shaking her head. She leaned closer still, eyes drawing him in as she lowered her tone. “But we might be willing to add you to our crew. You’d get a standard share, just like the rest of us. If you can really bypass the outer security.”

“That’s a ship?” Wes asked, adjusting his glasses as he studied a vessel that should have been decommissioned before he was born. He stared at the trawler parked outside the station, a sleek chrome boarding tube clashing with the pitted hull. The long tubular ship had a single engine in the back, and tiny thrusters on the sides. It looked like the toy rockets they set off in elementary science, and probably had even less maneuverability. “It looks like floating garbage.”

“Yeah, well beggars and all that,” the captain said, gently but firmly guiding Wes toward the mouth of the docking tunnel. She threw her duster over her shotgun, eyeing a station security officer as they passed. Tysha was obviously in a hurry, though damned if Wes could figure out why. Elderi Spire had been there for millennia, and no one had breached it. They had all the time in the world. He didn’t resist as she hurried him up the docking tube, toward the airlock.

“Let me guess,” Wes said, smiling weakly at the captain. “Your ship has got it where it counts? I’ve watched enough action holo to know she’s probably got some surprises.”

“It will be a surprise if we survive the trip,” Sadie said, rolling her eyes. She quickened her pace until she was at Wes’s side, chestnut hair framing her face. He tried not to stare. “You had it right when you said garbage. Shirley is basically floating garbage that drifts roughly in the direction we tell her to go. There are a half dozen systems that could give in the next hour, and if any one of them does we’ll all die horribly.”

“Uh,” Wes said, the captain all but dragging him toward the ship’s docking port.

“We’ll be fine,” the captain said. “Sadie is an alarmist. We haven’t died yet. I think she just likes making the whole mechanic thing sound hard.”

“You what?” Sadie asked, eyes flashing. Anger rolled off her in waves. “I’ve given you a list of parts. Every day. For months.”

“We don’t have the funds,” the captain countered, refusing to meet Sadie’s gaze. She focused those icy eyes on Wes, deftly trying to change the subject. “Hopefully our new friend here can see to that. You said you can get us inside the Elderi Spire. That sounds like horse crap, but I’m willing to give you a chance.”

The rusty, pitted, airlock door slid grudgingly upward at their approach, the ancient metal grinding to a halt about four feet off the deck. Tantor leaned forward, seizing the base of the door and jerking it up another foot. The door refused to go further, stopping a good foot short of where it should have.

The captain ducked underneath, and one by one so did the others. Wes took a deep breath, then followed. The air beyond was stale. Not life threateningly so, but enough that he had to work a little at breathing. He caught a faint whiff of something foul enough to make his eyes water, and was positive he didn’t want to know what it was.

The lights were dim, flickering occasionally as the crew made their way up the narrow catwalk. It overlooked a sizable hold, currently occupied by nothing more than a large smelly pile of brown goo in one corner. The thing made Wes’ eyes water, and the odor was much more powerful in this room.

“What is that?” Wes asked, withdrawing a handkerchief to cover his mouth.

“Garidian guano,” the Captain said, giving him an impatient look. Wes hurried after her, trying to look unthreatening. He didn’t mind admitting that the woman scared him. She eyed him sidelong, then sighed. “It purifies the air. Stuff produces more oxygen than just about any other recycling system.”

“And it’s free,” Sadie interjected.

They continued up the catwalk and had almost reached a doorway when they were plunged into sudden darkness. The faint whirring of the engines was done.

“Everyone stay where you are for a sec,” Sadie’s voice came from his right. Her boots clomped across the catwalk, and a flashlight flared to life near the far wall. Sadie was bent over some sort of panel, opened to expose a mass of wiring. “Sometimes the main bus shorts, and we have to do a restart. It will only take a minute.”

She hummed to herself, stripping rubber covering back from a pair of wires. Then she briefly touched them together. A spark shot between them. She did it again, then a third time. The ship rumbled reluctantly back to life, and the lights flickered back on. Sadie turned a triumphant smile in his direction, and Wes returned it.

“We can give you an official tour later,” the captain said, pulling Wes along.

She ducked through the hatch beyond the catwalk. It opened into a small kitchen, designed to serve about a half dozen very friendly passengers. The shelves were bare except for a few dozen cans of soytien, and a cistern full of what Wes hoped was water.

The captain grabbed a ladle from the counter, scooping up some liquid and drinking it thirstily. She wiped her chin as she turned to fetch him. “Kestrel, that’s the charming redhead over there, is going to get us underway while you tell us exactly how you plan to get past the Elderi Spire’s security.”

“On it,” the redhead said, jumping up to tap the ceiling as she headed up the corridor leading out the other side of the kitchen.

The captain rested her butt against the sink, crossing her arms and studying him intently. Wes tried not to wither under the scrutiny, but it was hard to maintain composure when staring into that kind of abyss. This woman could kill him if he didn’t produce the results she was after.

“I graduated from Corentia University about a month ago,” Wes said, moving to sit on the bench next to the table. He licked his lips, and resisted the urge to drink from the barrel. He wasn’t quite that desperate yet. “My parents offered to buy me a small vessel so I could explore, but I declined. Instead, I asked them to buy me this. It was a little more expensive, but I persuaded them.”

Wes reached into his collar, tugging at the thin silver chain from under his baggy shirt. He withdrew a small golden amulet that fit in the palm of his hand. It was shaped like a shield, and bore a pair of stylized pistols with crossed barrels. He could feel the glyphs carved into the back, incredibly fine script.

“That’s going to get us past security?” Sadie asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She sat on the bench next to him, leaning closer to study it. Wes tried not to look down her shirt.

“Why would a hunk of gold cost more than a ship?” Tantor rumbled, looming behind Wes. It was damned creepy, especially knowing that the tall black man could quite literally boil his brain. Well maybe not literally, but Wes wasn’t eager to test that.

“Could you stop looming like that?” Wes asked, half turning to face the big man. “It’s very difficult to explain with you lurking there.”

To Wes’s immense surprise Tantor’s expression softened. He met the captain’s gaze, then gave a guilty smile. “Looming is kind of my thing. You know that.”

“Stop scaring the kid,” the captain said, her eyes narrowing.

Tantor dropped his gaze. “Sorry, kid.”

“So this hunk of metal,” Wes said, holding up the amulet. It was heavier than it should have been. “Is a lot more important than it appears. It’s one of three known to exist, each held in a private collection.”

“But what is it?” Sadie asked.

“I recognize the symbol,” the captain said, extending a hand to Wes. He considered for a moment, then gave her the shield. “This is emblazoned above the docking bay at the Spire. I’m starting to think the kid might be on to something. Go on, kid.”

“I noticed that too,” Wes said, grinning. “My thesis was written about the Spire. It’s always intrigued me, the idea that people have been trying to get in for centuries with no luck. I’ve read every account, and studied every vid about the Spire. The sigil is completely absent from every other planet the Elderi inhabited, which suggests that the Spire must be really important.

“During my research I ran across the three amulets. I wasn’t the first to guess that they might be connected, but since there was no obvious key or use for the sigil people dismissed the connection,” Wes continued. He was very conscious of Sadie watching, expression rapt. It made him feel like a real archeologist. “Some people wanted to test them anyway, but none of the private owners were willing to go along with it. I figured the only way to test this was to buy a sigil, and take it to the Spire.”

“So you don’t really have any idea if this will open the door or not?” the captain said, handing the amulet back to Wes. He looped the chain over his neck and tucked it back into his shirt.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but if there is any way to gain entry to the Spire, this is it,” Wes said, probably a bit too eagerly. It was hard not to be enthusiastic about this stuff. “I figure the trip is at least worth the fuel. If I’m wrong, that’s all it will cost you.”

“Captain,” Kestrel’s voice called from the hallway leading deeper into the ship. Footsteps came pounding up the metal floor. Kestrel was panting. “You’re going to want to see this. We’re being hailed.”

“By who?” the captain asked, her eyes going icy.

“The Marbok from the bar,” she said, resting one hand against the wall. “He wants to talk to you, right away.”

Wes became very small, peering from the captain, to the towering Melter, to Sadie. He knew the altercation with the Marbok was his fault, and hoped it wasn’t landing them in trouble.

“Gantok is a pain in the ass, but hopefully we can reason with him,” the captain said, rising from the counter and moving briskly up the hallway. Everyone else followed, so Wes joined the back of the line. They threaded up a narrow corridor, toward the nose of the ship. The walls grew thicker, and the corridor more narrow, the closer they got to the cockpit.

Kestrel reached the cockpit first, sliding into an ancient leather chair that smelled of sweat even from the back of the room. The redhead plugged a ragged cord into her temple, her eyes closing as she slumped into the seat. A moment later a cracked viewscreen above the central console flared slowly to life. It showed a stylized version of Kestrel, her eyes a deep purple and her hair a much less natural shade of red.

“Patching the call through now, captain,” Kestrel said, her holographic likeness disappearing. The screen filled with an unfamiliar bridge, the walls covered in what appeared to be granite. Several stations dotted the cockpit, each a wide black chair rooted into the stone floor. All were manned by dour looking Marbok, though thankfully none had the armor Gantok had worn in the bar.

Wes recognized the Marbok assailant from the bar. Gantok sat in a chair that was raised a little higher than the others, a wide data pad sitting absently on his armored knee. He leaned forward, a weathered crevice appearing in his mountainous face as he slowly smiled. “Hello again, Tysha. I told you this wasn’t over.”

“What do you want, Gantok?” the captain asked, voice flat as the deck. She stared up at the viewscreen, brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder as if the Marbok were the least important thing she had to deal with.

“I’m going to tell you a little story, captain,” the Marbok said, crossing his rocky arms behind his head. “A little worm made his way into that bar looking for a ship to take him to the Elderi Spire. Somehow he convinced a crew that it was worthwhile, a crew with a shrewd reputation. Do you know what that says to me? It says that this little worm might just have a way to breach the security barrier. Why else would you travel out here in that pathetic little frigate? Fuel ain’t cheap, and I know your last few jobs haven’t covered even that much.”

“That’s a real interesting story, Gantok. Let’s say we do have a way past the security barrier. What’s it to you? Scavenger’s code says we get first crack, and you don’t get to interfere,” the captain retorted, the slightest waver leaking into her tone. The Marbok leaned toward the screen to deliver a predatory smile.

“Is that what you’re going to hide behind?” the Marbok said, laughing. Someone off screen joined in. “The code doesn’t mean anything, unless someone involves a magistrate. You’re not important enough for them to even fly out here, and you know it. Let me tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to land, and that little worm is going to open the security gate. Then, once I have confirmation it’s down, I’m going to dock. That’s your chance, Tysha. If you’re smart, you’ll leave the worm behind and get back on your ship. We get the Spire, and you get to live. I’m a fair man, after all.”

Wes shot the captain a tense glance. Would they fight? If the ship could barely fly it was unlikely to do them any good in a firefight, especially against the Marbok. They were known for being tough, and that extended to their vessels.

“Okay,” the captain said, shrugging. “We’ll dock now, and try to get the security grid down. Once we do, my crew is out of here. You get the kid, and you get the Spire. It sucks, but you know you’ve got me. We can’t win in a fight.”

“Very wise, Captain,” the Marbok said, giving a rocky grin. The call was terminated, and the screen went dark.

“You’re, uh, going to turn me over?” Wes asked, suddenly cold. It wasn’t like he could stop them from doing whatever they wanted.

“There’s no way we’re turning over a member of this crew,” the captain said, eyes flashing. “We need to play for time. The Marbok will kill us regardless of what we do. There’s no way they’ll risk us going back and telling people the Spire is open.”

“So what do we do?” Wes asked.

“We get down there and open the security grid. Then we either hope that we can close it behind us, or find some lostek to defend ourselves with,” the captain said, grimly.

Wes raised a hand to his chest, feeling the amulet under his shirt.

Wes had his first real look at the Spire from the tiny window in the airlock door. The snowy white structure grew larger, dwarfing their little vessel as they approached. The place was massive, large enough to house thousands of people. It floated alone, hovering above an orange world he’d seen many times over holo, a hot gas planet ringed with a maze of debris. Derelict ships and hunks of rock floated slowly in orbit, though the space around the spire itself was empty of either.

He recognized the emerald curtain of energy enveloping the spire in a protective bubble; the veil the Elderi had called it. It established a breathable atmosphere, and protected the Spire from collisions.

Shirley inched toward the Spire, shuddering when they finally passed through the veil. Wes peered through the window, mouth falling open as they approached. The structure was magnificent.

“Tantor, you’re the only one who can slow the Marbok down, if it comes to that,” the captain said. She turned to the Melter, who hadn’t spoken since the Marbok had contacted them. The big man nodded at Tysha, still silent. “We’ll do our best to screen you, but have that psi-blade ready.” He nodded again.

“Sadie, I want you to assist the kid with anything he might need,” the captain ordered. Then she turned to Wes, clapping him on the shoulder. “And you’re going to get that door open. We’ll stay out of your way, but I have no idea how long we can keep the Marbok off our backs. If we’re lucky, they’ll really wait until you open the door. From there it’s a race. You need to get inside and... well do something to save our collective asses. Find a weapon, or a way to lock the door behind us.”

“If we do that won’t they blow up the ship?” Sadie asked.

“Better it than us,” the captain shot back. “I’d prefer to find weapons, but we can’t really predict what might be in there. We need to be adaptable.”

The ship shuddered to a halt, then a metallic pinging began from deep within. Wes looked up in alarm, but Sadie touched him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Reactor’s just cooling off. I dropped power a couple minutes ago and we’re just coasting in.”

“Atmosphere verified,” Kestrel’s disembodied voice came from the speakers. “You’re good to go. Try not to get killed. Also, find something to make us rich.”

“All right, let’s go,” the captain said, slamming the square red button next to the airlock. It ground slowly upward, just as it had when they’d entered. It stopped in roughly the same spot, too.

The captain ducked through, then Tantor. Sadie came next, and Wes hesitantly brought up the rear. He’d never been in a situation quite like this, and being assailed by the Marbok certainly had no place in the victory he’d always fantasized about. What if he couldn’t get the security door to lower? They’d probably all die. Hell, they might die even if he did get it down.

Gravity was lower than he was used to, and Wes tried to imitate the others as they bounded toward the security barrier. It was a curtain of green energy much like the one they’d passed through, though this one was brighter, and by all accounts impenetrable. Directly over the barrier was a sigil identical to the one on the amulet. That seemed promising.

“Now what?” the captain asked, turning to Wes.

“Give me a minute,” Wes said, studying the sigil. He darted a glance at Tantor. “And no looming. I need to concentrate.”

Beyond the curtain Wes could see a pair of doors, and over them the Elderi sigil for one. It seemed simple enough, this was the first floor and that was probably the transport that led to the rest of the facility. That much had also been well documented.

“El dahi, con veritat,” a voice said, emanating from the doorway or somewhere near it.

“What’s it saying?” the captain asked, craning her neck to try to get a better look through the energy barrier.

“I’m hardly an expert in Elderi, but roughly translated it means ‘speak the oath,’” he replied. Wes withdrew his amulet, turning it over to study the symbols there. He held them up for the captain’s inspection. “I’m hoping that this is the oath. I don’t know what the words mean, not all of them anyway. But I can pronounce them at least.”

So he did. Wes intoned the words with as much grandeur as he could, in case that helped somehow.

His words died away, and Wes held his breath while he waited. Nothing happened.

“Are you sure you said them right?” Tantor asked, looming again.

“I’m positive,” Wes snapped, holding the amulet close to his face. He adjusted his glasses. Had he missed something?

The amulet grew warmer. Then it became hot. Light flared, then the amulet shot from his hand, directly at his chest. Wes tried to fall back, but the amulet moved in a blur. Heat suffused his chest as it disappeared inside of him. He could feel it there, like a hot coal. Yet his skin was unbroken. His duster hadn’t been damaged either.

“What the hell was that?” the captain asked.

Wes sagged to his knees, catching himself against Sadie. The pain was excruciating, shooting through every part of his body. His entire nervous system burned, and he had no idea why. No idea what this thing was doing to him. Fear and pain fought to overwhelm his senses, but he held on. Whatever it was had been designed for the Elderi. Would it even work on a human?

Then the pain ceased. Wes collapsed bonelessly to the warm metal floor, conscious of a little drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Sadie’s beautiful face appeared next to his, eyes large with concern.

“Wes?” she said, lightly shaking him.

“Sss good,” he said, forcing himself to sit up. And he was good. He felt like he’d just had the most incredible night’s sleep, followed by a cup of the very best espresso Capital had to offer. Wes wiped the drool from his chin.

“The barrier is down,” the captain said, something approaching wonder coloring her voice. It was the first real emotion Wes had seen from her, and he shared it. Then her expression tightened, and Tysha withdrew her shotgun from her thigh holster. “Clock is ticking even faster now. The Marbok will have detected the energy drop.”

Wes knew they were in a hurry, but he couldn’t help it. He stared down the hallway in awe, realizing that they were likely the first people to see beyond this point since the Elderi had vanished seven millennia ago. He’d dreamed of this moment since he’d first entered university.

“Aww, crap,” Tantor said, turning to face the way they’d come.

Wes accepted Sadie’s help getting to his feet, then looked to see what was bothering the man. It was clear exactly what had caught his attention, because the Marbok ship was passing through the energy curtain. The bulky vessel was far larger than the Shirley, at least three hundred meters long. That could hold a lot of cargo, or whole lot of angry Marbok.

The vessel was spherical, with a pair of triangular wings jutting from the midsection. It looked like flying grapefruit. At their current pace they’d be docking in less than two minutes.

“Okay, let’s move,” the captain barked, shoving Wes toward what he presumed to be a transporter of some kind. “Find me a way to seal the door, or to get us deeper inside the Spire. I don’t care which.”

“No pressure,” Wes muttered, hurrying to the smooth white door. It hissed open at his approach, and he looked inside. The wall was covered in sigils, all dark except for one that looked a lot like his amulet. A quick glance back at the security barrier showed no immediate way to raise it, no control panel or switch. “I’m pretty sure I can get this transporter working. It’s similar to the ones on Corentia. I don’t see a way to close the door behind us, though.”

“Okay, that will have to do. Everybody follow Wes,” the captain said, hurrying into the boxy room until she was crowding him. The others arrived a moment later, Tantor and Sadie making the tiny room positively claustrophobic. Wes tapped the sigil that looked like the amulet, uttering a silent prayer to gods he didn’t really believe in.

A warm tingle passed through his body, and the room’s rear wall began to shimmer. It rippled like a pool of water, and when it cleared a sort of portal had opened. On the other side lay what appeared to be a library. The room was lined with shelves, every shelf packed with leather bound books. Plush high-backed chairs dotted the corners, each sitting next to equally ornate end tables.

“Everybody in,” the captain said, nudging Wes toward the portal.

Wes stepped through, bracing himself as he broke the portal’s plane. He didn’t feel a tingle or anything odd, he simply stepped through like it was any other doorway. Wes turned to scan the hallway, looking for a sigil or any other way to close the portal. There was nothing obvious.

“Sadie, you’re next,” the captain ordered, pushing the petite mechanic toward the portal. She walked toward Wes, wide eyes studying the room. Right up until she bumped into the edge of the portal, like it was a pane of glass.

“Ow,” she said, raising a hand to her nose. She blinked, then raised a hand and tried to stick it through the portal. It stopped at the plane, again like it was touching glass. “Looks like you’re the only one who can get inside.”

“What should I do?” Wes called to the captain.

Tysha glanced behind her, then turned an exasperated look at Wes. “If we can’t come to you, then you need to find something that will help us out here. Look around. Quickly.”

“Uhh,” Wes said, spinning slowly in place as he sought anything that might help. “I see a bunch of books lining the walls, and what looks like a smaller room past this one.”

“Lovely,” the captain snapped. She turned to Tantor. “We’ll try to hold them at the tunnel entrance. Sadie, stay here and keep an eye on Wes. Wes, if you like breathing then you’d better find something useful. We’ll hold them for as long as we can.”

Wes gave a nod, fists balling as he walked quickly into the smaller room beyond the first. The books were interesting, but only if he had time to study them. He needed something practical, and he needed it right now.

The smaller room was also lined with bookshelves, just as the first room had been. They hardly seemed in keeping with a technological behemoth like the Elderi, but evidently they’d liked their hard copies. He was more used to digital books, but the Elderi had been sticklers for tradition, especially antiquated ones.

Two plush chairs sat at the far side of the room, each hovering a little off the floor. Wes had no idea what kept them aloft, no one did. They’d seen it in other Elderi tech, and it had never been duplicated or reverse engineered. Many scientists laughingly called it magic, as it seemed to obey none of the laws of psychics.

It was the pedestal in the center of the room that drew his attention though. Sitting atop it were two silver pistols, exact replicas of those depicted on the sigil outside. They were smaller than his Welks, each a solid piece of metal with a narrow trigger guard. There was no obvious clip, or action. He’d never seen anything like them.

Heat bloomed in Wes as he stared at the weapons, and he knew they were meant for him. He walked over to the pedestal, carefully inspecting it from all sides. There didn’t seem to be any traps, and the feeling was growing stronger. Plus, he was out of time. These were weapons, exactly what the captain had asked for.

Wes picked up one of the pistols. A thrill passed through him, an indescribably beautiful feeling. The weapon fit his hand perfectly. It was a part of him in some way he didn’t fully understand. He set the pistol down reluctantly, unbuckling his own weapon and dropping it to the floor. Then he picked up the Elderi belt, buckling the holsters around his waist. Wes drew the second pistol, and picked up the first from the pedestal. The thrill grew stronger. Energy filled him, and he had to suppress a giggle.

“Wes,” Sadie’s panicked voice came from the room beyond. “You’ve got to hurry. Things aren’t looking good here.”

Wes strode back through the library, pistols at the ready. Sadie was peering at him through the portal, and beyond her Wes could see bright flashes. The telltale whump of plasma weaponry mingled with traditional slug fire. Most of the fire came from farther away, from the Marbok, if Wes was any judge.

“You found a couple pistols? I guess that’s something,” Sadie said, looking a little crestfallen.

Wes didn’t answer, the song within him consuming his attention. His body glided along, almost of its own accord. It moved gracefully, a word he’d never, ever have ascribed to himself.

He passed through the portal, then broke into a sprint as he approached the doorway leading back to the hangar. A Marbok body lay just outside, its dull eyes staring unblinkingly at the wall. There wasn’t a mark on him, not that Wes could see anyway.

His holo-honed senses instantly recognized the handiwork of a brain Melter. There was no sign of Tantor, but that wasn’t surprising. Melters could manipulate the minds of others, ensuring that no one noticed them. It made them all but invisible, and was part of why they were the favorite assassins of every noble house.

“Don’t just stand there. Do something,” Sadie said, dropping into a crouch and shielding herself with her arms.

So Wes did. He glided past the captain, who was using the doorway as cover. Six Marbok were fanned out across the hangar, each cradling a long barreled weapon. Those barrels pointed in Wes’s direction, and an instant later they began to boom.

His eyes widened as the rifles began to boom. Wes was positive he was dead.

To his immense surprise, Wes dove into a roll. He tucked his shoulder, using his momentum to catapult back to his feet. Bullets ricocheted from the deck with echoing pings, mere inches away. The Marbok began adjusting their aim, turning like they were stuck in molasses.

Wes had all the time in the world. His arms rose of their own accord, each pistol aimed at the Marbok on either end of their semicircle. Wes’s fingers caressed each trigger, and he walked the silver weapons down the entire line of rocky adversaries. Bolts of green-blue burst from the weapons, catching each Marbok in the face. They were knocked back like boka pins, flung across the deck to land in heaps. None rose.

Another group charged out of the vessel, nearly a dozen. Gantok stood in the back, an enormous axe cradled in one hand. Wes was gripped by the kind of terror he’d not experienced since he used to wet the bed. He was moving toward them, instead of running like any sane man. His body glided into motion, rolling forward and using one of the downed Marbok as cover. Wes fired off a volley, the silver pistols bucking slightly as he filled the air with green-blue bolts. Four Marbok slumped to the deck, enraging the rest.

Wes ducked back behind cover, or rather whatever force was controlling his body did. Bullets thudded into the Marbok corpse, then a loud thump as a plasma bolt shot into the thing. The scent of cooked flesh made his eyes water, but Wes’ body didn’t seem to care. It leapt from cover, rolling to the right. Several shots cracked, all going wide. Then Wes was up again, sprinting forward.

He leapt into the air, kicking off the corpse of a downed Marbok. That gave him the high ground, not just pulling him from the line of fire, but giving him the perfect perspective to rain death on his opponents. He drifted like a kite, sailing slowly over them. The Marbok moved in slow motion, their gravelly voices barking elongated orders. Wes gunned them down without mercy, firing a rapid stream of pulses with impossible accuracy. The Marbok toppled to the deck like toys that had run out of power.

All except for Gantok.

“Wait a minute, kid,” the Marbok said, dropping his axe to the deck. “We can‌—‌”

Wes’s arm shot up, the pistol aligning with the Marbok’s face. It fired before he could even register what was happening. Gantok’s headless body tumbled to the deck. He stared numbly, shocked by the entire event.

“Huh,” the captain said, raising an eyebrow as she stared at the pile of bodies. She rose slowly from cover, walking cautiously in his direction. Tysha actually smiled. “What the nebulas did I just see?”

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Wes said, eyeing his pistols with wonder. “These things are amazing. Clearly they’re more than just guns.”

“Clearly. They’re made from virilium, what the Elderi called starmetal.” Sadie approached cautiously. She stared at one of the pistols, fascinated. “Can I see one?”

“Sure.” Wes offered the weapon to her.

“Ow,” she snapped, dropping it to the deck the moment her fingers closed around it. “It shocked me.”

“This may be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Tantor said, looming behind Wes. It was just as terrifying as it had been in the ship, pistols or not. The big man smiled. “I’m betting the weapons are keyed to the kid somehow. We all saw what happened to the amulet. I think our archeologist took the Elderi course on becoming a certified badass.”

Before Wes could respond the pistols grew hot in his hands, then they began to vibrate. There was a bright flash and they simply disappeared. He could feel them inside his body somehow. “Well that’s certainly handy.”

“Yeah, wonderful. Disappearing guns,” Tysha said, all business again. “Here’s the thing. If nobody can touch them, then we can’t sell them. How much are those books worth? Please say a lot, because we don’t quite have enough fuel to make it to the closest station.”

Wes clamped his mouth shut for a moment. Those books were priceless. Beyond priceless. Even if they were copies of existing works, they’d still be immensely valuable. But if they were undiscovered titles? Houses might kill to posses them.

“Not terribly valuable I’m afraid,” Wes said, giving an exaggerated sigh.

“At least we’re alive,” Sadie said, grinning.

“Yeah, but we are, once again, walking away with nothing,” Tysha said, a glower descending. Tantor matched the expression.

“I’m not sure about that, Captain,” Wes said, nudging her in the shoulder. He pointed at the Marbok vessel. “How do you feel about upgrading your ship?”

Tysha met his gaze, and smiled. “I have a feeling your life is about to get a whole lot more interesting.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Wes said, smiling back. “Shall we?”

Q&A with Chris Fox

What inspired you to become an author?

I did it to impress a girl. We’re getting married so I think it worked. ;)

What’s a typical writing day like?

My writing is usually done by 11 a.m., and I tend to write in 20 minute sprints until I hit my 5,000 word goal.

Who is your favorite author?

Robert Jordan, because he inspired me to want to create my own worlds, then pissed me off enough to actually do it.

Where do you get your ideas?

I find that putting myself in solitude generates all sorts of great questions, and answering them leads to stories. What if there was an advanced culture that we know nothing about? What if aliens landed tomorrow?

You sure have a cool last name.

Yet somehow people still misspell it.

If you need to reach me I can be found at chris@chrisfoxwrites.com. I’d love to hear from you!

By day, I am an iPhone developer architecting the app used to scope Stephen Colbert’s ear. By night, I am Batman. Okay... maybe not. One can dream though, right?

I’ve been writing since I was six years old, and started inflicting my work on others at age 18. By age 24 people stopped running away when I approached them with a new story, and shortly thereafter I published my first one in the Rifter.

Wait‌—‌you’re still reading?

Ok, the facts I’m supposed to list in a bio. As of this writing I’m 38 years old and live just north of the Golden Gate Bridge in the beautiful town of Mill Valley. If you’re unsure how to find it, just follow the smell of self-entitlement. Once you see the teens driving Teslas you’ll know you’re in the right place.

I live in a tiny studio that I can cross in (literally) five steps and don’t own an oven. But you know what? It’s worth it. I love developing iPhone apps and if you want to work in San Francisco you accept that rent for a tiny place costs more than most people’s mortgage.

If you and about 2 million other people start buying my books I promise to move out of Marin to a house in the redwoods up in Guerneville. No pressure. Wait, that’s a lie. Pressure.