Darkspace Calamity

by Christopher Bodan

Genres: Media Tie-In

Synopsis

“Relic Knights fans rejoice! Follow your favorite racer on a nonstop roller coaster to save the last galaxy from the Calamity. Sci-fi and fantasy blend in this must-read adventure.” —D. W. Vogel, author of the bestselling Horizon Alpha series

The Calamity is coming. 

Darkspace spreads across the sky as esper—powerful magic that gives everything form and life—is consumed. One by one, the galaxies have vanished. Only a single galaxy remains, and its inhabitants know the Calamity could strike at any moment. 
Princess Malya never wanted much to do with the fate of the galaxy. She’d be happy just to travel around the galaxy participating in the most risky and exhilarating sport in existence. But then a pirate captain tells her that she’s key to his plan that just might stop the Calamity.

It’s a vague plan, and honestly a complete long shot. Even if Malya believes the cryptic prophecy of an insane space witch, the plan requires noble paladins and bloodthirsty corsairs to actually cooperate. With such impossible odds, Malya almost wants to keep running and leave saving the universe to anyone else. 

But even Malya cannot outrun the Calamity. To protect the people she loves and maybe even the galaxy itself, she must pull off her craziest stunt yet.

"The fate of the Last Galaxy rides fast and dangerous on Darkspace Calamity's colorful cast of characters." —Christopher Keene, author of the Dream State Saga

Release date: March 5, 2018

Publisher: Future House

Print pages: 244

Sample

The stars are going out.

Malya blinked and refocused her eyes. She found herself staring up through the transparent roof of the United Stars boarding gallery. The thought had risen unbidden in her mind and pulled her from the pleasant enjoyment of the swirl and rumble of the busy spaceport all around her. Hundreds of people from dozens of species clustered in small knots or formed loose, hopeful lines at passenger gates and boarding ramps. The milling traffic was directed by brisk and efficient staff in the uniforms of various starlines. Her friend Betty stood just behind her, checking ID and itinerary documents. Malya soaked in the wonderful, banal normality of it all.

Their light has gone. The esper that gave them form and motion is gone.

She frowned. Someone had said that to her, once, and she couldn’t remember who or understand why she remembered it now. She glanced around at the crowd, as if a stranger might volunteer the answer, and saw only Betty and the boarding queue for the Tranquil Wind forming swiftly in front of her. She looked back up through the transparent roof at the gathering clouds and the rose-tinted blue sky. Out there, somewhere beyond her sight and Daeveron’s double rings, she thought, the stars still shone.

Except they didn’t, not all of them. Not anymore.

Mr. Tomn had pointed out the wide, brilliant carpet of shining stars from the view ports of dozens of starships. Her cypher always pointed to the vast, black swaths of sky next. “They used to be full of stars, of galaxies, of so many people,” he had said more than once. She shook her head. Not now. Not on her vacation.

But she couldn’t stop. Her mind flashed to the esper crystals growing so thickly that they choked the life from whole worlds, of Darkspace creeping closer and eating the stars one by one. She closed her eyes and pushed the thoughts down, but she knew that she could not forget, not really, not for long.

She ground her teeth and fought back to the present. She smiled humorlessly and scrubbed her face with firm fingers. “I definitely need this time off,” she muttered. “I’m tripping over my own mind.” She adjusted her cape so that its hood fell a bit further down over her face. The whole point was to avoid getting recognized.

She nearly jumped to the roof when Betty tapped her on the shoulder. “Whoa. Easy there,” the small mechanic said. “You okay? You looked like you wandered off for a minute.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Malya said. “I’m good. Just—tired.”

“Well, pay attention.” Betty smiled and pointed past Malya’s shoulder.

Malya turned and saw that the line had firmed up in front of them, and she trotted to close the gap. She glanced around a bit sheepishly and then looked down. Just ahead of her stood a tonnerian family. The large matriarch’s feline features twisted in annoyed concentration as she tried to juggle luggage and boarding passes and identity papers and four children. They seemed almost completely focused on each other, except for one young girl at the back. She had turned to watch Malya hurry toward them.

The girl had adorable dark stripes running down the fur around her eyes and over her muzzle. Her perked ears twitched around curiously, waving their red-dusted tufts. She had huge brown eyes—tonnerians often did at that age—and they opened as wide as they could to stare at Malya.

Malya stared back for a moment and then smiled and winked. The girl blinked and her mouth dropped open. Malya’s smile widened. The girl glanced over her shoulder at the distracted woman.

When the girl turned back to Malya, she shuffled closer. “Are you Princess Malya?” she asked in a low voice. Her tail twined and loosened unconsciously at the small of her back.

Malya almost couldn’t hear the girl over the chatter of the crowd and crew. She leaned down. “Maybe.”

The girl sniffed. “I saw you race once, on holovid. You didn’t win.”

Malya heard a muffled snort. She glanced back to see Betty covering her smirk and tactfully looking away.

Malya shrugged at the little girl. “Sometimes you don’t win, sometimes you do. That’s why you run the race, to find out.”

The girl scratched at the fur around her right ear. “My dad says you almost always win. I like that.”

Malya chuckled. “So do I, but it doesn’t mean as much if you don’t lose sometimes. What’s really important is that you come out ahead in the end and have a good time doing it.” She tapped the girl’s shoulder. “Are you going all the way to Catermane?”

“No,” the girl said, looking around. “We’re going to Fornor to see my aunt.” She looked back before Malya could answer. “Are you going to Catermane?”

“Yes.”

“Mom says that Catermane is full of witches and troublemakers.”

Malya laughed softly. “Well, then, it sounds like I’ll like it there. We’re going for a festival.”

“Are you—” The girl stopped as her mother turned around and noticed her.

“Kollia, what are you doing? I’m so sorry, miss. She’s sometimes a, little, um, too, ah, friendly . . .” The woman’s voice stumbled and broke off.

Malya stood and saw recognition dawn on the other woman. Malya smiled, put her finger over her lips, and winked. Then she pulled her hood back up so that it fell over her face and covered her distinctive sky-blue and blonde hair. “No problem,” she said as warmly as she could. The line had started to move when the woman turned for her daughter, and Malya pointed at the gap opening up. “We better get going.”

“I—um, yes.” She fumbled a bit, and Malya picked up the handle of some of the family’s loose luggage and started forward. “Um, thank you. I—I hope she wasn’t bothering you.”

“Not a bit,” Malya said brightly. “Have fun on Fornor.”

“We will. I—How did . . . ?” The crew whisked her aboard before she could finish.

Malya smiled and waved.

Betty stepped up to hand off her own luggage. “Well that was uncommonly kind of you.” She swatted Malya’s shoulder.

“You know me. Always happy to meet a fan.”

Betty eyed her. “Especially if they’re not demanding that you sign everything they shove in your face. Still, you’re in a funny mood.”

“Am I?” Malya asked, trying to sound amused but not quite getting there.

Betty nodded, less amused than the princess had hoped for.

Malya sighed and tried to ignore the knot forming gently in her stomach. “Well, maybe. I just want to get this whole thing started.” Her smile turned wry. “Which seems strange, I guess. Hurry up and relax.” She strode up the ramp and handed her boarding pass to the attendant at the top. “Where’s Rin?”

Betty shrugged. “Last I saw, she was arguing with the cargo crew about something.”

“Of course she is.” Malya sighed and looked up. She saw a small, fur-covered face glancing over a rail down at her. Malya waved and smiled. “I didn’t think I’d be recognized quite so soon.”

“You’re hopeless,” Betty replied, turning over her own papers. “You’re one of the most famous racers in a generation on the most famous racing circuit in the galaxy. Nobody else has her face plastered over as many billboards, brochures, or holodisplays.” She shook her head. “This just makes me extra glad that we booked private cabins for this trip.”

Malya sighed and followed the steward down the corridor. “Me too, I guess. I really need some quiet time.”

“Clearly.” Some quality in Betty’s voice turned Malya’s head, and she saw her friend stepping aside and flagging down another steward. “That just makes me think of something,” Betty said. “You go get settled. I’m going to check on the pit crew.”

“They’re fine,” Malya called as the small woman trotted away. “They’re—Oh, forget it.” She shrugged and shook her head before turning back to the steward. “After you, good sir.”

The man nodded and started off smartly. Malya strolled after him, mostly gazing out the long armor glass viewing port beside her. The occasional reflections from holodisplays caught her eye, but she resolutely ignored them. She snagged a drink from a tray as they breezed past and then spent an awkward few moments trying to find a place to leave the empty glass. It felt like they had walked through half the ship before the steward finally tapped a wall control and gestured her inside the sliding door.

Malya gasped at the luxurious interior of the first-class cabin. It put her in mind—in the most pleasant way—of the better guest rooms in her parents’ palace on Ulyxis, the ones made up to impress visitors without seeming ostentatious or garish. She almost bounced through the door into the long, luxurious room. Bright, textured pelex wall panels slowly shifted colors like waves flowing over her. A faint scent of crisp air and salt water settled over her, and heat came from a warm, flickering light on a floor panel at the far end, suggesting a fire.

After a quick glance at the open door, Malya unhooked her cape and freed her hair, so long bound with pins that it felt like straw. With no one watching, she felt free to finally relax her control a bit. Flashes of blue, green, and pink energy appeared almost instantly, drifting around her head and fingers like dust motes dancing in sunlight. Before she started winning anything like decent money, she had spent cycles poking her nose into the seedier parts of the galaxy or the low-rent sections of Cerci. She ran her fingers lightly over the cool flexisteel and patterned garowood bar. This wasn’t half bad. For all the purses she had won and endorsements she had earned, she had never thought to spend her money on furnishings. She wondered briefly if she should.

The esper that floated past her eyes started moving to a space over the bar. The motes swirled and flowed together, and her cypher materialized from the air with an almost audible pop. He regarded the room with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation that she suspected matched her own. Mr. Tomn barely topped two feet high, and his off-white fur and pink markings combined with his bright eyes made him look like nothing so much as an animate stuffed animal. She knew better, of course. She could feel the esper, the raw power of creation, flowing from him along their connection. Flesh, blood, and fur he might be, but he was a creature formed directly from the raw building block of creation and bonded to her as closely as her lungs or limbs. She scratched behind his long, floppy ears.

He also, she knew, had his own ideas and agenda. She stepped back and turned a dubious expression on him. “Have you been talking in my head?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you have to ask . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Okay.”

“Not that you couldn’t use a talking-to.”

Malya frowned. “Not now. I hear enough doom and gloom without you piling on.”

“Most people can only watch the doom and gloom, princess. You can actually do something about it.” He wiggled his nose, which detracted somewhat from the gravity of his words.

“Don’t start.” It came out more sharply than she intended, but she let it stand.

“Such is the life of a Knight.”

“A life I didn’t choose, thank you very much.”

“But a life you have, nevertheless,” Mr. Tomn said matter-of-factly. His voice turned more serious, more imploring. “The universe grows dark. A century ago, you could look at the sky and see the light still traveling from stars that died a billion cycles before. That light should have shone for a billion cycles more, but it’s gone now. The esper that powered that light has been drained from the universe. You’ve seen this.”

“Yes,” she nearly shouted. “Yes. I’ve seen it. And I’ve seen that there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“That’s not true,” he shot back. “And you know that too.” He crossed his arms and turned away, pouting.

“So you always say. But you know what else you say?” She glared at him. “Not yet. For all the questing we’ve done, for all the firefights and fistfights, you still say not yet. Why?”

He looked a little embarrassed. “The Source hasn’t appeared, but I’m afraid that when it does, there won’t be much time. Something is interfering.”

“And that sort of vague nonsense—” Malya cut off her own words and simply fumed. “Look. If and when there’s something I can actually do to help, I’ll try. You know that.”

Mr. Tomn nodded diffidently, but Malya held his gaze until he acknowledged her more firmly.

“But for now, I need some rest. We’ve been running nonstop for cycles. Between racing, whatever cockamamie scheme you cook up on any given day, and the gaggle of goons we seem to attract, I haven’t had a moment’s peace in a long time.” She arched her eyebrow and lightened her tone as an olive branch. “You’re a trouble magnet, you know. All cyphers are.”

Mr. Tomn snorted. “You don’t need the help, princess.”

“So,” she said after a beat, her eyes half-lidded, “are you going to give me a hard time for kicking back a bit?”

Mr. Tomn made a show of gravely considering the question but could not hold back his grin. He took a running leap from the bar and landed on the padded bench seat beneath the armor glass viewport. He flopped over onto his back. “Nope. You’re right. We’ve earned it.” He glanced at her. “But only for a little while. Something tells me we need to take this trip anyway.”

Malya decided that was the best she was going to get from him and nodded firmly. “Good.”

She knelt on the deep upholstery beside him and stared out the windows at the dock crews loading the last of the luggage and cargo into the ship. She could not stop smiling. The journey stretched out before her like a clear road on a bright day. She heard people almost arguing in the hall, approaching, and she cocked her head to listen.

She recognized Betty almost at once and then giggled lightly when she identified Rin’s firm, rich voice complaining.

“No, I don’t see why they had to take it.”

“You don’t see why a civilian passenger ship wants you to stow a high-powered sniper rifle in the secure cargo hold?” Betty asked. Malya could almost hear the small mechanic rolling her eyes.

“It’s my carry-on,” Rin said sourly.

“No, it’s not,” Malya called without turning. “We told you that.” She watched the dock crews below them, searching.

“It fits and everything,” Rin replied, exasperated. “I measured it.”

“I don’t even know why you brought that thing.” Betty’s voice had gotten a little shrill, but the tightness around her eyes looked more anxious than angry.

“First,” Rin replied, “that ‘thing’ is called Rudy, and you know it. Second, you brought that huge wrench of yours. When did you think you might need that?”

“The princess is performing, right? I thought I might, you know, need to do my job.”

Malya could feel the satisfaction rolling off of Rin. “Exactly.”

“We’re going to Catermane, the very heart and soul of the Doctrine. We’ll be in the center of Doctrine space, surrounded by wizards and other esper-wielders dedicated to making sure we stay safe and happy. If you ever feel like you have to do your ‘job’, then something’s gone horribly wrong.”

“It’s a dangerous galaxy,” Rin mused.

“Sure, but we won’t have to worry about that when we get there, and until then,” she gestured around her. “Where exactly did you think you were going to use a sniper rifle on this ship? Besides,” she said, turning brittle, “if Lug has to stay down there, then so does your Rudy.”

“It’s not the same,” the tall woman said. “He doesn’t fit in the passenger sections, and he knows it. He volunteered.”

Malya turned slightly to see Rin flop into an overstuffed chair, her strawberry blonde hair completely covering its back. Two ceiling panels slid back in response and large holodisplays swung down from each.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Betty replied, her voice sinking. She settled onto the corner of the bench seat and wrung her hands gently. “He did.”

Both displays automatically brightened and started playing the same news feeds as the others on the ship, all discussing the Darkspace Calamity. Malya frowned at them for a few seconds before Rin found the control panel in the chair’s armrest and shut them off. Betty did not seem to notice.

Malya’s excitement dimmed a bit as she watched Betty’s anxious sadness over Lug. No one expected the chee to ride in the cargo bay; she had seen other members of the sentient machine race all over, just on her short trip to the cabin. Even an industrial model like Lug could find room in the better sections, but he had immediately claimed a space as cargo as soon as she had announced this trip.

“He’s okay,” Rin said. “He said so, remember? He’s in one of his moods where he doesn’t really want to socialize with anyone. You know how he gets. Besides, he’s got a datajack and the specs for the new model year racers. He’s going to be fine.”

“For three weeks?”

“It’s not quite that long to Catermane,” Malya said, trying to lighten the mood with her cheerful tone.

“It would’ve been faster if we went straight from Cerci.”

“Sure,” the princess replied, “but I wanted to keep a low profile and get some quiet time, remember? Give me a chance to forget about things for a while.” She smiled over at Mr. Tomn, who remained stretched out with his eyes shut. “At least as much as I can forget.”

No cypher bonded to a sentient without a greater purpose, someone had told her once. She wished she could remember who. The stories said that Knights, sentients bonded with a cypher, all had a destiny, some part to play in the coming Calamity. Mr. Tomn sat up suddenly and looked in her eyes.

She blinked and turned to Betty. “Did the pit crew get settled?”

“Yeah, they’re all tucked in down on first class,” Betty said, accepting the distraction. “I’m not sure most of ‘em quite know how to behave there, but nobody’s complaining about you springing for the good tickets.”

Malya smiled and turned back to the window. A little chill fell over her shoulders and settled in her stomach. Out the window, she saw a cargo mover with the last of the large items for the hold. The heavy, nondescript crate it carried bore only the diplomatic seal of Ulyxis and could have contained any official cargo—but it did not. Malya could feel her relic Sedaris folded up and packed away in there, and she yearned for it with something that felt like hunger.

She had dug that magnificent machine from the crumbling wreck of a ruin on Vordexis Major two months after her third Prime win. Injured, pursued by assassins, and hopelessly lost, Mr. Tomn had guided her to a sacred place. There he had poured a torrent of esper into her. He had shown her a truth of the universe, a truth of passion and joy and creation through pure speed, and it had coalesced into her relic Sedaris. She would need it, he’d said; need its incredible swiftness, its strong frame, and its long blade. Now, she felt soft and vulnerable without it. She pushed aside the impulse to summon it, to force the esper to materialize the racer in front of her. It took quite an effort.

Malya swallowed and shook her head. “Well, we’re all out of our comfort zone right now.” She settled into the seat. “It’ll do us all good to get away for a bit.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Rin said. “What is it you’re trying to get away from, exactly—the fame, the celebrity? It’s not the racing; you live for that.”

“It’s the—” Malya paused, trying to find alternates to the words that leapt to mind; saying them out loud would make the whole impulse seem wrong. “It’s the responsibility,” she said, and realized too late that she meant exactly that. “To—Ah, to everyone. About everything. The fans, the promoters, the organizers, the sponsors. I feel like I owe everybody some of my time and energy, and I don’t have any left for, you know, just enjoying what I’ve got. I guess.”

“Well, I’m all for a little R’n’R,” Betty said, visibly trying to relax, “but we’ve only got so much time, you know? The galaxy doesn’t stop turning just ‘cause you’re dizzy.”

“No, but I’d still like a chance to catch my breath.” She shrugged and forced a chuckle. “I mean, you win the Cerci Prime all three times in the same year, I think you should get to savor that, right?” Her eyes unfocused for a moment, and she thought she could see dead stars. “Need to think about what’s next and not think about other things.”

Betty frowned, and Rin cast a dubious look at the princess. Mr. Tomn watched her expectantly.

She frowned at him and sighed. “Look, we’re committed to celebrating the Festival of Scrolls on Catermane. We’re going to perform, relax, and have a good time. We’re on this ship for three weeks, and then we’ve got a couple of weeks back to Cerci. We’ll be rested, refreshed, and then we’ll figure out what’s going to happen next.” She glared at Mr. Tomn.

“Time for rest and reflection is a luxury not often granted to a Knight,” the cypher said, unmoved.

“Well, then let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” She looked up. “Rin, call room service. I figure we’ve got to kill a few hours before mister mouth here,” she nodded to her cypher, “can break us into the secure cargo hold.”

Both of the women brightened up. “Yes ma’am,” Rin said and reached for the intercom.

Golden Vance sat in the Black Spot’s command chair and brooded. He unconsciously flexed the stained and pitted manipulators of his industrial-grade cybernetic arm as his thoughts rolled and darkened. What good was the life of a free and independent corsair, he wondered, if he still had to jump and come calling at someone else’s whim? Who was Kate, and especially Harker, to call him here to this black nowhere? And what did it say about him that he answered?

Outside the armored viewport of his ship’s bridge, the stars and shifting wonders of wildspace drifted past unnoticed. The call would come soon, he knew; Harker was never late . . .