The Clan Chronicles--Tales from Plexis Read online

  The Finest in DAW Science Fiction and Fantasy by JULIE E. CZERNEDA:

  THE CLAN CHRONICLES:

  Stratification:

  REAP THE WILD WIND (#1)

  RIDERS OF THE STORM (#2)

  RIFT IN THE SKY (#3)

  The Trade Pact:

  A THOUSAND WORDS FOR STRANGER (#1)

  TIES OF POWER (#2)

  TO TRADE THE STARS (#3)

  Reunification:

  THIS GULF OF TIME AND STARS (#1)

  THE GATE TO FUTURES PAST (#2)

  TO GUARD AGAINST THE DARK (#3)

  TALES FROM PLEXIS

  NIGHT’S EDGE:

  A TURN OF LIGHT (#1)

  A PLAY OF SHADOW (#2)

  SPECIES IMPERATIVE:

  Omnibus Edition

  SURVIVAL | MIGRATION | REGENERATION

  WEB SHIFTERS:

  BEHOLDER’S EYE (#1)

  CHANGING VISION (#2)

  HIDDEN IN SIGHT (#3)

  WEB SHIFTER’S LIBRARY:

  SEARCH IMAGE (#1)

  IN THE COMPANY OF OTHERS

  THE GOSSAMER MAGE*

  *Coming soon from DAW Books

  Copyright © 2018 by Julie E. Czerneda.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Roger Czerneda.

  Cover design by Roger Czerneda and G-Force Design.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 1810.

  Published by DAW Books, Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780756413958

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  Version_1

  To Ruth “Ruti” Stuart

  Bard of the Grey Stone Tower,

  Heart-kin to us all.

  We will remember.

  Acknowledgments

  A Hold Full of Truffles © 2018 Julie E. Czerneda

  The Stars Do Not Dream © 2018 Amanda Sun

  Finding Parker © 2018 Doranna Durgin

  A Traded Secret © 2018 Donald R. Montgomery

  Anisoptera With a Side Order of Soft Blast © 2018 Fiona Patton

  Jilly © 2018 Paul Baughman

  Chicken © 2018 Elizabeth A. Farley-Dawson

  An Elaborate Scheme © 2018 Marie Bilodeau

  The Sacrifice of Pawns © 2018 Mark Ladouceur

  Little Enigmatic Monster © 2018 Wayne Carey

  A Thief by Any Other Name © 2018 Violette Malan

  Memory © 2018 Sally McLennan

  Home is a Planet Away © 2018 Ika Koeck

  Will of the Neblokan Fates © 2018 Natalie Reinelt

  The Rainbow Collection © 2018 Nathan Azinger

  A Song of Plexis © 2018 Janet Elizabeth Chase

  Cinnamon Sticks © 2018 B. Morris Allen

  The Locksmith’s Dilemma © 2018 Rhondi Salsitz

  A Traitor’s Heart © 2018 Karina Sumner-Smith

  The Restaurant Trade © 2018 Chris Butler

  The End of Days © 2018 Tanya Huff

  Good With Numbers © 2018 Heather LaVonne Jensen

  The Materials at Hand © 2018 Jessica McAdams

  Contents

  Also by Julie E. Czerneda

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to Plexis

  How to Read This Book

  A Hold Full of Truffles by Julie E. Czerneda: 1

  The Stars Do Not Dream by Amanda Sun

  Truffles: 2

  Finding Parker by Doranna Durgin

  Truffles: Interlude

  A Traded Secret by Donald R. Montgomery

  Truffles: 3

  Anisoptera With a Side Order of Soft Blast by Fiona Patton

  Truffles: Interlude

  Jilly by Paul Baughman

  Truffles: 4

  Chicken by Elizabeth A. Farley-Dawson

  Truffles: 5

  An Elaborate Scheme by Marie Bilodeau

  Truffles: Interlude

  The Sacrifice of Pawns by Mark Ladouceur

  Truffles: Interlude

  Little Enigmatic Monster by Wayne Carey

  Truffles: 6

  A Thief by Any Other Name by Violette Malan

  Truffles: 7

  Memory by Sally McLennan

  Truffles: Interlude

  Home is a Planet Away by Ika Koeck

  Truffles: 8

  Will of the Neblokan Fates by Natalie Reinelt

  Truffles: 9

  The Rainbow Collection by Nathan Azinger

  Truffles: Interlude

  A Song of Plexis by Janet Elizabeth Chase

  Truffles: 10

  Cinnamon Sticks by B. Morris Allen

  Truffles: 11

  The Locksmith’s Dilemma by Rhondi Salsitz

  Truffles: Interlude

  A Traitor’s Heart by Karina Sumner-Smith

  Truffles: Interlude

  The Restaurant Trade by Chris Butler

  Truffles: 12

  The End of Days by Tanya Huff

  Truffles: 13

  Good With Numbers by Heather LaVonne Jensen

  Truffles: Interlude

  Truffles: 14

  Truffles: 15

  Truffles: Interlude

  Truffles: 16

  Truffles: Interlude

  Truffles: 17

  Truffles: Interlude

  Truffles: 18

  Truffles: Interlude

  The Materials at Hand by Jessica McAdams

  Truffles: 19

  The Writers of Tales from Plexis

  The Editor and Artist

  Welcome to Plexis!

  PLEXIS, THE GIANT asteroid refinery turned shopping mall, was one of my happiest creations as a writer. I did it because an editor—not my beloved Sheila Gilbert of DAW Books—read my first book, A Thousand Words for Stranger, and felt there were too many planet stops.

  Okay.

  I took out one (Ettler’s Planet, so you know, too), then had a problem. A time and space problem. Worthy of a Time Lord, in fact. I’d used Ettler’s as a crucial meeting place. How was I to get Sira, Morgan, and Huido together at the same time without a planet? Well, there being only me to fix it, I envisioned their meeting point as traveling, too. It’s space, after all. Everything’s moving. Why not?

  Plexis was born.

  Bonus? Writing about a shopping mall in space was hilarious. I stuffed Plexis with everything from grand displays of the most exquisite art to fake boob-by-species salesbeings and whatever I could think of to fit between. With each new mention in the Trade Pact, Plexis grew and grew—still a great wa
y to get around conundrums of hither and yon—but also taking on a life of its own.

  As I concluded the Clan Chronicles series, the only place I wasn’t ready to leave? Plexis Supermarket. There were stories still to tell here. Backstory. New things. What about—

  All at once I realized those stories didn’t have to be mine. With Sheila’s consent, DAW’s expertise, and sage advice from those who’ve done shared worlds such as the amazing Ed Greenwood (Hi, Ed!), I officially opened the air locks and invited in anyone who’d care to write a tale from Plexis. Or do the cover art. (Why, yes, that fabulous cover is by the talented Roger H. Czerneda, who also named the Silver Fox. Now you know that, too!) Erin Czerneda, expert in all things Clan, was my first reader, sounding board, and strong right everything throughout (And, yes, Captain Usuki Erin of the Wayfarer. Now you know!)

  Readers, fans, friends. Your response was and is a sincere compliment to the characters, the setting, and your own wonderful creativity. Thank you—all of you—from the bottom of my heart.

  Parked your starship? Got your airtag?

  Welcome to a Plexis you haven’t seen before!

  Julie E. Czerneda

  How to Read This Book

  by Julie E. Czerneda

  THIS ANTHOLOGY IS unusual in that its twenty-three stories compose a single, blended narrative. My novella, “A Hold Full of Truffles,” weaves through and around, leading from one story to the next, drawing together the wonderful ideas, great backstories, and new characters of my amazing fellow authors.

  In other words, Tales from Plexis is meant to be read like a novel, from start to end. While you may be tempted to rush to your favorite author and gobble their story first, I highly encourage you to trust me, come along for the ride, and take in the whole tapestry.

  “A Hold Full of Truffles” takes place between Ties of Power and To Trade the Stars. Sira and Jason have brought the Silver Fox to the famous supermarket with cargo for the Claws & Jaws: Complete Interspecies Cuisine. It should have been simple. Routine.

  But this is Plexis.

  A Hold Full of Truffles

  1

  by Julie E. Czerneda

  “CONFIRMED, PLEXIS APPROACH. Silver Fox, Karolus registry, inbound on your directions.” My oh-so-proper tone was an accomplishment, given our current state. Letting go of the com button, I settled back into that still-new, still-wondrous distraction of tangled limbs and warm torsos, the pilot seat of the Fox adjusting with a familiar aggrieved whine, my hair slipping, delirious, around my captain’s neck. Where were we—

  A slightly desperate mumble.

  I snuggled in tighter, deepening my senses to include the beat of his heart, as wild as mine. Oh, yes, here—

  Witchling, with a dose of regret, even as Jason Morgan lifted me up and away, setting me gently on the deck. He shoved a hand through his hair and gave me a look. Fond exasperation, that was. “We’re on final to a space station, chit.”

  I grinned, unrepentant. It wasn’t as if my Human couldn’t dock with Plexis in his sleep. “It’s routine.” Another still-new treasure.

  “Only if we don’t crash.” An arm around me, a quick, affectionate squeeze, then my Chosen was at the control panel, all business.

  I took up my perch on the copilot’s couch. If I slid back, the couch would curl to accommodate my stature, but I liked to sit where I could watch his nimble fingers working the console. Oh, the ship could—and did—fly herself.

  Just not, in Morgan’s estimation, into something as complex as a parking spot. Especially here, on the most famous space station of all: Plexis Supermarket. Its lurid sign—“If You Want It, It’s Here”—could only be seen from space, but Raj Plexis’ gamble, turning a failed asteroid refinery into a traveling shopping complex, had succeeded beyond all expectations. We’d be one of tens of hundreds of ships on the move, inbound or out, while the station remained in real space. Morgan kept a wary eye on the proximity sensors, it being too late, he’d informed me, once alarms sounded.

  I put my arms back in my coveralls, shrugged the garment on, and fastened the front. My hair twitched in disagreement, presumably because Morgan’s coveralls remained around his waist, the control room lights limning the muscles working under the skin of bare shoulders and back.

  Routine. A home. New to me as love was to us both. We’d come a long way since our first visit to Plexis.

  Something cold arrived with the memory. I pushed it back.

  “What is it?” Morgan didn’t look around, but he’d felt my discomfort. Chosen could, being Joined through the M’hir, that permanent link between minds and, in our case, hearts.

  “Nothing.” I tightened my innermost shields, enough to keep my foolishness to myself. “Are we there yet?”

  A preoccupied grunt was my answer, the aging ship claiming his attention. I leaned back, hands around one knee, to wait. There’d be checks to run once the Fox was clamped to the station. As Hindmost, several were my responsibility, so I recited the list to myself, determined to impress—or, more honestly, not to miss anything crucial. Unlike a planetary landing, on worlds suited to our form of life where we could open ports and breathe what arrived, here we’d have to pay for any air we “shared” with Plexis. Along with anything else, so for ships like ours, hookups were the minimum permitted by station regs.

  Possible before the Fox had sprung a few—I called them “leaks,” which made my Human wince—peculiarities. We’d have to accept the full spread of links this docking, at least until our parts were delivered and installed.

  A home needing parts was also routine, if an adjustment for someone of my heritage. After all, the Clan didn’t work with tech, they employed—or influenced—Humans to do it for them. In that, I supposed I was something new myself. My kind would get used to it.

  After this trip, with this cargo? I smiled to myself. We’d be able to afford the parts on Morgan’s lengthy list. Enough to keep us flying.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Say again, Plexis?” The edge to my Human’s voice would have penetrated a Carasian’s shell.

  Not so the being on the com. “You can make payment now, Captain Morgan—shurrrrr—” The bland voice was nasal, not in itself indicative of nonhumanoid; the faint whistled pause was. “—or before you unload.”

  It—a F’Feego, according to Morgan, and “it” was appropriate, only the neuter caste dealing with aliens—had identified itself as Officer Esaliz E’Teiso, authorized representative of the Plexis Department of Consumables Duties and Tariffs, a seedy bit of bureaucracy of which I’d been blissfully unaware until we’d parked the Silver Fox.

  They’d noticed the truffles.

  We’d a hold full of the black earthy-smelling lumps, fresh from the jungles of Pocular. Merle truffles, to be exact: a rare and utterly delicious—according to others—delicacy. Morgan had helped dig these with his own hands, while I, as our custom, stayed behind in Ancoma, the Poculan shipcity, to look after ship tasks suited to being Hindmost. Our third such cargo for Huido Maarmatoo’kk—more and more species now enamored of his recipe for the things—and the first promising to turn a significant profit for us all.

  I’d a sick feeling Plexis had noticed that, too.

  “What payment? Our cargo’s a delivery for a Plexis restaurant,” Morgan retorted. Something’s not right, he sent with a tinge of frustration. Plexis takes its cut off the end product—portions served. “There’s some mistake, Officer E’Teiso. I’d like to speak to your superior.”

  “I—shurrr—am in charge of what is designated an import under our regulations. Truffles fall within a new category:—shurrr—Items Imported For Local Consumption. As such, you owe—”

  At the outrageous amount, I covered my mouth with both hands to stifle words I’d learned in the not-nice part of shipcities.

  “The sum includes the missed fees for the previous two cargoes
—shurrr—no late penalty added,” the F’Feego finished magnanimously. “Your ship will—shurrr—remain attached to Plexis pending settlement.”

  A threat even I, late-to-space, understood.

  If we paid, now and doubtless for any future truffles, Huido’s venture was over before it really started, any and all profit going to Plexis.

  If we didn’t, we could lose the ship, an outcome only too likely given Huido, in a fit of optimism, had sunk everything solvent into our cargo. We’d nothing of our own. As the expression went, the Silver Fox flew on promises. If the Claws & Jaws couldn’t pay us, we couldn’t pay for those essential new-to-us parts.

  Foreclosure by Plexis. Grounded by failing engines, followed by foreclosure by Plexis. I didn’t see much difference.

  Morgan replied, his tone mild, “Thank you for this information, Officer. We’ll be in touch.” His finger found the com button and pressed. Lingered. “Interesting.”

  I’d other words for it, but swallowed them when he walked to a plain portion of wall. Putting fingertips together, my Human concentrated.

  A hidden console flipped out: controls for equipment that should have been removed when the former patrol ship was decommissioned. Morgan worked them in silence for a moment, then stepped back, watching until the console returned to its hiding place. His eyes found mine and there was nothing mild in their expression. “I’ve enabled secured-in-hostile-territory mode. No one can enter the Fox or tamper with her exterior without—unfortunate—consequences.”

  From the now-frantic flash of the com light, Plexis noticed that, too. Oh, good.

  More fines.

  “We could just ’port the truffles to the Claws & Jaws,” I suggested. Within my Power, certainly, and likely, with Morgan’s own growing Talent, his as well. “No one would know.”

  A wry grin. “We’re attached to the station, chit. An unusual shift in the ship’s mass will set off every alarm they have.” Morgan rolled his shoulders, then nodded. “First things first. We tell Huido. In person.”