The Captain (The Last Horizon, #1)

by Will Wight

“I’m going to save the galaxy, but I’ll probably just die trying. I usually do.”

By the way, spells aren’t conscious. I just like to imagine they are. Maybe I’ve been working alone too long.

“To survive in this galaxy, you need a wand in one hand and a gun in the other.”

Using that to clear out the native wildlife would be like using a starship’s cannon to start a campfire. But as the saying goes: “Someone has the biggest gun on the planet. It might as well be you.”

Eurias, the Life-Giver, was perhaps the most powerful magical focus in the galaxy. It was a length of smooth, pale wood as tall as I was, with a blue crystal orb on the top that seemed to contain an entire world’s oceans. In reality, it contained the spirit of an ocean world. Magically speaking, that’s roughly the same thing.

I felt power, and there was no mystical sense involved. The Last Horizon radiated authority, like it was the king of all starships. The first, greatest ship ever built.

Horizon’s face distorted. She flickered, like a hologram under interference, and for the briefest fraction of a second she wore a crazed grin so broad it stretched the boundaries of her mouth. Her eyes were wide, the seven-pointed stars at their center feverishly bright, and they shone with the mania of a berserker eager to plunge into battle.

“If this will put you more at ease, any…eagerness for violence…you may have sensed in my bearing was not directed to you. If anything, it is toward everyone else.” She drifted along as though she hadn’t said anything strange, but I missed a step. For a second, I considered turning around. The big red warning light wasn’t flashing anymore, but that was at least a small orange one. But in the end, I continued walking up the ramp. I wasn’t willing to ignore a huge warning for the sake of a new ship, but I could ignore a tiny one. It was a very nice ship.

“If it would help improve your performance, I could pretend to be sentient.” Her face took on an unconvincing expression of doubt. “What is my place in this universe? What is my meaning? My impending mortality lends a sense of value to my rapidly dwindling life.”