by Aleks Canard
‘I trust I’ll be seeing you soon, Trix.’
‘One way or another.’
‘I almost forgot. Duchess Vega has left you a gift.’
‘I’m not sure I want any more gifts from her.’
‘Nonsense. You’ll like this one.’
Dahos walked over to a neatly stacked pile of crates. He perused them like a child in a library before picking one that looked just like all the others. He handed it to Trix.
‘That will be all, machina. A pleasure to see you again. Hopefully the circumstances will be more favourable next time.’
‘Talk to your boss about that. And you might want to send someone to clean up the VIP lounge. One of your tables is broken.’
Trix ascended the Fox’s loading ramp. Altayr followed, glad to be leaving the cesspit that was Dark’s Hide.
Valentine shook Dahos by the hand. Greased the zirean’s palm with orit notes.
While nearly all currencies were totally digital, orit notes were made from plastic. Each one was printed with a single use, scannable code. You could either use the notes as they were, or scan them with a comms gauntlet, which deposited the money directly into your account. Once that happened, the notes became worthless.
‘Exceptional service as always, Dahos.’
‘Bright stars and clear skies.’
Valentine had created his own reply to the traditional zirean farewell. ‘May you find someone with whom to enjoy yours.’
He stepped onto the Fox. It took off into space. Dahos was left alone in the hangar once more. He relished its quiet, and his solitude. Dark’s Hide was a Thieves’ Utopia. A bastion for marauders, voluptuaries, and anyone else with scrupulous morals. Dahos Mardulen wondered how much longer it could possibly last. With Nadira in command, Dark’s Hide had entered a devilish renaissance.
Nadira Vega was working on a plethora of ways to ensure her haphazard duchy of pleasure lasted longer than the Bastion itself.
And now, so was Beatrix Westwood.
5
Valentine requested Trix fly to an uninhabited area of the Dying Star Nexus.
Trix flew the Fox for ten light seconds, emerging from hyperspace in a non-descript part of the system.
Trix: ‘What’re we doing?’
Valentine: ‘Way I see it, you pulled me away from several hours of fun. Which means you owe me that much.’
‘I got you out of there so you wouldn’t die, dickhead.’
A ship emerged from hyperspace near Trix. It was a luxury liner. Elysial make. An average person would’ve said it had no weapons. Trix could see concealed panels all over the hull. The ship was red and white. Meteor Brigade colours.
Valentine didn’t like to fly much. He usually didn’t trust himself behind a ship’s yokes when he was pissed. Although, he was comfortable starting a fight. Go figure.
‘Trix, I know you almost better than I know brands of whiskey by what the bottom of the bottle looks like. You’re going to tell me what Nadira said to piss you off. Then I’ll say I’m coming with you. You’ll argue. I’ll argue. In the end, you’ll be stuck with me, just like old times. And since that’s going to happen, I don’t want to be left without my effects.’
Valentine unzipped his jacket all the way. A dual leather holster was strapped over Valentine’s chest. A plasma SMG was on his right side. No ballistic shells. High rate of fire. Choker to reduce recoil. Littered with exhaust vents and heat sinks.
His left side boasted a .50 Cosmic Eagle, semi-automatic handgun, tungsten edition. Valentine had decorated it to have sandalwood panelling on the grip. Heartbreaker was artfully carved into the barrel that had faded, red paint to make it look perpetually bloodstained. Trix was envious of Valentine’s pistol. Its calibre was .06 larger than her Magnum Opus. However, hers could also shoot plasma, split in two, and had a hair trigger, allowing for much faster firing rate.
Still, there was something about gigantic pistols that made Trix’s heart flutter like most women reacted to flowers.
‘You always packing those?’ Trix said.
‘Having a little backup never hurts when you have a mouth as big as mine.’
‘I wouldn’t call a fifty calibre pistol and a Plasma Storm SMG a little.’
‘Not when your other company is holding a bloody tree,’ Valentine said, gesturing to Altayr. His cigarillo danced on the edge of his lip. ‘We get it. You’ve got wood.’
‘We’re capable of handling what Nadira’s asked us by ourselves,’ Altayr said. Not even Kit was this obnoxious. Yvach though, well, he was about the same.
‘What else could you possibly need?’ Trix said.
‘When you engage in as many nocturnal activities as I do, you don’t want your battle-armour getting stuck over your head in the throes of passion. So I only wear it if I’m looking for trouble. Or when I’m with you. Sif, darling, I know you’re here. How are you, gorgeous?’
‘Still immune to your manufactured, uninspired, oft repeated, flattery,’ Sif said, appearing on the living room table.
‘Don’t ever change,’ Valentine winked. He’d already forgotten about the threesome that could’ve been. Now there was a two orit erotica novella waiting to be written. His heart hadn’t really been in it anyway. ‘Might you dock with my ship, oh maiden of flaxen locks and golden skin?’
‘The galaxy’s greatest mystery isn’t what happened to the Uldarians, it’s how you manage to woo anyone other than your own reflection.’
‘If only I knew, then my success rate would surely be higher.’
Sif began docking with Valentine’s ship. The author didn’t allow himself many extravagances. For instance, he didn’t own any mansions. Just apartments all over the place, though he usually decided to stay in hotels. His ship, which pretty much served as a mobile home, was his only big expense. The maintenance was a pain in the ass. That was why Valentine didn’t like to own much. Upkeep was exhausting.
‘So, what does Nadira want?’
‘For us to break into a secret vault, owned by the Conclave, and retrieve an Uldarian artefact that has the power to create wormholes. Then all we have to do is journey to Zilvia and find its pair.’
‘And you’re okay with this, wizzy? Seems to me like breaking into a Conclave vault could result in your termination.’
‘I’m a sorcerer, not a wizard.’
‘And according to the galaxy’s finest literary scholars, I write novels akin to fast food. It’s not about the titles others give you. Though a few favourable ones never hurt.’
‘My loyalty lies to friends first, even if I do serve the Conclave.’
‘Truth is revealed when bullets fly, wizzy.’
Valentine extinguished a cigarillo on his jacket sleeve. Flicked it towards Trix’s kitchen sink. He heard the Fox dock with his ship, the Red Queen.
Valentine opened the airlock door. A Latina woman with dark hair in a bob was standing on the opposite side. She was wearing sleek red flight armour.
‘Hola, Serena,’ Valentine said, giving the woman a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks for bringing the ship around.’
‘De nada,’ she smiled.
‘You remember Trix, don’t you?’
‘Of course. Nice to see you again, machina.’
‘Greetings, Serena. Likewise. This ruffian isn’t giving you too much trouble?’
‘Just enough so that it doesn’t exceed my pay bracket.’ Serena turned to Altayr. She was taken aback by his handsomeness, though her voice gave no hint at her underlying admiration. ‘My name’s Serena Alura.’
‘Altayr Van Eldric. A pleasure.’
‘Serena is my quartermaster, bodyguard, life advisor, ideal reader, and oldest friend. Damn right she’s a pleasure.’
‘I didn’t know which armour you wanted, so I left it on the ship.’
‘I don’t rightly know what I’m after either. Trix, you know Zilvia better than anyone, come and help me decide.’
‘You’re going to Zilvia?’
Trix sighed. Vale
ntine couldn’t keep his mouth shut if it were sewn, welded, encased in concrete, then muzzled for good measure.
‘We’re picking up a package for Nadira Vega,’ said Trix
‘I thought you were only going to Nightshade for fun?’ Serena said.
‘Trix is doing Nadira’s bidding as a favour, Altayr is joining her as a favour, and so am I.’
‘A favour I didn’t ask for,’ Trix said.
‘And that’s how good of a friend I am,’ said Valentine. ‘You don’t even owe me anything.’
‘I let you write about a heroine so thinly veiled as me you may as well dispense with the name “Jinx.”’
‘As I always say, what’s mine is yours. Just because your morals are skewed to not accept handouts is not my problem.’
‘Your only problems can be solved by pouring another glass.’
‘Then I wouldn’t call them problems. Only minor inconveniences. Come on, Trix, come have a look at the ship. I’ve had it redecorated since the last time.’
‘And no doubt, the stripper pole in the lounge still remains.’
‘Hey, that pole really ties the room together,’ Valentine said, pointing with his cigarillo for emphasis.
‘I’ll stay here. I’ve seen you naked more times than I’d like.’
‘You said that after the first time.’
‘And it was no less true.’
‘Hmm, he does love nudity,’ Serena said.
‘How’d you deal with it?’ said Trix.
‘I invested in a paintball gun. A few warning shots near his good leg and he puts his clothes back on.’
‘If I can’t be free on my own ship, where can I be free?’
‘In one of your many apartments,’ Serena rolled her eyes. ‘With the lights off, and no mirrors. So you don’t scare yourself.’
Valentine and Serena headed through the Fox and into the Red Queen’s airlock, leaving Trix and Altayr alone.
‘How does she stand him?’ Altayr said. ‘How do you stand him?’
‘Serena was the 19th Orbital Ranger division’s pilot. She and Valentine have been friends since basic training. Does he ruffle your poncho?’ Trix said, putting the case Dahos had given her on the table. She cracked it open.
‘His arrogance is thick enough to choke on.’
‘Don’t say that around Valentine.’
‘Will it bruise his ego?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then why not say it?’
‘He’ll be able to make no less than ten penis jokes off that.’
‘At ninety-nine years old you think he’d have a more refined sense of humour.’
‘And at 300 you think you’d learn not to care.’
Trix looked inside the crate. Webs of strapping were inside.
If Nadira’s given me bondage gear as some kind of joke… Trix thought. She took out the webbing. It was nothing so vulgar. The webbing was made to strap over existing armour, and attach to the cold fusion cell which powered the shields. Trix grinned. It was a flight suit. While not as flash as Dai of Thyria’s, which was actually built into his exo-armour’s lining, this webbing created solid shielding that served as a possum suit. Useful for controlled gliding over long distances. However, unlike Trix’s previous flight-suit, it would be utterly useless in space. She threw the webbing onto the couch and kept looking through the box.
‘If you’re angry about breaking into the Conclave’s vault, I’ll drop you off wherever you want to go. I never asked you to sign up for this.’
‘You’ll never get in without me.’
‘But if we’re caught you’ll lose your position.’
‘The vault isn’t patrolled by guards. No mage would want that job. It’s hardly glamorous.’
‘Then what is it patrolled by?’
‘I’ve never been, and I only have an idea where it is.’
‘How can you not know?’
‘As one of the youngest members, I’m not trusted with everything. To learn of the vault’s location, you must find an object worthy of being banned by the Conclave’s popular vote. Any mage who finds an artefact is expected to examine it thoroughly, thus understanding its function. That’s why whoever finds the object is the one to secure it in the vault, for they know the best way to store it.’
Trix had emptied the crate. Four thrusters were all that remained inside. Two fit along her forearms. The others fit on the sides of her ankles. They were light, so they wouldn’t encumber her movements. There was no way they’d reach even transonic speeds. Still, better than nothing.
‘Magic,’ Altayr continued, ‘is like chemistry. A spell is comprised of matter. Some scientific scanners can actually detect it. They’re currently too complex to be implemented in ships, and it’ll likely be decades until they are usable in comms gauntlets. Though advancements are made all the time.’
‘I’m aware of the laws of matter conservation.’
‘It never hurts to reapply basic theory since you have always postponed any magical training that I’ve offered. And it’s worth restating simply because it’s a common misconception that spells create matter. Not true. They only alter its form.’
‘Does this have a point? I’m not a fan of theory lessons for the sake of you enjoying your own genius.’
‘The vault contains a lot of complex, magical spells. Over time, they’ve dissipated, much like how gas fills its container’s volume. This creates a volatile space where one spell may react with another. Hence my earlier comparison to chemistry. Every hundred years, or thereabouts, members of the Conclave journey to the vault to perform spell maintenance so it doesn’t collapse on itself. You need me there.’
‘Valentine will be disappointed if there’s nothing to shoot.’
‘Mages may not patrol the vault, but elementals do.’
‘Fantastic.’
Not to be confused with familiars, which were often cats, Elementals served as powerful mages’ bodyguards. They were pure forms of magic’s four main elements: fire, earth, air, and water. While comprised of magic, they were vulnerable to swords, pistols, and other technological weaponry. However, Elementals’ main weaknesses were their opposite elements. A fire elemental was weak against water, for example, and so on.
‘Do you have a general idea about the vault’s location?’
‘Yes.’
‘Spying on your fellow Conclave members?’
‘Not one of us trusts the other. The Conclave is a fractured chain. Some internal alliances are strong, but each link is rusty. The Conclave can’t support the law any more than people’s crumbling faith in the Consortium.’
‘Sounds like your involvement on Drion wouldn’t be wise. War among the Conclave could end badly for us all, even though there are only nine of you.’
‘Now you see my predicament,’ Altayr said, leaning on his staff.
Not all mages were part of the Conclave. Even those who were approached for positions would often refuse. It was a secretive club run by those who coveted influence more than anything else. And once you were in, only death released you.
Altayr had accepted a position because he knew that while ignorance was bliss, knowledge was power. Better to hold at least some of the cards than to not even see the deck.
‘I’ll solve it for you,’ Trix said, carrying her new equipment into the armoury. ‘You’re not coming inside. You’ll help Valentine and I find the entrance, then we’ll enter alone. Serena too if she decides to come, and she might. Meteor Brigade was a crack unit. Nothing much ever deterred them.’
‘I’m sure that’s what Valentine said. He strikes me as one who only knows how to speak through hyperbolic exaggeration.’
‘Valentine hardly ever speaks about the war. The stories I’ve heard have been from Serena.’
‘Are they together?’
‘No. Never have been. But Valentine would undoubtedly give his life for her. He would for any of his friends.’
‘Nice to see he isn’t entirely without some sense of
decency.’
‘His past haunts him like mine does. The difference is that I was trained from birth to fight. Valentine joined the army because he had poetic visions of glory.’
‘He can’t have fared too badly if he became part of a specialised unit.’
‘But the army doesn’t teach you philosophy. How to cope with knowing you might die at any moment. That death is inevitable. Even if a bullet doesn’t kill you, time will.’
‘It’s the only enemy that’s undefeated.’
‘Knowing how to cope with the fear of death is so you don’t fall apart when you see your friends die.’
‘And Valentine saw his die?’
Trix nodded. ‘He and Serena are Meteor Brigade’s last surviving members. She saved his life.’
Altayr was about to reply when he heard footsteps in the cargo bay.
Valentine returned, still wearing his jacket. Underneath was a combat vest with an exo-armour neck covering. His scalp and jawline were covered by part of his helmet. His face was still in full view. His visor would activate at the push of a button. Valentine didn’t wear leg armour seeing as his bionic limbs were top of the line.
‘Alright, let’s break into some vaults.’
‘I suppose you’re coming too, Serena?’ Trix said.
‘I’ll be around if you need the ship. My place always was in the sky.’
‘My guardian angel,’ Valentine said.
‘It’s been close to eighty years and you’re still on that,’ Serena laughed. ‘You would’ve done the same for me.’
‘I’ll see you later. Why don’t you take some paid leave, on me?’
‘I might just take you up on that. Adios, Trix.’
‘Anything I should know about domesticating him?’
‘He survives on a mostly liquid diet. Hide the whiskey. Want me to give you my paintball gun?’
‘I’m sure I’ll find something to throw at him.’
‘The heavier the object the better. It was nice meeting you, sorcerer.’
‘Likewise. Enjoy your leave.’
‘Until I’m called in for an extraction because this idiot can’t keep his mouth shut.’
‘Don’t worry yourself about that, besides, you could use a break.’
