Fleet of the Mage

by Taki Drake

  Where there had been raw and unfinished looking hills and mountains, constructed emplacements now stood. Polished and protected, armored and defended, the spaceport now was designed for battle. The road extended out from the spaceport in pristine splendor.

  Each side of the road contained a peculiar curve of honeycombed structures. This curb was short and intricately constructed. Forming an array that would provide visibility no matter what lighting was available, it was impervious to damage from the weight of traffic. There was something subtly different about the air now inside the spaceport. None of the observers could tell what it was, but the change in feeling, the alteration in odor was significant.

  Ruth turned to Pawlik and extended a trembling hand, her eyes wide and unseeing, her mouth trembling in exhaustion. He caught her up and clutched her next to his chest just as she lost the ability to stand on her own. Her weariness was draining, even her toes ached. The dread that she had felt with the flash of foreknowledge had curdled the blood in her veins, and she had reacted passionately and emotionally. It had taken a toll that pushed her into exhaustion and close to collapse. Yanking his gloves off, Pawlik quickly put both of his bare hands touching Ruth’s skin.

  The anchor and mage bond snapped into effect with an almost audible connection. Pawlik felt power pull into them from the surrounding harmonics of the planet of his birth, transmuted to absorbable energy that then was pushed into his mage. He could see the color in her cheeks returning, the deep-seated exhaustion around her eyes dissipating. Her sagging exhaustion changed into a strong hug, both thanking him for the recovery and expressing affection. They stood there entwined for a few moments before Ruth took a deep breath and straightened her spine to face what she had done.

  They were surrounded by staring eyes and gaped mouths. Marines, workmen, bodyguards. No one said a word. Pawlik could feel Ruth trembling slightly as she tried to pull herself together. Staying within his supportive arms, she rotated in place and looked out at the spaceport.

  There was very little resemblance to the dusty crater that they had entered just a short four hours ago. Where there had been stone, sand, and rock, there was now paved roads and pathways, reinforced landing pads and terraced gardens. Green lawns and subtle lighting provided a finished look to the facility. There were over 200 landing pads laid out in the huge facility. Each one had its own support structure, storage, and control facilities. Corresponding warehouses and offices on the other side of the field show the capability of expanding shipper, forwarder and merchant services that far exceeded the main spaceport on Arkken.

  A variety of administrative buildings provided infrastructure for the management of the spaceport and organizational representation such as the Spacers’ Union. An extensive network of secondary structure provided room for residences, Marine barracks, and other facilities. There was even a small training ground.

  Lights on the pathways and intersections were on, showing the presence of electrical energy. One of the most amazing things that was present in the spaceport, at least to Ruth, were the lights and the vehicles that were sitting in the parking spaces next to the buildings.

  Nowhere in the plan that they had exhaustively worked out had there been an intent to create vehicles. Despite that plan, Ruth’s subconscious had produced what looked like working vehicles for both land and air travel. She felt stunned. How on earth could she have created things that she did know how to make and of which she didn’t understand the internal structure? It simply made no cognitive or logical sense.

  Her amazement was reflected in the faces of the people around her. The distillation of that came when Techla ran up to her grandma, flung her short little child arms around Ruth’s waist, and asked, “Grandma, what did you DO?”

  Chapter 8 – Spaceship Shopping

  Planet – Borachland Hot Barrens

  It was nine in the morning, and the sun sparkled on a new turn-off from the main road to Borachland Castle. It was an open roadway, with a pristine surface. The road looked brand new, showing no signs of track or wear. The drivers and passengers of the vehicles traveling the road this morning knew how impossible it was to find such an on marred surface. Especially one that there had been no sign of before now.

  A construction of this type would take months, if not years, to complete. Obviously, Borachland had been planning this for quite a while since otherwise, the road would have not have been there. Quiet conversations were held in many of those vehicles as the smooth ride, and the gentle whisper of their passage was appreciated by the passengers who noticed such things.

  The vehicles carrying the potential ship buyers over the road produced the first signs of usage on that unmarred surface, bearing witness to its inaugural use. The buyers’ conversations paid it little attention. The mercantile group heads and the master traders were too busy gossiping and conjecturing.

  “I heard he has a new wife, some sort of Outland woman. She supposed to be really skilled at something that I don’t believe in.”

  “You mean like magic? The chances of us having a mage after millennia is not really high.”

  “I don’t care as long as we get a ship out of the deal.”

  “At that, it should not be too hard. You know these nobles don’t understand how to negotiate or bargain.”

  “Either way, we should be able to get it for a steal.”

  The conversation in another, less opulent vehicle was totally different.

  “I don’t know what you boys have gotten yourself into, but the clan elders have sent me to make sure that you don’t sell yourself into slavery.”

  “But uncle, we are adults, and it’s our right to make our own deal!”

  “As long as you are part of our crew, you will abide by the ruling of the clan elders. Is that understood?”

  “Once we have our own ship, we are not under your rule.”

  “We will see about that!”

  Yet another vehicle was mostly silent, its occupants contending with private thoughts and silence. Occasionally one would mutter to another a simple question or short reply. The passengers in this vehicle stayed alone in their thoughts, separated by differing objectives, but united in their hopes for success.

  The group of vehicles approached a large curve that led into an old crater. That was the location that they had been told would hold the new spaceport. They didn’t see how there could possibly be a spaceport in Borachland. Port facilities took 5 to 10 years and huge amounts of resources to build. Although technically the Lord of Borachland had the authority to build whatever he wanted on his land, no single house on Arkken had ever controlled the resources to construct something as expensive as a spaceport.

  As the lead vehicle completed its transit of the road curve that ended where the crater opened up to its floor, there was a screech of brakes, and the expensive transport cavalcade came to an abrupt halt. There was a flurry of crashing and smashing sounds as some of the vehicles were forced to go off the road to avoid a collision. Cursing and swearing filled each of the vehicle’s interiors as people were thrown about willy-nilly, papers mixed and drinks up-ended.

  The passengers climbed out of the vehicles, ready to demand satisfaction and enact retribution. Their ire was stifled, their planned diatribes silenced. They were struck dumb by the sight that met their eyes. There was a spaceport there in the Hot Barrens of Borachland.

  Many observers rubbed their eyes and blinked, convinced that they saw some sort of mirage. How else could they explain something that could not be real? Their minds fought against their senses because how could there be a spaceport when there had been no warning of its construction? How could it have come into existence without the signs of development and normal construction cycle commercial transactions? For people that were used to reading the footprints of business developments and tactics as part of their ongoing strategy for survival on the planet Arkken, the spaceport’s existence was an immense shock.

  Chastened and thoughtful, the men and women reentered
their vehicles. Watching carefully through the windows, they noted the comprehensive terraforming and the uniqueness of the unknown emplacements and watchtowers that encircled the spaceport. Nowhere in any of their experience had something like this been seen. What had been regarded as an opportunity for a deal against unknowing and unqualified opposition, had become something that was far more challenging. Something dangerous. A new factor had entered the game, and they didn’t know the capabilities or the power of that player. It was time to put their game faces on.

  <<<>>>

  The spacers and merchants had traveled the remaining 2 km to the spaceport in observant silence. Plastered against the windows of their vehicles, they had watched carefully, noting each of the strategic components of the spaceport. Many noted in approval the protective nature of some of the watchtowers and the effective control of the gateways into the spaceport. The merchants had particularly noticed the well-designed warehouse space and factor offices. Calculations were running through their minds and whispered consultations with their coworkers filled the vehicles with a subtle background noise.

  The game had certainly changed. There were opportunities here, game-changing, fortune-making, opportunities to gain advantage and to solidify markets. There might even be a possibility of obtaining some of the new materials and weapons that were so obviously demonstrated in the new spaceport. What had started out as a romp, an opportunity for a cheap victory had become deadly serious. Plans were changed, attitudes adjusted, and the merchants were ready. They watch the competition out of the corners of their eyes, layering their strategies, solidifying their tactics.

  <<<>>>

  After passing through a well-attended control point, carefully noted by the spacers and the more security-conscious merchants in the vehicles, they were directed to a large building on the western side of the spaceport. A subtle sign identified it as the Port Master’s office.

  As the visitors were ushered in, many of them noted the polished offices and the personnel manning the desks inside the building. The inclusive nature of the facility and its well-appointed interior made more than one merchant reevaluate their planned position. This is not a slapdash facility. The professionalism, obvious high technology levels, and comprehensive planning that went into this facility was something that spoke in different ways to each of the merchants.

  This meeting had become more than an investigation into a possible purchase of a spaceship. This port was better equipped and better designed than the main spaceport on the planet. It had updated facilities, strategic protections, and showed that some master architect was guiding the entire thing.

  None of these people had gotten to where they were by being slow to recognize advantages and disadvantages. All of them knew that whoever ended up with their facilities and their offices at this spaceport would have a significant advantage for increased traffic and rapid shipments. Their watchful eyes and surreptitious picture-taking blinded them to how carefully they were all being observed by the spaceport staff.

  The Lord of Borachland, Pawlik, and several other people stood at the front of a well-appointed meeting room as the groups of buyers entered. The imposing noble commanded most of their attention. All of the attendees were conscious of both his record as a fighter and his stature as a noble. Most of the merchants focused primarily on him, considering him the main factor in any of their negotiations. Only a few paid any attention to the other members of his party.

  The three other people standing with Lord Pawlik were still notable in their own way. One was known to many of the attendees either by reputation or personally as Pawlik’s seneschal, Harril. His reputation for fair dealing and ironclad honesty was well known in the trading circles although his ability to negotiate was derided by many in private.

  The two other people standing with the nobleman were female. One was a beautiful woman with deep auburn hair, lightly streaked with sable. She appeared to be a variant of the race that populated Borachland and had a watchful but pleasant expression on her face. The other woman was a quadruped with wary and watchful eyes. She was taking notes on an electronic tablet, and her closed expression did not invite any idle interaction.

  Pawlik started the meeting with a general set of announcements. “Welcome, gentlemen and ladies to our new facility and to our new spaceport. This is the inaugural meeting for outsiders, and we are pleased to host you here.

  The ships that will be landing shortly are the first of what we expect to be a brisk traffic through this facility. Each of those ships is available for possible purchase in this first round of our consolidation and placement efforts. The individual craft will be placed in a location that makes it easy for you to inspect them.

  All inspections will be conducted in concert with an escort. No wandering from the escorted party will be permitted. If someone wishes to see other aspects of the field or port, please let your escort know what you wish to see. As long as it does not violate any of our security protocols, your request will be accommodated.”

  A man in the dress of a successful merchant and wearing a Master Trader ring on his left hand raised his arm to signal a question. Pawlik nodded in acknowledgment and asked, “Good day to you, Master Trader Quinn. What is your question?”

  “Lord Pawlik, may we ask questions about some of the other facilities here at the spaceport?”

  “Of course, but I would prefer that you reserve those questions for the meal that we have planned for you after the inspection tours are done.”

  “That would be perfectly fine, my Lord.”

  With a nod toward the seneschal, Pawlik stepped back as the old man began to assign escorts to each of the parties. Bending his head toward Ruth’s ear, Pawlik murmured, “Some faces here that I didn’t expect to see.”

  Equally quietly, Ruth murmured back, “We’re going to have significant trouble with some of these, my dear.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter 9 – Chumming the Water

  Planet – Borachland Hot Barrens

  There were 31 groups of interested buyers. The seneschal had assigned each of them a tour guide, and Jenna had assigned them each a security escort. Gently guiding their group toward the doorways, the escorts neatly got all of the personnel out of the building and congregated in the area in front of the Portmaster’s offices.

  Multiple vehicles waited there. These vehicles had a strange appearance, totally different than anything that had been seen on Arkken before. Ruth thought that they look like motorized hayrack’s from her youth. It was a nice day, sunny with temperate aspects, so the open transport made perfect sense.

  A totally inappropriate vision of hay bales and pumpkins pulled a sad small of remembrance to her face and a pang to her heart. Ever sensitive to her moods, Pawlik took her right hand in his left and gave it a gentle squeeze. Ruth’s sad smile transformed into something warmer and happier at his affectionate gesture. Pleased that he had lightened her mood, Pawlik raised her hand to his face and kissed it. Both of them were oblivious to the watching eyes that widened at such an unusual public display of affection.

  The seneschal announced that the groups were free to either walk with their escort or ride vehicles to the space field which was a thousand meters or so away. To no one’s surprise, the groups unanimously chose to walk. Walking would give them an opportunity to inspect the facility unobtrusively. Many of them wanted to get a more detailed examination of what this port was going to look like. As intriguing as the vehicle design was, the facilities were more important to them.

  <<<>>>

  The traders were impressed. They had never seen such polished and professional construction. There is no break or irregularity in the walkways, and the roads were pristine. Buildings almost glittered as if they hadn’t existed before that day, with clean windows and immaculate steps.

  The whispering among the groups grew in intensity as they approached the actual space field itself. It stretched for an immense distance with what appeared to be specialized tram or
railcars that went out in a pattern like the radiating arms of a circular creature. Additional vehicles of unusual design were scattered around the periphery of the space field. The entire area had an expectant feel to it as if it were waiting for time to begin.

  There were no ships on the field. Not a single, solitary spaceship was waiting for the merchants. The level of muttering increased and some of the traders were looking perturbed. Before anyone could actually ask a question, however, the reflected glint of eight descending spacecraft could be seen overhead. The spacecraft came rapidly toward the landing field, causing many of the inspection parties to stir nervously. Only the fact that Pawlik and his party were calm and unmoving held the visitors in place.

  In what could only have been a carefully choreographed set of moves, eight spaceships came toward the space field at high speed. About 1000 feet off the ground, each of them rotated on its axis, presenting its landing structure toward the ground.

  A thick shaft of light sprang up from the landing space, startling the watchers into hasty backward movement. Looking embarrassed, most of them moved back to their original position and watched in amazement while the light column enveloped the landing spacecraft. At that point, all apparent engine activity ceased, and the ships were gently lowered to the ground, touching down in the exact center of their assigned berth.

  In the sudden silence, the excited discussions of the visitors created a complex auditory tapestry. The Borchland party could hear snatches of comments, many of them expressing amazement and confusion.

  “How can they have landed those ships? We should have been blown off the field!”

  “What sort of material is this?” “I have no idea, but it’s worth a fortune!”