by David Estes
Verity remembered the planetary history she’d been forced to memorize in school. “The Third Godstar War was fought in this very corner of the galaxy, back before there was a Godstar Galaxy, much less an Archimedes. They say each attack by one of the Celestials would’ve been the equivalent of a nuclear explosion, and when one of them fell…” She clasped her hands together and then exploded them outwards. “Entire solar systems were created from the shrapnel, a godstar from each Celestial that died.”
“Seven godstars,” Minnow murmured, sounding reverent. “Providing life for billions.”
“Trillions, you mean. Didn’t you hear the results of the last census? 1.2 trillion across seven systems and thirty-seven planets, thirty-eight if you count the Lost Colonies.”
“And to think I don’t even really like people that much, no matter what race they are.”
“Not even Minots?”
Minnow snorted. “Especially not them. Bunch of rockheads if you ask me.”
“Like your ex-girlfriend?”
“I won’t say a bad word about her. She had a lot to give, we just didn’t click in enough ways. Like a couple of gears each missing a tooth or two. Make sense?”
“I guess.” In truth, it didn’t make sense. Not to Vee. Her gears had fit perfectly with Dacre’s, not even requiring oil or upkeep or anything.
Until Miranda. Godstars-damned Miranda-frigging-Petros.
Vee felt the aura running through her blood begin to coalesce, and she glanced at her hands, which were starting to brighten to red. She took a deep breath, then another. This wasn’t the time or the place. Plus, taking down Miranda a hundred times—a thousand—wouldn’t change anything. She unclenched her fists and watched the fiery color fade before turning her attention back to the world outside the ship.
They passed a bright red moon on the right, so small its gravitational pull was approaching zero from this distance. On the left side of the planet was another moon, much larger than the first, surrounded by a paper-thin ring comprised of water, ice, and miniscule rock particles.
“Pentos and Vintos,” Vee said, seeing Minnow’s eyes dart from one moon to the other. “Twice a year they nearly collide, coming within ten-thousand miles of each other. Some call it the kiss of the Arch godlings.”
“Some people? Not you?”
“They’re just hunks of rock,” Vee said with a shrug.
“What a romantic way to put it.”
Vee smirked. Minnow knew she wasn’t into flowers and love letters. Thankfully, Dacre had never tried any of that sappy stuff with her. He’d always known what she wanted and when she wanted it. “Anyway, if they do collide, it will cause a cataclysmic explosion of rock and iron ore, spraying meteorites onto Archimedes. Those who live on islands that are fortunate enough to not sustain a direct hit will be drowned by the resulting tsunamis.”
“That’ll be some kiss,” Minnow said. “Like my ex-wife. Now that big ol’ lady could lay one on a guy.”
Vee’s head snapped toward his. “Your ex-wife? You never told me you were married.” At first, she felt a pang of annoyance, but then remembered she had her own secrets.
“You never asked.” He said it nonchalantly, still staring through the viewpoint.
They’d been working closely together for the last three-plus years and not once had Vee thought to ask about whether Minnow had any serious relationship skeletons in his closet. She’d only assumed the ex-girlfriend was some fling, not something serious. Instead she’d blabbed on and on about her own problems. “I’m a selfish Black Hole,” she said. “Sorry for not asking.”
“I was kidding. Well, half. Anyway, there’s not much to talk about. Got married too young. It was all sex and fun for a while, until we ran out of Vectors. The real galaxy caught up to us in a hurry. We tried to cling to the good times for a while, but eventually got tired of fighting.”
“Where is she now?”
Minnow shrugged. “Here. There. Who knows? She could never stay in one place for long.”
“Sounds like her ex-husband,” Vee quipped.
“And her ex-husband’s best friend,” Minnow retorted.
She couldn’t argue with that.
The warning light flashed, reminding them to take their jump seats and strap in, which they did. To Vee’s surprise, Minnow took her hand in his. “It might be the aura talking, but I’m glad this all happened. That old job sucked rockets.”
Vee hiccupped a laugh. “It did, didn’t it?”
“Jin can bust the balls of some other security peons.”
“She wasn’t that bad.”
“True. On her good days.”
Holding hands, they closed their eyes as the ship began to shake as it entered Archimedes’ atmosphere. Vee felt the aura running through her, and had the urge to use it, to trace a glyph and create a fireball the size of Pentos.
Minnow barked out a shout and wrenched his hand from her grasp. “Godstars, Vee, think happy thoughts, would you?” he said, sucking on his fingers, which looked like they’d gone for a dip in a pool of scalding hot water.
She stared at her hand, which was encased in flames. She wouldn’t burn so long as her blood contained liquid aura. “I’m—I’m sorry. I wasn’t even trying to…” The excuse fell off her lips as she noticed Miranda staring at her. She too was strapped into a jump seat as the ship shook around them, the viewpoint obscured by the fire of their reentry into atmosphere.
In the corner of Vee’s eye, she noticed her MAG/EXP points shooting up by another thousand. Small moon rocks, except for the fact that she hadn’t really done anything to earn them.
PART II
FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE EVENT
Chapter 11
Planet of misfits
Vee felt amped up as she descended the gangway, partly because she was back home and partly because of the dose of pure aura Miranda had shot into her bloodstream an hour before landing. She’d be due for another hit in twelve hours, and then she’d be able to start drinking the stuff in small quantities again.
Thankfully, she hadn’t lost control of her magic again, although Minnow’s burnt hand—now wrapped in gauze soaked in healing ointment—was a stark reminder to be cautious.
Captain Tucker stopped at the end of the gangway. He would hold down the ship until they returned, although she wished he would be accompanying them and not Miranda. Vee had been surprised when Miranda had released him before their descent. She’d never known the severe homewrecker to be merciful. Although Vee was glad she hadn’t cost the man his freedom, something about the entire situation felt…off…but she couldn’t figure out why.
Without thinking, Vee pressed a button on her wristcom to hail one of the hovertaxis zipping past the familiar launch field.
“Don’t,” Miranda said, grabbing her arm.
A lightning bolt of anger shot through her. “Get your hand off me.”
Miranda frowned, but complied. “I was only trying to stop you from wasting your Vectors,” the warrior mage said. “I’ve already arranged transportation.” Right on cue, a train of black hoverlimos with tinted windows turned from the main thoroughfare, lowering to a stop in front of the main exit from the field, where crowds of fellow travelers gathered to stare.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit…excessive?” Vee said.
“Looks good to me,” Minnow said. “Not sure I could squeeze into one of those other tiny things.”
“You’re an asset of the Alliance now,” Miranda said. “We’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe and happy.”
Yeah, and a prisoner, Vee thought. Then again, she’d signed the contract, so it’s not like stealing a starship and making a jump into hyperspace was an option. The Alliance would hunt her to the fringes of the galaxy—perhaps even further. “Lead the way,” she said, shaking her head at Minnow’s giant goofy grin. Despite his size, he looked like a little boy on Jubilation morning as he hurried toward the waiting hoverlimos.
Near the launch field’s fence
line, dozens of hover cameras snapped photos at a spectacle Vee had seen on numerous occasions during her childhood. Magic McGee was a grizzled ex-warrior mage who’d fought and been decorated in the First Caspian War more than two decades earlier, when the Machinist’s armored corps known as the Steel Mech had been defeated in the Caspian Sea on the planet Casponos in the Godstar III system. Supposedly he’d emerged from the penultimate battle unscathed but had begun to show signs of post-traumatic stress disorder a few years later, after fighting in the two wars for Casponos. Now McGee was homeless, and more famous than ever, his name mentioned in multiple interstellar guidevids as a must-see for any visit to Archimedes.
Vee watched as he cast a spell directly into an old tin can, giving it a kick toward the crowd with one of his dirty bare feet. There was a collective gasp from the audience, which backpedaled, several tripping over their own feet. The can exploded in midair, vanishing in a spray of bright colors that rained down like fireworks.
“This is the mage you were talking about before?” Miranda said.
Vee nodded absently. The crowd oohed and clapped. Many of them aimed their Vector transmitters in his direction and offered up donations, but McGee cared nothing for wealth and didn’t have a receiver to collect them anyway.
How does he do that? Vee wondered, not for the first time. Clearly, McGee had no liquid aura—he couldn’t afford a mil of the stuff, much less enough to cast the minor spell he’d just performed. Vee remembered how she’d seemed to create magical energy from nothingness back on the ship and shivered.
I’m not like McGee, she thought. My body might be under attack by the addiction, but I still have my mind. Don’t I?
They were almost clear of the airfield when the memory struck her. Her mother, the last time she’d seen her, when she’d departed on her final mission. Vee’s breath caught in her throat, not because of the pain of the image of her mother, every detail of which was carved in her mind for eternity—her short hair the same color as her daughter’s, dark, almost purple, that fearless grin playing across her lips as she turned for one final wave and then—
By the godstars… Her mother had stopped and frowned, crossing the launch field to where McGee had been “performing.” She’d pressed a button on her armored suit and ejected one of her many medals of valor. This one was tinged with red, forged from liquid tritonium mixed with her own blood—blood she’d spilled when she’d saved the lives of three of her own unit during a melee with the Steel Mech during the Second Caspian War, an ongoing struggle that had left millions dead already. Little did Vee know at the time: her mother was soon to be one of them.
Her mother had given that medal to Magic McGee that day. For just a moment, the man had ceased his incessant movement, gripping the medallion in his fingers and staring at it so intently Vee had found herself leaning forward and doing the same.
Her mother had nodded at him, whispered a few words Vee had been unable to hear, and then turned and strode away. Vee’s mother had never seen what McGee had done afterwards, but Vee had. He’d thrown the medal high in the air, the edges glistening as it caught shards of sunlight…and then it had vanished in a wink.
Vee, only eight years old at the time, had been so angry. She’d shouted at the horrid man, full of righteous indignation that he would waste something that was a part of her mother, something she’d earned by almost giving her own life.
She’d hated the man ever since, which she knew was foolish. His mind was not his own, after all.
“You poor, crazy bastard,” she muttered now.
“What was that?” Minnow asked.
“Nothing.”
The other soldiers from Miranda’s ship formed a barrier around them as they strode through the crowd, hordes of rubberneckers trying to catch a glimpse of what kinds of people could afford such an escort. The Archchancellor perhaps? Or maybe a visiting holo-star? Wrong, Vee thought. A failed Class 3 mage with an addiction to aura. Wanna take a holovid with me and stream it onto the galactosphere? Riiiight.
The soldiers ushered Vee and Minnow into one of the vehicles, the limo in the middle, before shutting the doors and making for their own cars. Only Miranda joined them in the main cabin of the middle hoverlimo.
The interior was lavish, complete with soft leather seats big enough to swim in, multiple holoscreens, foot and hand warmers, custom temperature settings for each area, and a service bot.
There was something else too.
Vee had never been in a hoverlimo before, but she was pretty sure a rack of mag-rifles didn’t come as a standard feature.
“Nice digs,” she said.
The service bot approached them before Miranda could respond. “May I interest you in a beverage?” the bot said. Its plastique face was spotless, its eyes clear and lifelike except for the unnatural orange retinas. Oh, and the fact that there was nothing below its torso except a long mechanical arm that curved around and connected to a runner on the ceiling so it could move about the cabin unimpeded.
“A shot of pure,” Minnow said, slumping into a plush leather seat. “Make that a double.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the bot said. “I’m afraid you do not have authorization for this drink.”
“Well-trained,” Vee commented.
“Spared no expense,” Miranda said. “Three waters, with lemon.” While the bot scurried over to a small bar area, the hoverlimo lifted off, falling into line behind those in front of it.
“Destination?” an electronic voice said through a speaker mounted on the wall.
“Where to?” Miranda said. “This is your show.”
Vee hadn’t really thought about it. She knew she should go home first. She knew any good person would do just that. But she was a long way from good. She tasted bitter regret on the tip of her tongue but swallowed it away. “Bar Chameleos,” she said.
“A bar?” Miranda said. “Listen, we don’t really have time—”
“It’s where we’ll likely find the third member of my crew, all right? I’m not going to waste your time. I want to find Dacre as much as you do.” Vee felt the familiar surge of…something…something powerful, a mix of anticipation and hot rage, boil up inside her at the thought of seeing him again, but quickly tempered it, watching as her hands, which had started to glow red, cooled back to a normal shade of pink.
“What will you do when you find him?” Miranda asked.
“None of your—”
“Look, he betrayed us both. He’s the common denominator here, not me. I didn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do.”
Yeah, right. “How did he betray you, exactly? He was kicked out of the Academy, remember? You, a warrior mage in training, would really have stood at the side of a flunkie? I call bullshit.”
Miranda’s voice changed from cool and calm to venomous in an instant. “You don’t know anything, human wretch,” she spat.
Vee leaned back, surprised. Sure, she’d been purposely baiting her, but didn’t expect to break through her façade so quickly. And ‘human wretch’? What the Hole was that supposed to mean?
The tension in the conversation dissipated as the bot returned with their waters. Vee sipped hers, avoiding eye contact with both Minnow and Miranda as she stared out the window at a place full of too many memories, a plethora of emotions running the gamut of the person she was now. A person she hardly recognized sometimes.
The island they’d landed on was the largest on Archimedes, and the one she’d grown up on. Galileo was a bustling metropolis of star ports, shoebox-sized studio units, and amazing villas worth tens of millions of Vectors located beachfront. Hovercars whipped past on all sides, clinging to their lanes, which were marked by hoverbuoys.
Home was the opposite direction, toward the southernmost tip of the island, which was shaped like a bulbous amoeba. Instead, the hoverlimo careened toward the heart of the city, where a mixture of shopping, restaurants and watering holes were enough to satisfy all types and budgets.
“Destinat
ion reached,” the disjointed voice from the speaker said as the hoverlimo pulled to a stop and lowered itself to the ground.
“What in the galaxy is this place?” Miranda asked.
“Bar Chameleos,” Vee said dryly, gesturing to a bright red neon sign that was missing the first “a” and the second “e”. Vee was somewhat surprised any of the letters were still lit considering how rarely the proprietor, an old friend of her father’s, paid his bills on time.
“I can see that. The place is a dump.”
Vee couldn’t argue with that. The camo paint was peeling, though that didn’t stop it from changing color from time to time, giving the small structure a surreal feel if you stared at it for too long. One of the front windows was cracked—Vee could still remember the epic brawl that had led to the damage—held together by a long piece of space tape, the edges beginning to curl and brown.
But what would be most incredible to anyone unfamiliar with Chameleos’s, which was named after the owner’s home planet, was the crowd gathered at the front, a mob of races that would suffice as a mini-census of the Godstar Galaxy. There were Jopies, their willowy limbs and broad-padded fingers an aquamarine hue, and Blights, shadows seeming to waft off the crests of their uncovered scalps, Kleftors, standing a head taller than the rest of the crowd, and Dynastians, one of the oldest races in the explored portion of the universe. Plenty of humans milled about as well, craning their necks to try to catch the attention of one of the bouncers. Of course, there were no Jackals or Gremolins—even Bar Chameleos didn’t attract their ilk.
The crowd was controlled by two enormous Bronzians, their thick arms crossed over their broad chests. From time to time, one of them would nod in someone’s general direction and the throng would part to allow the lucky winner to pass by and enter the bar. If Vee didn’t know better, it would appear as if the bouncers were selecting at random.
“Why so much attention for this dive?” Miranda asked, but Vee ignored her, enjoying having the upper hand.
