by David Estes
“What did Dacre steal from the Alliance?” Vee asked, not looking at Miranda.
“Like I said, you don’t have the clear—”
Vee spun rapidly and grabbed Miranda’s metallic collar. “You want me to find Dacre? I need something to work with. And this particular crewmember won’t agree to this insane mission without knowing all the details. So tell me or we might as well give up now.”
Miranda chewed her lip, considering. “Fine. You’d find out eventually anyway. It’s an artifact. An amulet. Magical, of course. Infused eons ago.”
Vee cocked her head to the side. She should have known. Dacre loved magical lore. His eyes would always light up when he spoke of the history of magical artifacts. He knew the names and histories of hundreds of them, as well as their locations. He’d also talked about how the Alliance had possession of many of the rarest ones, including at least three of the Five prime artifacts. If the particular amulet of which Miranda spoke was infused with magic eons ago, that could only mean one thing. “This artifact…it is prime?”
Miranda nodded slowly.
“Which one?”
“It’s called Amplify.”
By the godstars…he did it. Dacre had joked about stealing a prime artifact from the Alliance on numerous occasions. But he was just being silly, or so she’d thought. Prime artifacts were rare and rarer. Though information on them was hazy at best, it was assumed that a mage could gain thousands of MAG/EXP points by using one. Some even believed they could earn hundreds of thousands of points, enough to level up Classes with a single spell. That was the main reason the Alliance collected them. Not to use them—although that wasn’t out of the question—but to ensure mages couldn’t get their hands on them. The Alliance wanted—no, needed—to control users of magic. That was the whole point of the MAG/EXP counters they’d created. It was a control system, ensuring that registered mages were unable to cast powerful spells before the Alliance had decreed them experienced enough to use them. The MAG/EXP couldn’t stop them, of course, but at least it gave them a mechanism within the law for sentencing and imprisoning those mages who refused to obey. If any untrained mage could level up by casting a few spells using artifacts… It will break the whole system, Vee thought.
The concentrated magical energy stored inside a prime artifact was also supposed to be highly volatile. Very powerful for spell casting, but with the potential to literally blow up in one’s face. Some said the Dynastians had created them, while others believed the Gremolins had. However, the majority thought the godstars themselves had left the Five to be found. Regardless, it was well known that the art of making such tools had been lost centuries ago, if it had ever existed in the first place.
To gain an entire Class with one spell… Vee thought, salivating at the notion.
But Dacre had never cared about leveling up the way she had. For him, it had been all about the journey, not the destination. He loved magic-craft more than anyone she’d ever met.
There were dozens of other questions she wanted to ask Miranda now, but she held them at bay.
Instead she pressed a button and the door opened upward. Dozens of heads turned in her direction as she stepped out, a crease opening in the throng almost by instinct. Anyone with the Vectors to cruise around in a hoverlimo must surely be important enough to move to the front of the line.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” Miranda said from behind her. “The tracker, remember?”
How could I forget? Vee thought wryly. Before processing the contract, Miranda had insisted the tracker be embedded in her skull. Not only would it transmit her location at all times to the Alliance, but it would send a jolt into her skull, incapacitating her, if she tried to remove it.
She said nothing, scanning the entrance to the bar.
The bouncers noticed her, frowning at first, but then breaking into broad smiles as they recognized her. One of them uncrossed his arms and motioned for her to come forward. Vee couldn’t help her own smile. There were plenty of reasons coming back to the Arch made her uncomfortable, but this wasn’t one of them.
“Follow me,” she said to Miranda and Minnow. Miranda protested, but Vee was already passing through the mob. More than once she heard someone whisper, “It’s that mage from the Miss Universe Pageant!” Oh godstars, is that forever who I will be now? She ignored her surroundings and soldiered on.
When she reached the beefy Bronzians, who had a few inches on even Minnow, the one on the left said, “Verity Toya. It’s been too long.” His voice was surprisingly high pitched, almost comedically so.
“Goff. It’s damn good to see you,” Vee said, embracing him. His hard skin was warm against her. She did the same with the other bouncer. “Rolf,” she said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Yeh, a sight that’ll make ’em even sorer,” the man replied with a wink. Though most people saw the two men as huge statuesque barricades, Vee saw them as friends. She’d known them most of her life—they’d been working for Terry as long as she’d been alive. “Head inside. Terry’s holdin’ court as usual.”
Vee nodded, calling back over her shoulder, “Big guy’s with me. Not the mage. Or the load of soldiers.”
She smiled as she entered the bar, Miranda’s protests erupting behind her.
She stopped just inside, scanning the joint, which hadn’t changed at all since her last visit, two years earlier. The actual bar, a hovering slab of stone, glowed green, then red, then yellow, a constantly changing miasma of fluorescence that mirrored the steady output of drinks from real, live mixers. The owner refused to upgrade to bots, which, Vee believed, was one of many reasons for his success. Bots could do a lot these days, but not everything. The drinks were served in a variety of forms, from fluted shots to steaming goblets. Each contained at least a small amount of liquid aura, but all were diluted to some degree. Even still, Vee could smell it, almost taste it on the tip of her tongue. Her mouth watered, and she felt a strong pull toward the bar to order the purest of pure that they had, to drown in the stuff. She took a step in that direction, but someone grabbed her arm and held her back.
She turned toward Minnow, fire in her eyes.
He released her, raising his hands over his head. “Cool off,” he said. “You already burned me once.”
Vee took a deep breath. Controlling her magic had never been so…difficult. “I’m sorry. And thanks. This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“I get it,” Minnow said. “I want to drink too. But we can’t. We have to be stronger than the pull. I’ll help you if you’ll help me.”
Vee almost laughed at that. Minnow was her rock. She doubted he needed her help. “Sounds like a plan.”
She scanned the walls, which changed colors like everything else in the bar. A wave of nostalgia hit her at the old posters of space rock bands she used to listen to, most of them signed and hanging next to photos of the rock stars posing next to Terry.
Speaking of whom… The owner himself was standing on a hoverplatform in the center of the space. Patrons passed him their colorful drinks and he breathed on them, the colors changing, flaring bright orange or deep blue, glowing white or darkening to shadow-black. The color of the man’s skin mimicked the drinks, drawing appreciative applause and murmurs from the crowd.
Vee rolled her eyes but smiled. He was the same old Terry, using a skill he was born with, that was as easy for him as breathing or walking, to make a few thousand Vectors a day. He, of course, lived in one of the mansions on the southern tip of the island, just like her father. They were next-door neighbors, in fact.
He was a Chameleot, a dwindling race that hailed from Godstar V, a system just shy of the edge of the Outer Reaches. Chameleots weren’t really travelers, and certainly not this far from home, which made the man an attraction. Hence the need to pay Goff and Rolf such healthy salaries for their services.
Speaking of which…the commotion out front was getting louder. Vee knew she didn’t have much time before things turned na
sty, as they usually did when Miranda Petros was involved. She whistled once, and the sound might’ve been lost amongst the noise and clamor, but Chameleots were also known to have spectacular hearing.
Terry’s long-snouted head turned in her direction, his eyes brightening to pink as he recognized her. “Show’s over,” he hollered, drawing a chorus of Awwws from his devoted customers. He vanished, and they gasped, heads turning to and fro to try to figure out what had happened to him.
Vee shook her head again, making her way toward a private alcove guarded by yet another Bronzian. When the big man saw her, he stepped aside to let her pass. This one, however, didn’t smile. Huff had never been her biggest fan. He saw her comings and goings as disloyal, and she couldn’t disagree. “Nice to see you,” she said robotically as she passed, but he didn’t respond.
To most, the plush space set with three couches surrounding a bronze table would appear empty. Not to Vee. She’d known Terry long enough to see through his tricks. While his customers had gawked at the empty space on the hoverplatform where he’d stood a moment earlier, she’d watched the air ripple as he’d leapt to the ceiling, his sticky fingers and toes suctioning to the surface as his body changed color instantly to blend in. While she’d walked toward the alcove, she’d seen him skitter overhead, dropping into the space a moment before she passed Huff. Now he was sitting on a red couch, part of his body colored the same, while the rest mimicked the look and color of the five or six pillows stuffed behind him while he lounged.
“Hullo, Terry,” she said.
“Heya, kid. What brings you to my little slice of paradise?”
Terry wasn’t usually one for small talk, so she cut right to the chase. “A job.”
“I already have one of them. A quite lucrative one.”
“You must get bored doing the same old bar tricks for the same old fools, day after day after day.”
From behind her, Minnow whispered, “Where is he?” as he squinted over her shoulder. It didn’t surprise Vee that her friend couldn’t yet spot the chameleon—it had taken her years herself. The key was to not look for him, but for the displacement of air.
“The couch,” she said.
“Who’s your friend?” Terry asked, sitting up, his color changing perfectly to keep him hidden from most eyes. His hand darted to the table, snatching a vine of grapes from a bowl. The grapes instantly changed color to match their surroundings, disappearing into thin air.
Minnow leaned forward and frowned.
“We worked together at that security company I told you about last time.”
“Worked?” Terry said, emphasizing the past tense. He was a keenly intelligent man—subtleties were rarely lost on him.
“I know you’ve seen the holo-news, Ter.”
“Of course I did. The entire galaxy did. I screamed, ‘I know her!’ when I saw you take out that last Jackal. Riveting stuff. Every holo-news company this side of Godstar III was looking to interview you. Too bad none of them could find you. Until now, that is.”
Finally, Terry appeared in true form, and the breath rushed out of Minnow. “Amazing,” he said.
Terry was much like any other Chameleot, with long, thin legs and arms and webbed feet and hands. His skin was a milky white—a blank canvas, he liked to call it—and his eyes wide and round, protruding from his scalp above a long snout that curled slightly up when he smiled. He wore a camouflage vest and pants. He kept both of his holstered blasters hidden from Minnow, though Vee could just make out the edges, if only because she knew to look for them. Vee could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him without his weapons.
“What’s the job?” he said. “And what does it have to do with me?”
“I’m recruiting,” Vee said. “You’re on my list.”
“You didn’t answer my first question.”
That was a tougher one. Vee knew she needed to frame it the right way to catch his attention. Terry had more money than he’d ever need in ten lifetimes. She would have to pander to another desire of his. Adventure. It was the whole reason he’d set off from Chameleos years ago, taking odd jobs well-suited to a man of his…skillset…until finally settling down on the Arch.
“A manhunt that will take us across the galaxy,” she said.
“Bounty hunting?” He yawned. “Pass.”
“The man stole a rare magical artifact,” she added, slowly building her case.
The small round ears on either side of his head perked up at that, though he pretended disinterest. “I haven’t heard anything about a museum heist,” he said. “Must not be that rare of an artifact.”
“That’s because it wasn’t stolen from a museum. The artifact is dangerous, so the Alliance was keeping it safe.”
“Not that safe,” he said, but despite his feigned boredom, she could sense his keen interest now.
“It’s a prime artifact.”
Terry yawned, but she could see his ears twitch again.
“The thief is believed to be the same man who cleaned out the Magical Reserve Bank of Archimedes,” she said casually.
“What?” he said, his color changing rapidly before returning to normal. “Color me interested.”
“Good. Because we have to find this guy. He’s working with the Jackals.”
“Wait. Are you saying the attack on Maxion is linked to these other thefts?”
Vee nodded, already gathering her thoughts on how to reply to his next question, which she’d already anticipated.
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I took a job.”
“For who?” There was ice in his voice now.
Terry was no friend to the Alliance, Vee knew. Several times they’d tried to collect additional taxes from him. In the end, they’d struck a deal, but the grudge was still there. He’d been one of the few people she knew who’d tried to talk her out of entering the Mage Academy. “For the Alliance. They want me to find the man working with the Jackals.”
Terry showed his teeth, which receded from the tip of his snout all the way to the back of his jaw. “I’m not working for the Alliance. Not for all the Vectors in the universe.”
“I know. I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to work with me.”
Terry scoffed. “Sounds like the same damn thing.”
“It’s not. Whatever the Jackals are planning with this man, it’s not good. With that much aura and a prime artifact to boot…” She left the rest of the sentence unfinished, hanging in the silence.
Terry stared at her, slowly shaking his head. “What sort of fool would crawl into bed with the Jackals? They’re dangerous as Hole.” He paused, licking his lips with a long pink tongue. “Wait a minute. Why you? Why did the Alliance hire you to find this man? Just because you saved a bunch of morons at some stupid pageant?”
“Because I know the man they suspect of stealing the artifact. It’s Dacre Avvalon.”
“Godstars save us all,” the Chameleot muttered, vanishing into thin air.
~~~
“You pull a stunt like that again and the deal’s off,” Miranda growled once they were back in the hoverlimo.
Vee fired a glare in her direction. “We have a contract. And anyway, I already told you, I pick my crew. If we had marched in there with an Alliance mage and a dozen soldiers, there’s no way Terry would’ve agreed to join the mission.”
“So he signed on?”
Dammit. “Not exactly, but—”
“No buts. We are out of time. Vehicle, head back to the launch—”
“No,” Vee interrupted, gritting her teeth. Her fingertips tingled as they heated up, but then cooled a moment later. She toppled from her seat, her entire body feeling empty, devoid of bones and muscle. I’m an empty husk, she thought. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open.
“She’s not due for another shot for at least three hours,” Vee heard Miranda say. The world began to drift.
“Well she needs one now,” Minnow said. She felt his big hand on he
r head, his fingers stroking her hair. “Hang on, Vee, you’re going to be just fine. Give it to me.” Everything was so fuzzy now, like a holoscreen on the fritz.
Something pinched her arm and then she felt a warm sensation, and then—
She sat bolt upright, her eyes flashing open. Everything was suddenly so clear, like rays of sunshine highlighting dewdrops on a rose petal. She could see the veins in Miranda’s eyes as the woman stared at her, a small vial of pure clamped between her fingers. She could see the individual tendons rippling beneath the skin of Minnow’s arms as he withdrew the syringe from her vein, his expression laced with concern.
Vee felt supercharged, like she could move mountains, drain the oceans, fly across the galaxy and smash a fiery hole through Dacre’s chest with only a thought.
“Vee,” Minnow said. Then again: “Vee.”
“I’m okay,” she said, forcing herself to breathe deeply. “It’s the aura. It’s…strong.”
“How much did you give her?” Miranda asked, an accusation in her tone.
“Less than a mil,” Minnow said.
“Doesn’t make sense. She should be coming down. Look at her pupils—they’re fully dilated.”
“I said I’m okay,” Vee repeated, unclenching her fists when she realized her fingernails were biting into her palms. Spots of blood appeared where they’d broken the skin. “And I know we’re short on time, but I need to make another stop.”
Miranda sighed. “Fine. But make it quick.”
“Vehicle, head to the southernmost tip of the island.”
“Which residence?”
“Bungalow One.”
Vee settled back into her cushy seat, desperately trying to remain calm, to not give any outward indication that she was in distress. She didn’t need Minnow worrying or Miranda questioning her decision to hire her for this job. Contract or no, the Alliance could find a way to wriggle out of the deal if they really wanted to. Hole, they practically owned the Godstar Galaxy these days.
The short flight south was smooth, the air clear of turbulence as the sun shone upon the large island. The further south they traveled, the narrower the stretch of land became, until they could see the ocean on both sides. The waters around the island were red this time of year, blooms of phosphorescent algae spawning and floating to the surface, collecting the local godstar’s rays. Vee’s stomach and chest grew tighter and tighter with each minute, like an enormous snake was winding itself around her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.
