by David Estes
“Vee?” Minnow said at one point.
She waved him off, unable to speak. This time, it wasn’t the potency of the liquid aura affecting her. No, this was the ghost of her own poor decisions and selfishness.
She managed to swallow the knot in her throat just as the hoverlimo turned onto a short drive that ended in a broad cul-de-sac. Palm trees were favored on the generous front lawns, each of which were manicured to perfection, their landscaper bots kept busy for much of the year. Vee spotted Terry’s place, a white stucco façade over a hidden tritonium structure that could withstand a small nuclear explosion.
Her own house—well, her father’s house—was constructed of stone harvested from Bronzea, carved in Trago, and imported to the Arch. Its gabled roof was made of marble sheets hatted with fired and glazed clay shingles formed into miniature waves. Several of the windows were stained glass, and when the sun hit them in the morning it was like waking up to pure beauty. The beachside villa was her father’s gift to himself after his third new and previously undiscovered finding, one that landed him on the cover of Space Scientists Weekly, a popular holo-periodical with subscribers numbering well into the billions.
The hoverlimo slowed to a stop and then gently set itself down.
Vee didn’t move.
“Umm,” Miranda said, tapping her holowatch.
“Give me a sec.”
“Is it the aura?” Minnow asked. “Did I give you too much?”
There was no easy way to explain the last five years of history. Yes, Minnow had been a part of some of it, but not this part. In the time she spent away from her job, this was her reality.
Miranda huffed in frustration and jammed the heel of her hand on a button, sending the door skyward. A light breeze wafted in, warm and humid.
Vee breathed in, letting the air out just as the house’s front door lifted open and a tiny form emerged, charging out on legs that were so much stronger and steadier than the last time she’d seen them. The small pigtailed figure bounded through the landscaping and onto the small grass hill, falling once, righting herself, and continuing until she reached the vehicle just as Vee stepped out, crouching to take the girl into her arms.
By the godstars, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
And I’m the ugliest.
“Vee, you’re home!” the little girl said, all of three years, six months, and eighteen days old. Not that Vee was counting. Not that she knew she’d been away from her for one year, ten months and four days.
“Vee?” Minnow said as she held her little girl. “Who is this?”
My daughter, she thought, words she could never say. Tears pricked at her eyes, her vision blurring. My daughter with Dacre Avvalon, the very man we are hunting.
“We’re sisters, silly,” the little girl said, pulling herself free of Vee’s arms. The embrace was too short by a million lightyears. “I’m Ava.” She stuck out a hand the way her grandfather had taught her to, fearless even in the presence of an enormous Minot man who could barely squeeze his way from the hoverlimo.
“Minnow,” he said with a broad smile, his bear-like hand swallowing hers whole. The tiny girl who now looked so grown up clamped her fist around one of his meaty fingers and dragged him forward. “Me and Daddy made the yummiest blood orange juice. Wanna try it?”
Ava had only known a few words the last time Vee had seen her. Now she was speaking in full sentences. Those were months she would never get back, experiences lost to her the moment she walked away. And yet…she knew she would make those same mistakes again, destined to relive the same cycle over and over again, watching as her daughter grew up in frozen flashes.
Vee surreptitiously brushed the tears from her cheeks and nodded toward Minnow, who said, “I would love to.”
Miranda peered out from the vehicle, a frown creasing her forehead, her eyes boring into Vee. She’s a lot of things, but not blind. She knows.
Vee turned away. “Stay here. You’re not welcome in my home,” she said.
“Don’t be long,” Miranda said, just as several other vehicles flew up the drive. Soldiers poured out, surrounding the property.
~~~
“What is going on, Verity?”
Only her father could speak her name in a way that made her feel so happy and so sad at the same time. The happiness was in the familiarity in his voice, a man who had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. The sadness was in the twinge of disappointment that was always there. Disappointment in her. In her choices. In how far she’d fallen. He wore it like a second skin.
Ava was busily running about, dragging Minnow with her, showing him her toys. She had plenty of them, many of them bought by the Vectors Vee sent home each month. As if they make up for anything, she thought, knowing full well her father could provide for Ava without her assistance. She reached out and ran her finger along the edge of a holoscreen projecting an image of her mother. She wore baggy neothene pants and an unprinted shirt to go along with an unreadable expression. Vee knew her mother had her demons, the memories of combat that she could never seem to shake, even when she was on leave from the Corps and home with her family.
Why doesn’t Mother hear me when I talk sometimes? It was a question six-year-old Vee had asked her father.
Her father had scooped her up and placed her on his knee. She’s seen many things. Sometimes those things reappear when she least expects it.
Oh. Well, maybe I can give her new memories to take with her.
“The innocence of children,” she thought, watching her mother’s image fade, only to be replaced by a new one. Her mother still had that faraway look as she’d turned back for a final wave to Vee and her father, but there was something else in her eyes—the steely glint of determination. Vee wondered if it was how she had looked as the Jackals descended on the pageant two days ago.
Two days. Is that really all it’s been. It felt like a lifetime.
And then Ava was by her side. “Mother was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Vee’s daughter said, her eyes full of wonder as she stared up at the holo-image, which had changed once more. It was an image Vee had memorized long ago, a shot taken before she was born—her parents on their wedding day. Her father was in his fanciest neosuit, silver bands shimmering on his cuffs and along the creases of his finely pressed pants. Her mother was in dress uniform, two medallions pinned to her left breast and winking in the sunlight. They were on the beach on Archimedes and they were so happy.
“Yes,” Vee said. “She was.”
“Why did the stars take her?” Ava asked. The earnestness in her tone was breathtaking, but Vee didn’t allow herself the luxury of tears. She owed her daughter some level of protection from the harsh galaxy they lived in.
“She was a hero. She saved many lives by giving her own.” And she’s your grandmother, not mother. And she would’ve been so proud of you. And she should’ve had the chance to meet you. All these things, both the spoken and unspoken, were true. Harmony Toya had been killed by a Mech from the fabricated planet of Arturo, in Godstar VI. The tech-loving Arturians had refused to join the Alliance when it was formed twenty-six years ago, starting a war that continued to flare up every so often. The Arturians weren’t dissimilar to humans, except they were known to hate magic-users—none of their kind were genetically disposed to processing aura—something that had only steeled Harmony’s resolve to defeat them, something Vee hadn’t understood until she was much older. Her mother’s death had been a major factor in her decision to join the Academy. Not that any of that mattered anymore. Not unless she could locate her daughter’s father and claim her reward.
Her own selfishness was a wildfire burning through her.
“Why are you here?” her father asked. “Alliance soldiers have created a perimeter around my home.” His use of the word my wasn’t lost on Vee. She truly felt like a stranger in the place that had once been hers too.
She turned toward him. They’d hugged briefly as she entere
d the house, but it had been a fleeting, robotic gesture that was more out of habit than affection. She’d avoided his probing gaze ever since, but now she faced him head on, his sharp green eyes probing in that scientist way of his. His beard was flecked with gray, she noticed, matching the salt and pepper sprinkled across his thick hair. It suits him, she thought. “You saw me on the holonews,” she said. It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t wait for an answer. “The Jackal dart caused me to OD on aura. Minnow too. He’s lucky to be alive. The Alliance is helping us…work things out.”
“In exchange for what?” Her father knew the way things worked. Nothing was free, certainly not when it came to the Alliance. Her mother had taught them both that.
“They want me to find someone.”
“Who?”
“The ice mage who robbed the Archimedes Reserve two days ago.”
“Who?” he repeated. He hated being managed. He was a man of science. Questions and answers were his religion.
“Dacre Avvalon.”
There was no surprise in his expression, as if he expected the answer before she’d spoken it. “I see.”
“Uncle Dacre?” Ava said, and Vee closed her eyes. It had been her decision—one her father had vehemently disagreed with—to expose her daughter to her biological father. Not in person, of course; as far as Vee knew, Dacre had no idea of Ava’s existence. But they did show her holoimages, always referring to him as ‘Uncle Dacre.’
“Yes, I need to find your uncle,” Vee said. “He’s made some mistakes. He needs to make up for them.”
“Like when I broke Daddy’s priceless Bronzian vase and he made me glue it back together?”
Vee hadn’t heard that story yet. She’d missed so much already. And she was only going to miss more. Then stay, you fool. Why did you run away from your responsibility? Why did you run away from the most beautiful thing you’ve ever been a part of? Because your heart was broken by a bastard named Dacre Avvalon? Because you hate being tied down? Why, dammit!? Why!?
If she could answer those questions, maybe she would be able to stay. Maybe she would be able to tell her daughter the truth and do the right thing and grow up.
I will, she thought. Just as soon as I find Dacre. It was an easy lie to tell herself. After one excuse, there was always another.
“Something like that,” her father said, answering Ava’s question when she didn’t. “But your sister didn’t come back just to tell us that. Are you here for Terry?”
“Yes. He said no.”
Her father nodded. “I’m not surprised. He likes his life here.” Vee tried to detect whether it was a loaded statement, but no, it was just a fact.
“That’s not the only reason I’m here,” she said. “I need your help with a problem. Ava, why don’t you show Minnow your pets.”
The Minot caught her gaze and she could see him reading her mind the way he always did on the job. He nodded. “Yes, show me, little one,” he said. Ava’s eyes lit up and she pulled him toward the stairs to the second floor.
Vee remembered something: “Hold on,” she said. Ava turned, her face scrunching up into a this-better-be-important face. “I have something for you.”
“Like a gift?” There was a hint of anticipation in her tone.
“You think I would forget?” The last time she was here, Vee asked her daughter what she wanted before she left. Now, she felt her father’s eyes on her face, and could already hear his familiar words—you spoil her—but she ignored it. This was her chance to do something motherly, to fulfill her beautiful daughter’s wish.
Ava rushed to her and Vee extracted a small box from her pocket. She’d found the creature on Infinity, one of Plinth’s many moons. She and Minnow had been with the rest of the crew, working a holo-concert featuring the galaxy’s most famous holo-rock group. She had to admit, the show had been spectacular—one of the better events she’d been a part of. They’d had to break up several fights, but overall it was an uneventful job, much to Minnow’s chagrin. He’d been hoping to have the opportunity to fire a rocket or two from his shoulder launcher.
In any case, after the show they’d bounced along the broad, half-gravity streets looking for a place to waste the Vectors they’d earned. That’s when she’d spotted the tiny, worm-like creature. It was glowing slightly, making its way across the street, a dangerous maneuver that would likely get it squashed by oblivious feet.
Vee had shrieked with excitement as she’d scooped up the little creature. It was exactly what Ava had requested the last time she’d left. Vee had kept it in darkness until now, which had made the worm slip into hibernation, not requiring food or water while it slept.
Now, the girl peered at it with wonder in her eyes. “That’s a plant worm?” she asked, sounding doubtful. She’d likely already seen thousands of pictures and videos on the galactosphere, but things were always different in person.
“Yep. If you give it a patch of dirt, and plenty of water and sunlight, it’ll one day grow into the most famous flower in the galaxy.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” Ava promised, closing the lid on the tiny box. She held it tightly in one hand and resumed dragging Minnow upstairs with the other.
When she was alone with her father, Vee said, “The Alliance is willing to do more than help me with my aura problem,” she said. “They’ll reinstate me into the Academy if I can apprehend Dacre.”
“That’s great,” her father said, though his voice was flat.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I want you to take responsibility for your actions.” There was no anger in his tone, which almost made the comment sting more. Her father was a logical man. Logic was truth, which usually hurt more than anger-filled insults.
“I’m trying.”
“Are you?”
“You think Ava would be better off with me?”
“Not at present. But perhaps someday.” My little star-born mage. Those words felt like they were spoken from another world, not from the memories that had once been hers.
“Someday…” That word felt hollow, a dying, unreachable star.
“Now let’s talk about your other problem. What is it?”
The disappointment was gone from his tone, replaced by his scientist voice, the one that was eager for knowledge, to solve the mysteries of the universe.
“It’s my MAG/EXP counter,” she said. “Ever since I was hit by the dart, it’s been going haywire.”
“Haywire? Speak in facts, not meaningless garble.” It wasn’t intended as a reprimand, she knew, but it still felt like one.
“I’ve been gaining points. A lot of them.”
“You used your magic in a real-life situation. That’s the way the counters are meant to work. They reward you more for true use of magic than when you’re just practicing. Otherwise all of the mages in the Academy would be Class 5s in less than a year.”
She understood that, but there was the other thing… “I created my own aura,” she blurted out.
Her father’s brow creased, accentuating the additional wrinkles that had formed since the last time she’d visited. “Created? I don’t understand. You mean you processed the energy.”
Vee shook her head. She could hardly make sense of it in her own head. “No, it wasn’t like that. I know how that feels. This was different. I was drained. Completely. There was no aura in me. I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Miran—the warrior mage from the Alliance was baiting me, trying to get me to sign the contract to help them in exchange for a hit of pure. I needed it, Dad. I was weak.” She paused, the familiar word sounding…off…to her ears. She realized she hadn’t called him that in a long time.
“You’ve never been weak, Verity. That’s your mother’s influence.”
She felt dragonflies in her stomach. Coming from her father, it was no small compliment. “Well, this time I was. But then…”
“You created aura from nothing.”
“Yes, like Magic McGee.”
“I—I don’t know. I was angry. Pissed off at the way I was being used.”
“Who is this Alliance mage? Not a stranger to you, I presume.”
Godstars, her father was so perceptive it was uncanny. “She was a classmate from the Academy. The woman Dacre…you know…”
Her father’s jaw tightened. “And she’s here? Outside?”
Vee nodded slowly. “But don’t do anything, okay? This is my chance to undo my mistakes.” Vee knew she’d overreacted back in the Academy on that day she’d opened the door to Dacre’s bunkroom to find them on the bed together. Too close—far too close. That overreaction had cost her a dream.
“I just want to talk to her.”
“Dad, no. Please. Let me do this my way.”
To her surprise, her father smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him do that in a while. “Stubborn too. You get that from me.” He took her hand, running his finger over her thumb for a long second. He dropped it and the moment vanished. “Something is happening to you, that much is clear. The overdose of aura started a chain reaction of some kind. There’s probably nothing wrong with your MAG/EXP counter. How close are you to Class 4?”
“Lightyears,” she said with a sigh. “But closer than I was a few days ago.”
He nodded. “Whatever happens, be careful. I know we have our differences, but you must come back to us. If not for me, for your little girl.”
It was an impossible promise to make, but Vee wouldn’t begrudge her father this one thing, even if they both knew it was a lie. “I will.”
