by Stefon Mears
Donal wondered whether that should make him feel better, or worse.
Chapter Three
Ship’s Mage Machado held a leisurely pace along the golden ceramic corridors of the Horizon Cusp, as much to irritate his companion as to conserve his energy. Jitters, as he called Ship’s Engineer Jang in the privacy of his own thoughts, would likely have jogged all the way from their new research lab to the bubble, even though she would have saved less than a minute.
But then, she lacked the authoritative weight of Machado’s features and stature. Jang’s nervous energy kept her short body positively tiny, like a squirrel that thinks it has five minutes to live. Further, she wore her engineering overalls everywhere, clothing more appropriate for an alchemist than a magician, and not at all like Machado’s own tailored shirt and slacks. She smelled like an alchemist too, like someone had blended a dozen random flavors of herbal tea, then left the mixture on to boil too long.
All of these things added to the chance of her being mistaken for an exuberant child instead of the competent professional she was.
“We should check the formulae again,” said Machado, “before we bother Goldberg with this.”
“You’re just mad that you didn’t think of it first.”
“If it had been a good idea, I would have thought of it first.”
Jang spun on her heels, eyes narrowed and fingers twitching as though clutching air. Then she seemed to remember that, for all her experience and space certifications, she was only an Initiate, while Machado was a Magister.
Machado stretched his lips in a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded, certain that he had read her right. But a true magician knows when to show magnanimity.
“All right, there is some merit to your notion of tying into the central systems an emergency switch that could hit an entire room with a pacify effect—”
“Ha!”
“But it needs more development before it’s worth talking about. Right now you haven’t allowed for a failsafe, its implementation is too broad, and its trigger too vulnerable to outside magic. And this doesn’t begin to address concerns about how the layers of spells would interact with other systems—”
“No point in going forward if Goldberg wouldn’t want it,” said Jang with a shrug, pushing her pace a little, probably to try to force Machado to keep up. He held his stroll, and she fell back into pace after a few steps. “If he nixes it—”
“Goldberg will love it. Tunold will probably approve it. But until our new captain makes it through probation, you’ll need Jacobs’ consent, and he’ll never go for it.”
She seemed to think about that while Machado absently checked the broadcast spells on a Starchaser Spacelines logo as they walked. The spells were solid, and would carry announcements well. Good bit of enchanting on Machado’s part, if he said so himself.
“He might,” said Jang, bringing him back to the conversation at hand. “He hates big fights.”
“Too much risk. And you know I won’t sign off on it until it’s seen a hell of a lot more development.”
“Jeez, Mash, can’t you acknowledge someone else having a good idea?”
“I don’t know that it’s good yet. It still needs...”
Machado gave Jang a sideways look, saw her cheek twitch: she was hiding something.
“Are you bucking for your Bachelor’s?”
“I...” Jang scuffled three steps and spat. “Wouldn’t mind the pay raise, even if it means I have to pull my head out of the engines for a bit.”
Even if it means that you’ll have to develop some art to go with your technique, thought Machado. He didn’t believe she would ever make Journeyman. He’d never seen enough creativity in her spell work. But despite their personal problems, he couldn’t bring himself to discourage her. Who was he to judge how far her talents could take her?
“Just make sure you don’t mess with my spells. I’d hate to see you make Journeyman only to have to kill you myself.”
Jang snorted through a lopsided grin and clapped Machado on his back as they reached the water tube. She pulled the lever to call the bubble. “Help me with my homework and there’ll be caxaça in it for you.”
“I’ll think about it.” Much as Machado enjoyed his cane rum, he didn’t need the headache of tutoring Jang. “Heard anything about the new ex oh?”
The bubble arrived, a large pocket of air containing a steel cage that could hold close to a dozen passengers, and carried by undines in the tube. As they boarded, Jang said, “Security Deck,” to the water elementals, and to Machado she said, “I hear it’s going to be Daher. She’s only commanded little boats like the Daedalus Dream. Needs big ship experience if she wants to move up.”
“Better learn to watch your mouth,” said Machado as the bubble came to a gentle halt, the cage opened, and they stepped out into the corridor. “I hear she doesn’t take backtalk well.”
Machado continued to hold Jang back to a stroll along the pale blues of the Security Deck. The two had not gotten halfway to Goldberg’s office when they heard him bellow:
“Over my dead body!”
Machado and Jang looked at each other, then ran the rest of the distance to the open doorway. Jang easily outdistanced Machado, but had the sense to wait for him in the hall.
Through the open doorway they saw Chief Goldberg, looking grizzled and angry. He leaned over his old, stained desk, and spoke in a low tone to a woman in a charcoal gray skirt suit who held a relaxed, ready posture. Even from behind, Machado recognized Tai Shi Li Hua as much by the pleasant contours of her form and the black sheen of her long, straight hair as by the magical signature he could see in her personal power.
Two members of Goldberg’s watch tried to pretend they didn’t exist, sitting in chairs against one wall, next to the chief’s distasteful physical filing cabinets.
Machado sent a mental call to his familiar, Saravá, and readied a few spells to protect his fellow crew members, if needed. Machado knew that as pleasant as she could be to look at, Tai Shi could take down the chief before the watchmen could bolt from their chairs. She might not even need magic to do it.
“Chief,” said Tai Shi in an even tone that made Machado relax just a little, “I have a great deal of respect for you and your work. Your record sparkles. But Starchaser Spacelines is now a part of the 4M family of companies, and all 4M security is subject to my review and approval.”
Machado and Jang looked at each other. Starchaser Spacelines was part of 4M? Since when?
“4M only owns half the business,” said Goldberg, words spitting out of his mouth as though he wished they were punches. “That makes us affiliated, not owned.”
“That’s not how affiliation works, but I take your meaning. Nevertheless—”
“The last time you had security oversight of people boarding this ship, some of them turned out to be involved in a conspiracy—”
“The entire purpose of my promotion was to prevent a recurrence of such an incident by—”
“Didn’t ask. The answer is no. I handle security on this ship.”
“And this ship falls under my scrutiny.”
“Scrutinize this!” said Goldberg, with an accompanying gesture that made Machado smirk and Jang giggle.
“Chief, if you don’t cooperate, I can have you fired.”
“Bong!” Goldberg drew the word out in an imitation of the wrong-answer gong used in a popular shadow play contest. “Check my contract. Only Jacobs can fire me.”
“Unless you present a clear and present danger, at which point any superior in the organization can fire you.” She tossed a business card on the desk. “Care to read that title again?”
Machado felt Saravá approach and sent a mental command to his onça familiar to ensure that Tai Shi’s spirit dragon familiar had not gone wandering.
Goldberg slammed his fist on the desk. “How do I ‘present a clear and present danger?’”
“‘Any 4M company or related company refusing to cooperate with the Director
of Security for Inter-Business Relations shall be considered to present a clear and present danger to 4M executives.’”
Tai Shi placed her hands on the desk and matched the chief’s lean.
“I would fire you. You would sue. The courts would sort out whether or not half-interest in the company gave me the necessary authority.” She pushed in closer until they were eye-to-eye. “Maybe you get a payday out of it, but you miss being an officer on the first commercial flight to Venus.
“Which is more important to you?”
“She’s good,” whispered Jang. Machado said nothing.
Neither did Goldberg, at first. He tried to hold her with his glare, but Machado could tell that Goldberg had a long way to go before he could match the glare of a master like Jacobs. And against a magician? Machado could have told Goldberg not to waste the effort.
Finally, the chief said, “Fine. I’ll let you review any new hires I need for this voyage, and you can veto any you don’t like if, and I do mean if, you can show me cause. Maybe you have resources I don’t.” He shook his head, but wasn’t done speaking. “Also, I’ll let you inspect the ship and any cargo before takeoff, provided you are accompanied by a security officer of my choosing and either the ship’s mage or the ship’s assistant mage.”
Tai Shi drew a breath as though to speak, but Goldberg charged ahead with one more detail.
“Anyone currently part of the crew is to be considered secure, and not subject to your inspection or approval.”
“Exception: anyone hired since the Mars charter is to be considered a new hire and therefore subject to my review and veto.”
“No.”
“Need I remind you that those Pacifiers were smuggled aboard this ship by your own purser, then a recent hire?”
Goldberg hesitated, and Tai Shi added in a softer voice, “Give me this and we have an agreement.”
Goldberg extended his hand. Tai Shi shook it.
“Exception,” said Machado from the doorway, turning all five other sets of eyes to face him. “Assistant Ship’s Mage Aaron Cromartie could be construed as a new hire after that Mars run because it was at that time that he joined the crew permanently. However, he had been hired and vetted for security work for that voyage, and I will vouch for him.”
Machado folded his arms over his massive chest. “More than that, I will take it as a personal insult worthy of a duel if my word in this matter is deemed insufficient.”
“There’s no need for that, Magister Machado,” said Tai Shi, while over her shoulder Machado saw Goldberg grin. “Initiate Cromartie comported himself well on that voyage, and I will accept your guarantee of his character.”
Tai Shi looked back and forth from ship’s mage to engineer to security chief, then said, “And it seems that some ship business presses, so I will take up no more of your time. Chief Goldberg, when shall we meet about the newer hires?”
“Give me two days.”
“Done.”
And with that she left. Machado had to check his urge to watch her walk away, lamenting that she had declined his dinner invitation after that Mars charter.
“She’s going to be trouble,” said Jang.
“She’ll get worse?” said Goldberg. “Oy!”
He shook it off, dismissed his waiting watch personnel with a sarcastic remark, and turned back to the two visiting magicians.
“So what can I do for you two?”
Jang glanced at Machado, but he let her take the lead. She said, “I have this idea about ship security...”
◊
The Orb: San Francisco’s premiere restaurant catering exclusively to the magically adept. Donal gazed longingly at its elegant, black-and-silver décor as the public runner carried him down Market Street. Donal had tried for a reservation before he had left for Luna, imagining that a week would have been enough lead time for his welcome-home date with Li Hua.
His estimation fell more than six months short. But then tables at The Orb were always in demand. Even visiting magicians from other planets added San Francisco to their itineraries for the chance to eat at The Orb.
Donal wondered if the restaurant prioritized reservations by a magician’s credentials...
Fionn would probably have advised Donal to save The Orb as a treat for getting his doctorate. Donal had to guess, because his spirit deerhound remained housed while aboard the runner, per San Francisco public transit regulations. In Donal’s opinion, that regulation mattered less on runners than on the cable cars, where too many extant spirits might interfere with the elementals that kept the old relics running. But he didn’t make the rules.
At least the runner was comfortable. Cloth bench seats inside what looked like a headless, eighteen-foot-long, twelve-legged grizzly bear, seating about twenty plus the woman at the reins. Only ten other passengers today, unlike the packed, standing-room-only trip home from the spaceport Donal had yesterday.
No rushed and hostile travelers around him this time, only business types at the end of their work day. Two carried dueling swords, but probably just for show. A movement had sprung up among the United North American States to abolish dueling codes as anachronisms from the chaotic early days following the rise of magic. But no other nations had gotten rid of theirs yet, so Donal expected those codes to stay on the books, even if they weren’t needed as often as they once were.
Besides, swords were an excuse for ornamentation for either gender, though it was a more popular affectation among men.
Bran, of course, kept in practice with his dueling sword. As though, if challenged, he would pick anything other than spells as his weapon. Donal hadn’t touched a sword since his failed attempt to join the dueling club in high school.
Finally the runner arrived at the stop nearest the restaurant where Donal had gotten reservations: The Jade Monkey. Donal hopped out of his seat, dusted off the light summer jacket he wore over his ocean blue, short-sleeved shirt and dark gray pants, and stepped off the runner and onto the sidewalk.
Another passenger got off behind him, one of the sword-carriers. Probably nothing, but still Donal called Fionn out of its pendant and muttered, “rear guard,” in Gaelic. Fionn retained invisibility to normal vision and kept an eye on the possible follower.
The Jade Monkey waited a block and a half away, but if this man followed, he would know where Donal was headed and see him with Li Hua. That last part should not have been a problem ... unless Li Hua was the reason for following.
Donal thought about that as he let his eyes drift along Octavia Boulevard. Not so busy as Market had been. Donal could see two or three other knots of pedestrians, a half-dozen horses, and one two-legged runner. No movements that suggested that sword boy had a partner — assuming he was following Donal.
“He has turned into a florist shop, master,” said Fionn, rejoining Donal as he walked down the pocked sidewalk. “The woman behind the counter had a dozen roses ready for him.”
“So, likely innocent then,” said Donal with a chuckle.
“Likely,” said Fionn in a more serious voice, “but not certain. Shall I continue to watch him?”
“No. He wouldn’t be after me, anyway. I’m not on a delivery.”
“But you will be, and the matter may contested. Consider also that the Romanovs might have connections here.”
“Hierophant Mason assured me that the ‘moral crime’ defense wouldn’t extend past Luna-controlled space.”
“That does not preclude assassination.”
“There’s a happy thought.” Donal glanced over his shoulder by reflex, but saw only a young boy dashing toward an apartment building. “Let’s be honest here. If the guy were headed this way with violence on his mind, he would probably be after Li Hua.”
“And you are close to Tai Shi Li Hua. I will return to my watch.”
“No,” said Donal, stopping at the door of the restaurant, a design that blended African and Middle-Eastern designs. “Time for you to return to your pendant. We’re here.”
&nb
sp; ◊
Jacobs tossed his pen down on his desk in disgust. These chimerical workspaces used in land-bound offices simply did not replicate the way a ship’s phantasmal interface worked. Too vague. Too ... inflexible. Zoltan had promised him that the ones they purchased were as close as he could get, but they just were not good enough for plotting courses.
Zoltan.
Jacobs deflated in a sigh that dropped him back in his chair. Zoltan had abandoned ship, leaving only Jacobs at the helm. And they were being boarded.
Jacobs rubbed that spot between his eyes that always seemed to irritate him these days. He wanted to hate his old partner. Wanted to curse his name and his fate before every great sea, sky and space god Jacobs knew. And a few he had invented.
But he couldn’t do it.
Jacobs could not bring himself to hate Zoltan for doing what came naturally: making the best possible deal in a bad situation. That happy talent had helped them turn Starchaser Spacelines from a tiny shuttle service into a veritable fleet of passenger ships, a leader in commercial travel.
At least, it had been a leader until the Beamrunner’s accident last year. But even then, Zoltan’s business savvy and Jacobs’ facility with ships had gotten them through the public relations nightmare. They had come through that disaster as they had come through every other for almost two decades.
And now Zoltan was gone, and Jacobs had to fend for himself with the business side of Starchaser Spacelines, including man-who-would-be-king Donatello Mancuso, President and CEO of 4M, and de facto leader of Transterran Properties and four other corporations, if Jacobs understood correctly. Hard to keep the facts straight after the rhetoric of bin Zuka and Red Sun, who seemed convinced that Mancuso would not be satisfied until he held the planetary governments themselves in his thrall and ruled all human territories from his shadow throne.
That was what Zoltan had left Jacobs to deal with on his own: an arrogant megalomaniac who might have imperial delusions. Jacobs’ new partner.
