by Stefon Mears
Jacobs took note on his paper notepad to chart their course as close to the no-fly zone as he could get away with. If Mancusco had anything unsavory planned, Jacobs could turn him right over to the Navy. And though much had changed in the Navy since Jacobs served on the old steel ships, one thing had certainly not: the Navy took a dim view of people causing trouble at high space.
Three precisely even raps on the frame of Jacobs' open door announced the arrival of the yeoman, Kelly, who leaned at a crisp thirty degree angle through the doorway when Jacobs looked up.
"Mr. Tunold to see you, Captain. And welcome back, if I may say so, Sir."
"You may, Mr. Kelly, and thank you. Send him in."
Tunold galumphed in, as though his body were run by a bear's spirit that never acknowledged the human form's limitations. Not for the first time Jacobs thought that if Tunold had been born a thousand years earlier, his people would have put a sword in his hand, a bear skin on his back, and launched him at the enemy with the other berserkers.
But then, Jacobs own ancestors might have given him similar treatment (albeit in a very different region).
Jacobs indicated a chair with one hand while he adjusted his display with the other, preparing to make a point to his executive officer. But Tunold spoke as he heaved himself into his chair.
"Officers are on board with the mission. Goldberg is having troubles with Tai Shi."
"He can handle her. Look at this."
Tunold listed to one side for a better look, then narrowed his eyes.
"Jesus. Think the Navy wants enough space to themselves?"
"What do you think? Hazard or a project?"
"What difference does it make?"
"We swing too near a hazard and they'll be worried about us. Too near a project, and..."
"And they'll greet us as spies." Tunold shifted his massive jaw from side to side. "Who the hell would spy on the Navy?"
"Mars," said Jacobs with a shrug. "Corporations, probably. Hell, maybe the colonists. I can't imagine they flew all the way to Venus intending to live right under the Navy's thumb."
"Might be worried about a quick move for independence, like Mars tried."
"Tries," corrected Jacobs. "They're not done yet. But who they're worried about isn't our problem."
"You're right," said Tunold with a sigh that shook his whole torso. "Want me to check with a few contacts, see what I can dig up?"
"Make sure they know why we want to know."
"You mean you're going to share our flight path this time?” Tunold’s eyes widened in wonder. “I figured that with Mancuso and his cronies aboard..."
"Can't be an official first commercial run without a verified route, confirmed by the ship's own nav system."
"All the crap dropping on your shoulders right now and you're still worried about getting this trip recognized as the first commercial flight to Venus?"
"Hell yes." Jacobs slapped his desk with one hand, and for just a moment the familiar position of arguing with Tunold across this desk almost made him smile despite the point he had to make.
"Think I'm doing this for my health? Starchaser Spacelines needs this to happen and succeed."
If Tunold felt any need to fight the lopsided grin that pushed its way onto his face, Jacobs couldn't tell.
"Going out on top, eh, Skipper?"
"Damn straight."
◊
Donal intended to sleep late.
Staying with Li Hua for the night meant waking up in the accommodations 4M provided her whenever she was in town: a corner suite on the top floor of the Hamilton, the most luxurious hotel to perch high in the San Francisco hills.
Unfortunately, Li Hua must have set a mental alarm, because she was up and moving before the morning fog had burnt off. Donal did get to enjoy a few lazy minutes of expensive silk sheets and subtle, relaxing spells that had been expertly woven through the mattress, but the sound of her chatting through a comm pad (with the display disabled) and the site of her moving about in nothing but an untied hapi coat finally drew him to wakefulness.
Donal slipped out of bed and into a hotel robe, almost as comfortable as the bed had been, and for similar reasons. The first time Donal had slept here, he had lain awake marveling at the scores of spells permeating the suite, but by now he had grown almost accustomed to them: relaxed enough to savor the delights without needing to gawk.
Not entirely unlike how he often felt about Li Hua, though he could not deny that Fionn was right. Donal’s life was more dangerous with Li Hua in it. But what he could not make Fionn understand was that Donal’s life was more fun with her in it.
He considered that as he stood beside the bed and watched her pose just outside her closet, one long finger tapping on her chin as she considered her clothes.
“You know,” she said, “if you’re going to insist on wearing a robe when you could be naked, you should at least bring something sexy.”
She turned to look at him, the gape in her hapi coat making her point for her. “I see too little of you as it is.”
“Take some vacation time. Let’s travel a bit for fun before I start school.”
“Too much going on right now. You know that.”
“When isn’t there too much going on?”
“Skip the Venus contract, Donal.” Li Hua’s lips formed a tight line. “Too big a coincidence that someone wants you on this flight.”
“People tried to kill me on the moon, too.” Donal shrugged. “I survived.”
“You were rescued by a Hierophant.”
“I wasn’t ready for trouble. I will be this time.”
Li Hua smiled. Not the bitter smile of someone accepting a fact she could not change, but a secret, deeper smile, that only barely showed around her lips but came across in full in her eyes, her posture. Donal almost thought she was going to throw off her hapi coat and make herself late for work, but she spoke.
“You love it now, don’t you? That thrill I told you about, when your life is on the line and you need every resource you have to survive. That’s the real reason you’re taking this Venus job. You love it as much as I do.”
“I need the money. And...”
Donal drew a deep breath. Li Hua waited, with seeming infinite patience, and the nature of Donal’s thoughts kept even the sight of her from distracting him. He could not tell her his suspicions about Mr. Mancuso.
But he would not lie to her, either.
“I have responsibilities. I owe it to myself and my magic to see this through.”
Li Hua winked, one raised eyebrow telling Donal that she knew he was not telling her the whole story. “Of course. Responsibilities. Well, I can’t argue with that.”
She turned and pulled a sapphire blue blouse and Navy blue skirt out of the closet and hung them on the door, her eyes checking for minute flaws. Donal almost turned to see about a shower, but she said, without looking, “You know, Donal. The only way to get what you really want out of life is to accept yourself for who you are.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Once you do that. You can have anything.”
Donal had to admit that she lived what she preached. Li Hua might have complaints about her job or her boss from time to time, but she lived in luxury, traveled more and further than over ninety-nine percent of the human race. And she loved her work.
Donal stepped into the plum blossom smell of the bathroom and hung his robe on the shaped silver hook that would slowly heat anything it held to a comfortable warmth and maintain that temperature, however long the robe might wait there. He looked past the pale purple marble sink to the matching separate tub and shower, the latter with its multi-spray design.
This was how Li Hua lived every day. Far from the simple apartment Donal kept, and further still from the tiny house Donal grew up in, attached to his parents’ woodworking business. Wealth, challenges, satisfying work: she had a right to talk about how to get what one wanted in life.
But she never talked about meaning. Donal
wanted more than thrills and perks. He wanted to make a real contribution to humanity. He worried about the long view.
Donal stepped into the shower stall, quickly bringing the water to the perfect temperature. He closed his eyes and soaked, accepting the truth he could not explain to Li Hua. She lived for the moment. But for Donal, each moment existed to set up the next. She had instants. He had transitions.
But, Donal wondered as he began to soap himself down, was that the truth, or only what Donal wanted to be true?
Donal had to admit that he had felt thrills when he had outwitted Red Sun conspirators, thrown together an illusion that deceived even a zuglodon, and outfought bin Zuka in the Comórtas Draíocht, the duel of magic. Could Li Hua have been right? Did Donal seek the thrill of learning the truth about Mr. Mancuso and taking action, or did he merely want to make certain humanity’s future was not shaped by a tyrant ruling from the shadows?
What did Donal really want from his life?
A soft hand stroked his shoulder, and Donal turned to see Li Hua, sans hapi coat, smiling as she stepped into the shower with him. Through the touch she slipped a thread of her personal power into his, sharing, not influencing, but still drawing Donal’s attention on every level.
“Maybe I can’t fit in a vacation just yet,” she said, “but I have right now.”
And in that moment, even Donal could not worry about what might follow.
◊
Jacobs sat in the back of the runner cab and tried not to think about the side-to-side sway of its lizard-like gait. Never seasick a moment in his life, never carsick or airsick, but something about the movement of runners discomfited Jacobs’ stomach. He could not think of them as vehicles, however many times he might have ridden in one by now, however similar aspects of their interiors might have been to cars.
Cars had paint, not skin or scales or fur. Cars had wheels, not legs. Cars had “new car smell,” a scent distinctly their own. To Jacobs, all runners smelled vaguely like dead animal. And cars never felt like speeding drunken camels.
But cars were gone, and Jacobs had never learned to ride a horse. So for his trip out of the city and down to Millbrae, a runner cab had to suffice.
At least the day had been productive. All of Jacobs’ officers were ready for tomorrow’s takeoff. Even Goldberg, who had spent the better part of the day in his office with Tai Shi, seemed confident about their readiness. Of course, when Jacobs had left the ship, the two remained deep in conference about security, but Goldberg knew better than to lie to his captain about progress.
And Tunold had promised to check on them.
Tunold’s military contacts turned up nothing useful, so Jacobs charted a course to skirt that red zone as close as he dared. Of course, between Earth and Venus there were other hazards, but staring at the charts had not made them go away. In the end, the route had been plotted, quadruple checked by Jacobs himself then again by Tunold, Burke, and finally officially by San Francisco Port Authority.
Port Authority had complained about several of Jacobs’ choices, of course, but damn them anyway. They only needed to log the Horizon Cusp’s route, not approve it.
Only one thing remained before Jacobs hit space once more. And he had in mind to check it off his list before he returned to the ship for dinner with his crew.
The neighborhood was wild with growth, like much of the Bay Area. Old concrete broken up and returned to dirt in many neighborhoods, with the remains of the concrete going to alchemical plants for some damned purpose that no one had shared with Jacobs.
But no raw dirt in this neighborhood. Oh, no. Here the sidewalks and streets gleamed like jewels with just enough roughness underfoot for an easy grip.
The runner mercifully came to a halt. Jacobs’ stomach came to its halt a moment later.
“Dispatch said you wanted to be picked up, too?” said the driver, a girl with a hard look that spoke of rough rides in much worse neighborhoods. But she had survived. Jacobs respected that.
“Just wait. I won’t be long.”
“All right, but the dial keeps spinning.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Jacobs got out and walked up the polished cobblestone walkway to the two story house that probably could have served as a hangar for the Daedalus Dream and at least two runabouts. And these days the house was probably paid for.
Jacobs raised his hand to give his normal, resonant knock, but his eyes flicked across the gloves he wore. He belayed his movement. Instead he reached for the bell pull and rang it once.
Jacobs forced his breaths to come slow and deep as he waited, even when he heard approaching footsteps. He flexed his hands to make sure their blood flowed nice and even.
The front door opened and Jacobs saw the trimmed black curls and beard, the pale face and broad jaw and narrow chin. Jacobs’ right cross drove that jawbone back and up, up enough to pull expensive loafers off the shag carpet.
Zoltan landed flat out on his back, dazed and moaning. Jacobs stood in the doorway and waited, fists clenching and relaxing. He knew his old partner would get up soon enough. Zoltan might not have been a fighter, but Jacobs had held back his punch.
At least, a little.
“Owww,” said Zoltan, finally, rubbing his jaw and shifting on his back as though trying to find a more comfortable spot on the carpet.
Jacobs stared at his former partner, possibly former friend, and waited. He didn’t want to wait. He had many things he wanted to say. Or yell. But Zoltan had been his partner for a long time, long enough to earn a chance to speak.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, John.” Zoltan managed a sitting position, one hand still rubbing his jaw and the other investigating spots on his back. “My back may come out of this worse than my face.”
Jacobs felt his teeth grind, his fists clench a little tighter. But still he held his silence.
Zoltan looked up, a bit bleary. He got his first real look at Jacobs, and Jacobs had no doubts about the image of restrained fury he presented. Zoltan dropped his hands, then raised them in surrender.
“I had that coming, I know.” Zoltan stood, a slow, painful-looking process that ended with him stooped forward. “I hope I can get an alchemist over here tonight.” He raised his hands again, still stooping.
“I’m sorry, John. I had to take the deal. If I didn’t, he would have buried us both. This way he gets his Venus flight and we both get to retire.”
“You had this planned, and you dumped it on me.”
“Given your reaction—”
“You should have told me.” The words came out a low, almost feral growl, a tone that had silenced mess halls and bars in the past. “You were my partner.”
“I should have told you.” Zoltan dropped his hands. “The deal said I couldn’t. But I should have found a way. Something coded in your ship. Something.” Zoltan tried to smile, but winced and rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry. If you want to hit me again, I probably deserve that too, but I hope you don’t.”
Zoltan met Jacobs’ eyes now, and Jacobs saw pain that went beyond anything Zoltan had suffered from that right cross.
“You were always the brave one, John. I had the business savvy, but you had the guts. I let him scare me.”
Jacobs felt his fists unclench. “You did what you had to. I get that.” Jacobs let out a breath that almost sagged him against the doorframe. Only a small act of will kept him upright.
“But if we’re going to stay friends, you can’t betray me like that. Not ever again.”
“Never again, John. I swear. And if there’s anything I can do to help you with Mancuso, maybe on a consulting basis, just let me know.”
“Unpaid consulting.”
“John...” Zoltan furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “All right, I guess I’ve made enough money off this to cover you.”
Jacobs allowed himself a small smile now. Zoltan extended one hand and Jacobs shook it.
“You can shake my hand with the hand you used to flatten me,” said Zol
tan. “Insult to injury. Could you at least pretend you hurt your knuckles on my jaw?”
“Modern boxer’s gloves,” said Jacobs showing off the soft leather with spread fingers. “A gift from my ship’s doctor. Apparently he thinks that his captain acting like a street brawler is insufficient reason to disrupt the flow of his duties.”
Zoltan snorted, then winced. “Have a drink with a backstabbing bastard?”
“I wish I could, but I have to get back. The Mancuso storm hits tomorrow.
“Besides,” Jacobs added with an evil grin, “I got what I came for.”
◊
The lunch crowd at the Jade Monkey was sparse on the day Donal would leave for Venus, only a half dozen suits scarfing down meals before they rushed back to work. So Mr. Mohatar made excuses to stand beside Donal at his table-for-two, with Fionn in the other seat, fully visible.
“She is beautiful, Donal. Shame on you for not bringing her here sooner.”
“She is dangerous,” said Fionn.
“All women are,” said Mr. Mohatar.
“Says the man married longer than I’ve been alive,” said Donal.
“That’s right.” Mr. Mohatar nodded his head emphatically. “My Amina destroyed my miserable single life utterly, demolished it beyond recognition or repair and trapped me in this existence of blissful happiness.” Mr. Mohatar smiled so wide Donal’s plate might have fit in his mouth. “Some dangers a man must conquer to be truly alive.”
Fionn shook its head with a snort of disagreement.
“You will not sneeze on my food,” said Mr. Mohatar with a wag of his finger at the cú sidhe.
“He’s not sneezing,” said Donal. “He hoped you would side with him.”
“Against happiness? Never! Donal, I think you’ve bound a demon.”
Donal laughed at Fionn’s exasperated expression — finding such eye and jaw movements hilarious on an emerald green deerhound — but before he could speak, the door chime sounded and Mr. Mohatar had to see to a new customer somewhere behind Donal.
Fionn spat out a few words that perhaps only familiars could understand before finally switching to Gaelic to mumble, “The one approaching you now would be better for you than Tai Shi Li Hua.”
