by Ginger Booth
“Bloki, could you please connect me to Schauble?”
“Oh, I already talked to him!”
Ben’s breath went shallow, and his heart missed a beat. “Abel?”
“On it,” Abel agreed. His window on the screen vanished.
“Bloki,” Ben said slowly, “you have no right to speak to the planetary authorities on our behalf.”
“Of course I do! I am protector of the Sanctuary envoys!”
“No. You are a stowaway. One who was very specifically barred from this mission. On Sanctuary, Loki protects Sanctuary. Not here. Not Spaceways. And not you. Here, I am in command. The envoys are safe and sound on Cupid. You are interfering with my personnel and my operation.”
The southern-drawling AI shot him a throwaway gesture and a lazy smile. “Semantics! I’m close enough to Loki.”
“Replay your conversation with Schauble. Now.”
The screen split into Bloki on the left, Schauble on the right. Ben scrutinized the Prince of Wizards as best he was able, despite the man wearing a full ‘comedy’ mask, or so Milo referred to the style – a full laughing face in white and black with pink blush spots on the cheeks, and a pointy chin.
“This is Bloki, protector of Sanctuary. I demand you release our personnel, Captain Sassafras Collier, John Copeland, President and Chief Engineer of Thrive Spaceways, and Kassidy Yang, Vice President of Marketing for Yang&Yang Nanoceuticals.”
Schauble replied in fluent English, but clipped and impatient with a strong accent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is Sanctuary?”
“Sanctuary is the stronghold of the Colony Corps. We hired these people to aid us in investigating your planet for possible resettlement. But we were unable to contact you by radio. So we sent agents into the Cantons to learn how to open a dialogue. Now that we have accomplished communications, their mission is complete. Return them unharmed, and we can commence diplomacy directly.”
Silence reigned for a few long moments. Ben admired Schauble’s poise while someone dumped a litany of impossible things on his head. “It is late. We will speak again tomorrow.” And the wizard disconnected.
Ben blew out. Could have been worse.
“You see?” Bloki followed up. “I have this matter well in ha –”
“I cut Bloki’s power,” Abel reported on screen from crew quarters. “We’ll get him air-gapped. Or do you just want him wiped?”
“You can’t do that!” Nico cried. “Bloki is a person! Just like Tante Sass!”
“Shut up, crewman,” Ben and Abel told him.
Ben continued, “The question is what tendrils the AI has embedded in Thrive’s systems. To make that call…”
“Agreed,” Abel said grimly. “I don’t have a lot of expertise up here. I guess Joey was on Merchant when Sass and Remi wiped him before. But Ben, they erased the entire ship’s programming and replaced it with Prosper’s. Without Sass’s say-so –”
“Clay’s,” Ben interrupted. “Clay and Remi are here, plus Hugo. And the masquerade is over. They know we’re here. I told quite a bit to a wizard named Adamos in Hellada, in exchange for information on their children.”
One of Abel’s eyes winced. “How bad?”
“Bad. I need to brief Hugo and the envoys. Hang on. Let me think.”
Ben hung his head in his hands. So many moving pieces, and his husband and friends were on the line, trapped by this wizard in Deutschland. He didn’t know much about the guy, save that he was powerful and controlled, and the Cantons were afraid of him. The goons he sent after Ben promised torture.
Leave that aside for now. Schauble had been informed through two different avenues, Bloki and Adamos, the gist of who Cope’s party were. Ben hoped that gave the Prince pause about mistreating his ‘guests.’
Ben was lead captain. His job was the ships, and protecting his personnel. At 02:00 hours, there wasn’t a lot more he could do.
The comm logs. “There’s an outgoing comms record for Bloki’s conversation.”
“Bingo,” Abel agreed. “Sending to you.”
“Good. Our priority is the security of our ships. I’ll talk to Hugo and the Sank envoys, and correct the line of communications with Schauble. You see what you can do to evict Bloki from Thrive’s systems.” Ben paused a moment, thinking. “Next decision is whether it’s time for you to land. Preference?”
Abel rocked his head, then shook it. “I don’t have personnel qualified to clean up the computer systems. Unless Judge?”
“No.” When Ben took both engineers to the surface to aid in the reconnaissance, he’d left his crew chief Judge to help Abel. The guy was good with mechanicals and people. But Ben himself was better for rooting viruses and traps out of the ship’s AI.
“I’d rather we come down, then,” Abel replied. “Zhao and I can take the lead on negotiations. Immigrants and opening a market.”
“Sounds good. See you as soon as you can land. Safely. Make sure your computers are obeying you first.”
Abel rolled his eyes. “And our wayward crewman?”
Ben pursed his lips sourly. “I’d lock him in the broom closet. Feel free to threaten worse. Judge knows the drill. But it’s your call as captain.”
Abel chuckled. “And the spare?”
Ben could see both teens behind Abel, hanging on the conversation. Bron was looking daggers at Nico. “Allow him the opportunity to exonerate himself. Or share the brig. But don’t let them talk to each other alone. Just one captain’s opinion.”
“Dad!” Nico begged.
“Call me before you head down, Abel. Ben out.”
Next Ben called a meeting in the galley with Hugo. On the way, he collected Clay’s blessing to bring Thrive to the surface in Sass’s absence.
After reviewing their situation, Hugo confirmed Ben’s conclusions. Then using the comms protocols Bloki used, Ben called Schauble, and left a video message.
“Prince of Wizards, this is Ben Acosta, lead captain of Thrive Spaceways. With me is Hugo Silva, our liaison with the Colony Corps descendants of Sanctuary. The individual Bloki has no authority. He was not cleared to speak to you. He will be disciplined. It is the middle of the night. But now that contact is established, we are eager to retrieve our personnel, safe and unharmed, and open a dialogue with you about possible trade and immigration. Our other two ships will be landing to facilitate this. Do not be alarmed. Our intentions are peaceful. Please contact us at your convenience, using this comms address. Acosta out.”
Be safe, Cope, Ben prayed. He wished there was more he could do. But if he were this Schauble, he’d collect and review the information he already had in the morning, then question his captive strangers before calling back.
Ben would just have to wait.
39
Cope stepped obediently into the luxurious study, ducking under the lintel. The Cantons people were no more compact than those on Sanctuary, but shorter than a stretch Mahinan. He tried to feel gratified that the lone wizard in the room blinked at his height.
The guards rolled in a handcart of his belongings, and parked it out of reach, including the pink ball of lizards. At a nod from the wizard, most exited immediately. The corporal, or whatever their leader was, had a brief interchange with the room’s master in German. Then he removed Cope’s handcuffs. And held out his hand, gimme.
The engineer reluctantly dug into his pocket and surrendered the three centimeter scrap of broken knife the guards permitted him last night, for lizard care purposes. With no handle, it didn’t make much of a weapon. Their pantomime negotiations provided entertainment on the long jouncy road to Deutschland overnight. Having escaped once, the junior wizard didn’t trust the prisoners to behave on the little pod-train cars. They used army transport instead, inching along under a force field dome the entire way.
The guards didn’t enjoy the trip any better than Cope. Their game of charades began with Cope’s suggestion they needed balloon tires for this terrain, outside the helpful gravity plates of th
e city-states. The metal-poor planet offered only 0.75 g naturally.
Now the lead guard departed. The wizard pointed to a silver star in the pile carpet. Cope assumed that meant he was supposed to stand there. He scuffed it with his boot. This wasn’t painted on. Rather, someone hooked the silver yarn into the carpet backing. His host stood on a similar gold star, bigger. He wore a ‘comedy’ mask, or at least that’s what Sass said that style reminded her of – tragedy and comedy masks. Her explanation didn’t make much sense. Cope had never seen a play acted on stage.
“You called challenge on the wizard of Benelux, without permission to duel!” the man accused. “Explain yourself!”
“That would be…Monami?” Cope inquired. “Guy with a pet hawk. Our wizard-guard is his student?”
The junior wizard didn’t like to speak English, probably ashamed by how poorly he spoke it. But they learned a little about him when the lizards escaped in the army transport. Quite an icebreaker, pet lizards. Though they had a few scary moments when one darted down the driver’s collar. Fortunately the wizard killed the force field in time before the truck plowed through it.
The wizard nodded, and his eyes narrowed.
Cope scratched his jaw. “I’m a stranger here. How did I challenge Monami?”
“You stall! Prepare to duel me!” The wizard tossed back his heavy cloak artfully, and raised a bejeweled hand, flames licking from his knuckles.
Cope pointedly side-stepped off his assigned star, and spread his empty hands before him. “I got nothing. You win. Unless you want to brawl.”
His opponent lowered his hand and allowed the flames to die. “Brawl?”
“You know. Punch each other. But wizardry, I dunno. I got a gravity generator in the cart. Want to see me flip onto the ceiling and back? Oh, and pink bubbles. Like the lizard ball.” He had some basic tools with him. Duel with a multimeter? En garde with a screwdriver?
Schauble pulled off his mask, revealing his scowl. “Lizard ball?”
“May I?”
The Prince shook his head no, and stepped to the cart himself. He raised the ball. He held it toward the light to better examine the shadows within. “Why?”
“I got three kids. Thought they might like ’em,” Cope offered. “I mean, originally, I was just saving their lives. From the air drop. The locals ran for safety. But they left the lizards and snakes to die.”
“How did you create this ball? You may point, not touch.”
In the end, Cope pulled out his own toolbelt, because Schauble’s English proved not quite as perfect as he would have liked. Then Cope demonstrated the pink bubble-gum Sagamore emergency airlocks. While he was showing off his toys, he taught Schauble to use the gravity generator as well, cautiously setting it to 0.1 g before coaching him to flip to the ceiling and wall.
“Keep it, as a gift.” Cope hoped his host was sufficiently buttered up by now. “Where are my friends?”
After dozing in the truck, the trio had dozed a while longer in a cell located in a Deutschland city wall turret. They had a window to see the last of sunset, but it was barred, and faced outward. The guards kept their belongings except for the lizard ball. Then Sass and Kassidy were handcuffed and taken away a half hour before Cope.
“The enchanters are not my problem. Come. Sit. Explain to me who you work for, John Copeland, and where you come from.”
“The women are better talkers,” Cope confessed, as he took the indicated plush armchair. “But I can try.”
“Aw, c’mon, Uncle Abel!” Nico wheedled. Abel was family!
“That’s captain and sar to you, fool!” Judge pushed him into the closet. “You can pass those brooms and mops out if you want.”
Unbelieving, Nico transferred the industrial cleaning tool caddy, complete with rags and wet vacuum and bucket on a convenient rolling base. Since stowing away on his dad Ben’s ship, Nico had grown all too acquainted with that cart. Somehow his romantic notions of space adventure didn’t include nearly as much cleaning. Probably because his damned dads were never lowly enough to push a broom.
“Judge, my real dad would never do this to me! You’ll see! When Dad’s free, he’ll understand!”
“I doubt that, chump,” Judge replied, and shoved a blanket into his arms. “Get some sleep, take your knocks. Won’t be your last in life.”
“Captain?” Nico appealed to Abel again. “I can help you with Bloki!”
“Can’t trust you, Mr. Nico,” Abel said with finality. “Breaks to visit the head. Give him a bucket just in case. Water and one meal a day. And Bron is forbidden to speak to him without me present.”
“Aye, cap, no problem,” Judge said cheerfully. And he shut the door in Nico’s face and locked it.
“Bloki’s a person!” Nico yelled. “A sentient being! Don’t murder my friend!”
“You ain’t helping your case, kiddo,” Judge advised. He gave the closet door a rap and walked away. Abel was already gone.
“But Judge, Bloki was figuring out how things worked here! I fed him all the data!”
If Judge heard, he didn’t reply.
In the dark, Nico slid down the wall to his butt, and hugged his knees. But Bloki had figured out what was wrong with this place! The vitamin deficiencies and environmental toxins, the worldwide insanity. He could help! They should know!
Maybe I should have started with that. Rego damn! Nico just got so flustered when… When people look at me! All not-friendly-like. It just tied his tongue in knots.
He knew he needed to fix that, but he sure didn’t know how.
And he feared Judge was right. If Dad Ben was mad enough to lock him in a cupboard, his real dad was gonna beat him.
No, he won’t. Dad loves me. Dad never beat him before, nothing worse than a few spanks. But he gulped. Until Bloki told him the truth, he hadn’t realized Dad was a…hardened criminal. Ben and Abel, too. Those Schuyler Jailbirds jerseys were literal truth. Maybe Tante Sass and Clay will protect me. They were cops. Right?
When Loki was Shiva, he murdered Sass and Clay time after time, just to learn how they ticked. No, they wouldn’t have much sympathy for him, either.
If his dads didn’t forgive him, he’d be dumped back in Schuyler, without even the money to pay tuition. He’d be back working at the docks. What a let-down the transport AI would be after customizing the best. And he wouldn’t be allowed to see Sock and Frazzie anymore. Granddad Nathan, Ben’s dad, would disown him. Even the fifty-credit girl with the blond afro would turn up her nose.
His fanciful imagination grew anchors of lead instead of wings, to drag the story ever downhill.
Tears flowing down his cheeks, Nico huddled miserable into his blanket and cried himself back to sleep.
Sass’s captors weren’t the bell-hops of Benelux anymore. Instead a cordon of male police in dark navy marched in lock-step around her and Kassidy, backs emblazoned with Polizei.
Sass’s gravity generator and comm tab, and all their other belongings, trailed them in a hand cart pushed by another policeman. No matter. She and her team had agreed to be model prisoners from here out, to avoid punishment.
One of the Polizei, face hidden like the rest behind a tragedy mask, demonstrated that their sticks were stun batons. Deutschland’s model century proved to be the 21st. Like most Americans, Sass minded her own problems in those days. But as she recalled, Germany had it bad during the climate-fueled waves of invaders from Africa and the Middle East, desperate to head north for survival, or even water to drink. The Central and Eastern Europeans, for a few decades among the most open-minded in the world, reverted to militant nationalism.
Everyone she saw in Deutschland, like Benelux, was white. So was Sass, but she worried for the browner Kassidy and Cope.
They marched a quarter hour through the streets of this northern Deutsch city, the largest she’d seen on Cantons. Though painstakingly swept and clean, the streets were left dark, with a single dull yellow glow ball on a pole at intersections. Establishments open for busi
ness also spilled some yellow light onto the sidewalks. Most storefronts remained firmly shuttered.
The exception was pocket parks. These were lit bright as day in a bluish light, good for the Earth plants within. People avoided those. But she spotted a squirrel once, and pigeons. Like Mahina Actual, they’d taken advantage of their domes to resurrect other species to share their lives.
That might have cheered her. Except for the incessant wailing. Shrieks in the dark made her jump and miss her step. Every once in a while she caught a glimpse of the screamers, fleeing down the street, others in pursuit. Usually it was women running, men pursuing. They wore masks to match their roles, a woman’s face sobbing, and angry nasty men.
Her coterie of Polizei ignored the side-show.
Finally they arrived at an officious-looking place near a large botanical garden. Sass longed to walk through the bright flowered paths. But instead she was ushered into a cold echoing entry hall, then up utilitarian steps to the third floor. They opened a steel-look door – likely another painted ceramic – and drew the two women inside a chamber like a large interrogation room, in windowless dull grey. The cart of belongings was wheeled to a corner.
The lead Polizei pointed to seats on one side of the single table. First Sass, then Kassidy, had her handcuffs removed only to thread them through a loop bolted to the table, which in turn was bolted to the floor. A light in the plant-growing blue-cast shined in their eyes.
And they were left alone, without explanation.
Kassidy inquired, “That…game…on the street. Men chasing women.”
“I have no idea,” Sass confessed. “The squirrels were nice. And it’s very…clean.” Even the Polizei were remarkably tidy, their uniforms neat.
“Robots do that real well,” Kassidy returned without favor. She tested the strength of the handcuffs and hitching loop, and explored whether the bones of her hands could fold to slip through the cuffs. They couldn’t. Then she tested the length of her leash. Checking to see if you can strangle someone, Kassidy?
