by Reiter
“I can see you’ve thought out everything, sister. Her place, your wishes, it is amazing how they seem to fit together.”
“I am a force of the universe,” Thandace bragged in a slightly feigning tone. “I cannot be denied.”
“I see,” Quordion said as his eyes drew focus on the latest addition to the assembled guests.
“Captain JoJo Starblazer and attendant,” the caller announced. Jocasta stepped forward to be presented to the room, and many heads turned to see her form wrapped in a lavish royal purple gown adorned with cloud crystals, amethyst gems, and polished lavender-opal stones. Her slightly tanned skinned worked well against the color of the fabric, the jeweled tiara set atop her head, and the bracelet she wore over elbow-length gloves.
Quordion took hold of his sister’s hand, but he never took his eyes off the captain. “Remember the hound-stalls can be especially tricky to get clean. But don’t worry, I’ll see to it that Teo has a pitchfork made to suit his size.” Quordion moved from his place in the line and started toward Jocasta.
“Well that was an easily enough lost wager,” Thandace whispered to Teo. “Do you think we can weed out the spy that the Songstress saw working in the kennels inside a month?”
“Three days at most,” he replied. “After that we will counsel with the animals and institute the network we’ve been working on. He will need it before you take your leave of the barony.” Thandace sighed at the thought of leaving her brother without her protection. “No, Sister, you cannot watch him every waking moment. Not when you have to see to yourself.
“You have only taken one of your four forms!” Teo projected. “You are heir to the throne! You know that after our joining you will live much longer than his MajiKs can sustain him. Eventually you will be Baroness! Will you wait for the moment when that is declared to begin readying yourself for the office?!” Thandace petted the top of Theo’s head before she kissed the side of his face. She would not voice any agreement, but she knew her shadow-brother had spoken truthful words.
“That is then,” she declared. “Let us enjoy the now,” Thandace said as she walked toward Jocasta. “Did she look that good in our vision?”
“Seeing through the sceadu has a way of dulling the image,” Teo explained. “The purple was not nearly as vibrant in what we were given to see.”
“But it works,” the two said together.
“And here they come,” Jocasta thought, seeing the Baron and his sister making their approach. “I have to keep reminding myself that they don’t personally own the Haggenshire so it’s no skin off their noses!
“Mingle, Siekor,” she commanded.
“As you wish,” the young man replied, giving a distinct bow to his captain before turning to walk away from the woman. He was not even out of sight when the Baron and his sister initiated conversation with Jocasta. The exchange was brief, as Quordion invited Jocasta to dance with him. She had not yet voiced a response when he led her to the dance floor.
“My lady, thank you for delighting our eyes and inflaming our passions,” Quordion said as he took Jocasta into another turn. She smiled, spinning away from the Baron but catching his hand. She spun her way back to him and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders with her back to his chest. “But then again, that was your intention, was it not?” he whispered, not needing an answer.
“My First Baron,” Jocasta giggled, slapping Quordion’s hand harder than it might have sounded. “I am beginning to think you are trying to take advantage. This is, after all, our third dance this evening. You are neglecting your other guests.”
“Damn them,” Quordion quickly replied, gazing deeply into Jocasta’s eyes. “I was their Baron yesterday and I will be again come morning. But tonight I just want to be Quordion dancing with a beautiful woman.”
“But it’s the Baron I have business with, dear Quordion,” she reminded him. “And you know the age-old adage: business before pleasure. It has been nearly an hour, and I’ve mingled more than I care to. I think I’ve held up my end of being an invited guest.”
“Indeed you have, JoJo,” Quordion agreed. “Once this piece is done, let us adjourn to a chamber my sister has had prepared.” Jocasta moved in close, wrapping her arms around Quordion’s neck. Her eyes never moved from his as she used her right hand to depress the signal switch of her brace-com that was under her glove.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“Do you think she forgot about us?” Olkin asked, carefully whispering every word.
“From what I’ve seen from her feed, I wouldn’t blame her,” Pristacia replied. “And we’re wearing our masks, Cupid. If someone hears us over the stuff Z’s packed these things with, trust me when I say it was meant to be!”
“Right,” Olkin said in a normal voice. “I keep forgetting.”
“Just relax, man,” she urged. “JoJo chose us for very specific reasons. If you have any trust in the Captain, you should know she has major trust in you.”
“Okay are you mind-working me, or are you leveling with me?”
“Both,” Pristacia quickly answered. “Don’t forget, you’re one of the Musketeers!”
“One of the what?!”
“One of the three that went with JoJo back at Gulmar,” she explained. “It must have taken a serious combination of stones and moves to push that woman into giving you pirate names. You three have been the center of attention for a while.”
“You mean us four,” Olkin corrected.
“You got me,” Pristacia relented. “One of the four, but what a four-pack! And it still can be if you and Sil let Llaz in.”
“You make it sound like Tank’s already–”
“The man with the so-called handicap is the standard by which the rest of us are measured,” Pristacia insisted. “And from my perspective, we all come up short. Some more than others.”
Olkin thought about it for a moment and Pristacia could hear him breathing heavily in his mask. “You’re really into those head lessons, aren’t you?”
“You want to know Z’s first lesson of mind-screwing?” Pristacia asked.
“Uh oh,” Olkin chuckled.
“He sat me down, took hold of my face and moved in real close. He kept looking down at my lips and started telling me about Malgovi mating rituals! He half-lunged at me and I screamed my head off!”
With anyone else in the scenario, the bowman might have been worried, even angered. But he knew, or wanted to believe, that such things as molestation were beyond the First Mate of the ship. Olkin tried to keep from laughing, but he failed miserably.
“Yeah, damn funny now!” Pristacia continued. “Anyway, when I finally stopped screaming, he sat down in a chair, leaned back, put his elbows on the arms of the chair and did that fingertip touching thing in front of his face. ‘So, let us see if we can fathom why you acted and reacted the way you did. After all, Pristacia, you cannot manipulate the thought processes of others until you at least understand your own.’ The beginning of each class was pretty much the same thing; him making me do something and then me figuring out how he took the initiative of thought out of my control.”
“Whoa! Sounds too deep for me!”
“I felt the same way,” Pristacia returned.
“Was I supposed to not notice that was past-tense?” Olkin asked and he could hear Pristacia chuckle. “I swear to the gods of pain, hate, and anguish if you rip off some ‘well done, young student’ line, this plan is screwed because I will kill you!”
“Then I reserve the right to answer the question at a later date,” Pristacia giggled.
“You little bit–”
“We’ve got our go signal,” Pristacia said as she pushed on the panel above her body. As promised it came up very easily, and Pristacia sat up from the floor of the lander. She stepped up out of the hole and reached back to give Olkin some assistance. “You’re a good mattress,” she remarked. “We have to do this again!”
“Oh, she’s pushing it tonight,” Olkin whispered as he wal
ked toward the rear of the craft.
“Yes I am,” Pristacia thought, “and you’re thinking of that instead of getting too wrapped up worrying about the mission. ‘Did she forget about us?’ Please, Olkin! The woman is a pirate and this is a score!”
Stooping down to look at the small monitor, Olkin activated the optics and it swept in a full circle around the Lander. He looked back at Pristacia who was checking her mask. “All clear, and Central says the last patrol just left this section thirty seconds ago,” he reported, reaching to his back and pulling out a slender rod from the sleeve along the side of his quiver. The sliver of metal and plastiform composites quickly unfolded into his compound bow, and the door in the belly of the Lander opened. Olkin dropped down and Pristacia readied the piton gun and zip-line hardware.
The two moved quickly and quietly from under the shuttle before scurrying under the nose of the adjacently parked ship. Pristacia looked at her brace-com and marked the time. They had another three minutes to get into position, and the path to the ladder was without interference. While she looked out for roaming guards, Olkin had his brace-com attuned to seeking out sensor stations. The suits were proof against non-direct fields, but if they were to break the line of a direct laser, an alarm would sound. Fortunately, the security in the landing bay was not that tight, and they reached the ladder without incident. Olkin remained in the lead position as they climbed up two decks to the rafters of the chamber.
“A minute forty,” Pristacia reported as she reached the top.
“One hundred seconds heard,” Olkin replied, cueing up an arrow. The gears of the quiver moved quickly to answer his request, and he pulled the arrow. “We’re a little early, but I think we should keep going.” Moving as far right as he could, Olkin dropped to one knee as Pristacia ran by him, readying the piton gun. When it signaled that it and the specialized gravity anchor had power, thermal units and pressure locks were activated throughout her suit.
“Agreed,” she whispered as her goggles scanned the target area. A red flashing light made her stop running and she slid to a stop on her right knee. “Contact!” she exclaimed. “… ahead in the fourth quadrant off my vector.”
Olkin was already facing in the same direction as Pristacia. He looked down and to the right of her and he could see two hover-bikes coming into view. The riders wore the uniforms of the private security contingent for the Haggenshire. “Copy that, I see them,” Olkin said as he replaced his arrow and cued up another. “And with no word from Central, these boys didn’t call in this extra patrol. Glory hounds,” Olkin said, pulling the arrow from the quiver. He nocked the bow and took aim with the fluidity of a master. “Go-getters like this deserve a promotion… all the way up to major distraction.” He released the arrow and Pristacia heard the soft air-slicing whisper of the shaft. It struck the rear right side of the second bike, and all of its systems started to fail. Losing control of the hover-bike, the man struggled, screaming when he turned into his partner and crashed into her hover-bike.
“I’ll take that,” Olkin whispered, depressing the thumb switch on his bow. “Five seconds,” Olkin said as the bikes slid to a stop. Pristacia would have preferred to have been closer to her target, but the Point Man had made the call. She lifted the piton gun and aimed. She did not want to risk targeting lasers being detected, so the aim was unassisted. She was far left of the target when Olkin said ‘two’. She breathed out slow and came right. “Arrow destruct,” Olkin commanded, releasing the thumb switch. A second burst erupted from the crash site at the same time the piton gun fired. It was not a bull’s eye, she had come too far right seventeen centimeters, but it was well within tolerance for their needs.
“Line is secure,” Pristacia reported.
“I’ve got your back door,” Olkin said as he waved toward his crewmate.
“Roger that,” Pristacia said as she got up to her feet and started running. She took hold of the cable that was on a very slight incline and headed to the left of the rafter. Reaching to her back, Pristacia took out the latest creation of Mel and Kryltane. They called them ‘runners’ and they were hand-held, motorized zip-line riding machines. She slapped the first of two runners down on the cable and jumped, taking hold of the handles. The runner powered up and, with Pristacia already running, it did not take long before it was at its maximum velocity. Pristacia allowed her feet to trail behind her as she approached the glass the specialized gravity anchor was attached to. “Here we go,” she whispered as the runner maintained its speed.
“Fly with me, Z!” Pristacia thought as she prepared herself for the second stage. Nearing the window, Pristacia swung her feet forward and the runner struck a marked tab on the cable. She could hear another explosion as the handlebars swung forward while the runner itself quickly slowed to a stop. Olkin had covered his end of things. Now he just had to hold the hangar as long as he could. No alarms had sounded yet; JoJo’s plan was actually working.
The contact of runner and anchor cued an energy pulse and Pristacia’s body swung through a small portal, phasing through the window. The momentum of her swing carried her body up and Pristacia flipped, pulling her knees up to her chest to get as much height as possible. She held her breath as she went through the first flip… into outer space. Pristacia could feel her suit flash cool, but the internal thermals did not allow it to get too cold. The artificial gravity of the platform was less than what she had felt inside, but it was enough to keep her from flying off to the stars. She flipped a second time as the anchor flashed and she reached for the second runner. An energy beam fired from the anchor up at a very sharp incline to the tower where one could find the offices of Pwalzikun Haggenshire. Looking through the goggles, the beam appeared to be bright yellow; to the blind eye it was next to invisible. In the middle of the third flip, as she started to come down, Pristacia took the second runner and swung it up into the energy beam. The electromagnetic well caught the line, and Pristacia’s body weight was maintained by a one-handed grip. She grunted in effort as she threw her free hand up to take hold of the handle. The two-hand grip was the trigger for the runner to activate, and a transmission pulse was sent back to Central, the Xara-Mansura.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
Olreye sat at the helm and looked over at the console as the transmission from Pristacia was received. He looked up at Llaz and the man realized he was in no rush for a position of authority. “Princess is on her way,” he reported.
“They’re a little ahead of the gun,” Llaz monitored, looking at his brace-com. “Awww, who am I kidding, she’s going to love that!” Llaz opened a channel to Jocasta. “Beware the ides of March,” he said. “Act one, scene one and three-quarters.”
Olreye was thoroughly confused and turned in his chair as Nielsen walked on to the Bridge. “What did that second part me–”
“Princess is ahead of schedule?” Nielsen asked and Llaz nodded to the affirmative.
“Oh, that’s what it meant,” Olreye said as he turned back to the controls for the ship.
“Captain’s going to love that,” Nielsen said calmly.
“Oh yeah,” Llaz agreed. “She shouldn’t… but she will.”
“Easy, Boss,” Nielsen said as he looked at the tactical map. “JoJo’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. Not to mention this scheme is her brainchild.”
“You let me know when you get to the witticism that, when said to Z, doesn’t make your throat feel tight,” Llaz asserted.
“My throat’s not tight at all, man,” Nielsen returned. “I won’t be the one who has to tell him.” Nielsen chuckled, but the laughter choked in his throat when Llaz glared at him. “You know, that sounded so much funnier in my head. I think I should’ve left it there.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Llaz replied. “You absolutely should have!”
Everyone has a plan ‘till they get punched in the mouth.
Mike Tyson
(Rims Time: XII-4203.23)
The song the orchestra was playing was
drawing to a close when Jocasta received the transmission from Llaz. “Yes!” she thought, as she struggled to keep from smiling. “Ahead of schedule. Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
“Is there something the matter?” Quordion asked.
“I know this music; this particular piece,” Jocasta said. “This dance is about to end, and a good number of ladies seem to be eager for your company.”
“I could say the very same thing for you and most of the men here, milady.”
“Perhaps, but I am not a Baron,” Jocasta returned. “I cannot in good conscience continue to take up your time. But…”
“But?” Quordion asked. The two stopped dancing and Jocasta could easily read the man, as he had dismissed all of his false faces. The flaring of his eyes, his nostrils, and the way his hands found her waist, she knew he wanted more than a silent and still moment.
“Another place and time, Quordion,” Jocasta thought as she moved to place her cheek against his. “I’d take this to the next level. But this pirate’s got to see to her booty tonight!
“We do need to stop dancing, but I don’t have to let you go just yet.”
“Is this where you remind me of the business we have to see to?” Quordion asked.
“Thank you for the dances, Baron Orgen,” she whispered before kissing the side of his face; her lips touched at the back of the jaw, nearly to his neck and very close to the ear lobe. It was a kiss that Pristacia had suggested, and with the way the Baron’s grip on her waist tightened, she had achieved the intensity she had been aiming for. “Thank you even more for everything your eyes have said this evening. Please believe I heard every word.” She stepped back and took hold of his hand. “Shall we?”
“Indeed we shall.” Quordion walked with his normal grace, placing his other hand at the small of Jocasta’s back. They walked from the main room and down a long corridor toward a room where two of Quordion’s guards were waiting. Jocasta also took note of the footfalls that entered the corridor behind them. They only walked so far before stopping.
