Starship's Mage: Episode 3

by Glynn Stewart

  The Major leaned against the wall next to the door, watching David and Jenna with his strange eyes. The bridge was silent for a long few minutes, until the door slid open again and Damien walked in.

  “What’s going on, Captain?” he asked. “One of the Augments said you wanted to see me? Why are they passing on your messages?”

  “I apologize for the deception,” Niska answered, stepping in behind Damien and closing the door. “I needed to speak to you three alone, with the rest of the ship in the dark for the moment.”

  “Now that Damien is here, can you please explain why the hell you’ve locked me on my own bridge?” David demanded. On his console, he’d brought up a series of commands that would lock the Legatan crews in their quarters, slam down barricades to split up the Augments, and order Singh to break out the Exosuit and the guns.

  “Vice-Director Ricket did not explain all the details of this contract with complete honesty,” Niska replied calmly. “We are not making this delivery to Mercedes.”

  “Are you hijacking my ship?” David asked, his hand hovering over the activate command.

  “No,” the Augment replied cheerfully. He tossed a datachip to Jenna. “You’ll find the details of your new course on there. You will also find, if you review your contract, that you are subject to non-discretionary revisions such as this on the authority of an appropriately authorized officer of the Directorate – in this case, me.”

  David released the activate command, sighing as he faced the soldier.

  “And just where do you want us to take these ships?”

  “Chrysanthemum,” Niska answered.

  “No,” the Captain replied flatly. Chrysanthemum was one of the worst of the UnArcana worlds – a Fringe system notorious for finding any fault they could with the Mages coming through, and for running a military junta as a government. “I agreed to deliver to a civilized planet, not a Fringe hell-hole.”

  “Your contract allows…”

  “That clause is unenforceable, and we both know it,” David interrupted.

  “Yes,” Niska agreed. “However, you would have to take us to court in a Protectorate system – a place that you have even less interest than us in ending up.”

  “So if we deliver to Mercedes, you won’t honor the contract?”

  “As the contract has now changed, we would not feel obligated to reimburse you for delivering to the incorrect system,” the LMID soldier replied. “That said, I am authorized to expand your remuneration if you do deliver to Chrysanthemum. As you pointed out so eloquently, the risk profile is significantly different.”

  David cursed himself for ever taking a job from a Military Intelligence unit. Throwing the whole lot out of the airlock was tempting, but he wasn’t entirely sure that being vented into deep space would actually kill Niska and the other Augments.

  “How much?” he grated out.

  “I am authorized to double your compensation,” Niska offered.

  Doubling their compensation would bring this job to ten times their normal rate for a delivery of this scale. It would easily set them up for the Fringe run that would keep them safe.

  “That’s… almost worth it,” he said bluntly. “If this contract had been openly presented as such, I would likely have accepted it. Why the cloak and dagger?”

  Niska seemed to relax slightly.

  “Among Chrysanthemum’s longest-standing issues is a conflict with one of the large interstellar corporations from the Core,” he explained. “They worry, not entirely without precedent, that the corporation will use mercenaries – or possibly even outright Navy pressure – to force them to change their stance in certain negotiations.”

  “In exchange for certain contracts, promises, and domestic reforms, my government is providing them Group Commander Mons’ ships and crews at a token price. But we want to keep both that Chrysanthemum is arming, and that we are engaging in such a charity case, very quiet. Mercedes could buy the gunships, so we officially declare they are being shipped there. We re-direct now, light years from anywhere, and no one is the wiser.”

  “And if someone does try and force Chrysanthemum, they run into a gunship squadron that shouldn’t be there,” Damien observed quietly.

  “Yes,” Niska confirmed. “And since the core crew is Legatan, there is also an increased pressure on the Chrysanthemum government to keep their promises of internal reform. They’ve been giving the UnArcana worlds a bad name recently.”

  “No one is going to argue with that,” David agreed. He sighed, and turned to Damien. “Once you’ve had a chance to rest, start plotting a new course. It looks like we’re visiting Chrysanthemum.”

  #

  “Welcome to Chrysanthemum, left butt cheek of the universe,” Jenna announced as the system resolved around them. Two weeks of jumping with the gunship crews and augments had started to grate on the Blue Jay’s crew – the ship wasn’t that big, and an extra hundred and ten bodies filled up the space on the Ribs more than anyone was used to.

  Chrysanthemum was a six planet system wrapped around an old but unchanging K-class red dwarf. The outer three planets were gas giants, with the second planet easily habitable with a workable biosphere.

  “I’m reading one station orbiting the fourth planet,” Jenna reported. “Maybe a dozen in-system ships shuttling back and forth between the station and Chrysanthemum, nothing over a couple hundred thousand tons and some change.”

  “There’s no station over Chrysanthemum?” David asked.

  “Yes there is,” Niska told them. The Augment had arrived on the bridge shortly before their arrival in-system. “May I?” he asked, stepping up to an empty console. David gestured for him to go ahead, and he manipulated the controls, zooming in on the habitable world.

  “They pulled an asteroid into orbit when they colonized the planet,” he explained, highlighting the captured rock. “The plan was to eventually use it as a counterweight for an orbital elevator, but right now they’ve set up some fuelling infrastructure and a few micro-gee factories on the Rock.”

  “Send a note to the planet,” David instructed Jenna. “And then set our course for the Rock.” He turned to Niska. “I suggest you and Mons’ people start going over the ships,” he continued. “I don’t really plan on staying here for long. When do I get paid?”

  “Once the ships have been delivered and we’ve had a chance to inspect them,” Niska told him. “Give me a day or two once we’re in place – should let you find some kind of cargo on Chrysanthemum.”

  “And just what does this place export?” David asked, eyeing the planet on the screen.

  “Paranoia. Surveillance satellites. Tanks. Some really good fish.”

  #

  An hour passed in quiet. Niska eventually left the bridge as the Blue Jay slowly made its way towards Chrysanthemum. David sent Jenna to get some rest, as they were easily thirty six hours from the planet still. He was alone on the bridge when the transmission from the planet finally arrived.

  “Chrysanthemum System Control to freighter Blue Jay. We have received your identifiers and cargo description. Please confirm that you can establish an encrypted link with the Group Commander of the LSDF contingent and stand by.”

  David flipped open an intercom channel to Group Commander Mons quarters.

  “Commander Mons, I have a request for an encrypted channel for you from the surface,” he informed her. With a four and a half minute delay on all communications, he had the time to check with her before replying.

  “Thank you Captain,” she replied, sounding brightly awake. “I’ll link in and provide you with a code set to use to link them directly to me.”

  A few keystrokes later, David had set up a connecting channel for Mons that even he couldn’t eavesdrop on, and then recorded his response to CSC.

  “System Control, this is Captain Rice aboard the Blue Jay,” he introduced himself. “Channel 77-15-AC has been set up for an encrypted channel. Group Commanders Mons advises you to use encryption group G
amma-Five.”

  He sent the message, and settled back into watching the ships move around the system. Five minutes for each transmission to travel one way made for long conversations.

  Ten minutes later, his console advised him that an encrypted recording had come in on the channel he’d provided. A few minutes later, Mons used the Jay’s transmitter to send a response.

  By the time several exchanges had passed along the encrypted channel, an hour had passed, and then he finally received a transmission directed at him.

  “Captain Rice, welcome to the Chrysanthemum system,” the uniformed traffic controller told him. “Unfortunately, we have no ability to provide docking for a vessel of your size – any attempt to land a vessel of your size on the Rock would likely cause structural damage. I am transmitting an orbit that will allow Commander Mons’s teams to land the gunships without issue. Once that is complete, we will be able to send a tanker out to fuel your ship up – consider it our part of your fee.”

  The man glanced over to one side, reading a message that must have come up on a screen that was off-camera, and then glanced back to David with a surprised look on his face.

  “The President has also personally asked me to invite you and your senior officers to join us for the celebration of the Midsummer Festival,” he continued, slowly. “Your arrival is timely – the summer solstice for our northern hemisphere falls tomorrow night, so you should be able to enter orbit, offload the gunships, and make it down with time to spare. We should be able to get your ship fuelled while you’re on the surface.”

  David waited for a long moment, trying to make sense of the man’s reaction. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with the tanker docking with the Jay while he was on the surface, but it would allow them to head out quickly if he found – or clearly wouldn’t find – a cargo. With a shrug, he switched the recorder on and smiled at the traffic controller.

  “Thank you for the welcome,” he began. “Inform your President that my officers and I will be glad to attend.”

  The best way to avoid a trap, in his experience, was to walk into it with your eyes wide open.

  #

  Damien had spent almost the entire trip either in his lab, the simulacrum chamber, or hiding in Rib A with Kelly, where none of the passengers had quarters. After his one meal with Niska, the only members of their Legatan passengers he’d seen had been the four Augments assigned to guarding the simulacrum. Those four young men had been unfailingly polite, if skittish around the Mage.

  He was in his lab, ignoring the guards outside and looking forward to a planned dinner with LaMonte, when the Captain buzzed him.

  “Captain,” he answered the intercom, flipping the feed from the bridge up onto his work-screen.

  “Damien, how is everything looking on your end?” Rice asked, his eyes focused on his own screens, away from the camera.

  “We’ve no issues,” Damien answered, somewhat confused. “All of the runes are clean, the amplifier is fully functional.”

  “The locals have invited the ship’s senior officers to the surface to join them in a local festival,” David told him.

  “You need me to mind the ship while you’re gone?” Damien asked. If the remainder of the ship’s senior officers were ground-side, he would technically be in charge. He wouldn’t leave the simulacrum chamber, but the console there would allow him to fly the ship – and the amplifier he controlled from there was the Jay’s only real weapon.

  “That’s the odd part,” David replied, shaking his head. “They didn’t exclude you, and every other time I’ve been invited surface-side on these kinds of planets, they usually make that point very clear. I’m not sure they’re saying what they mean, and I want you to keep your eyes open.”

  “You think the Legatans are plotting something?” Damien asked, thinking back over his limited encounters.

  “No,” the Captain answered, sounding a little surprised himself. “I think Niska and Mons and their people are as level with us as they’re going to be, outside of the diversion. The locals though… I don’t trust them. I want you with us on the surface – without your medallion, Damien.”

  Damien touched the gold medal he wore on a leather collar around his neck. The three stars and quill carved into it marked him as a fully trained Jump Mage. He’d earned those carvings, and technically Protectorate law made it a misdemeanor for him not to wear the medallion itself. Without it, though, there was no way to identify him, even for another Mage.

  “I can do that,” he said softly. “Who are we leaving behind?” Unless they wanted to put his medallion on someone else, they could only claim four senior officers – Captain, First Officer, Chief Engineer and First Pilot.

  “I’m leaving Narveer aboard, with that war-suit of his,” Rice explained. “They’ll be sending that fuel tanker over while we’re on the surface. The whole thing stinks, but I don’t see a way out without risking offending Niska – who still has our money. So we play nice, and take precautions.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Damien replied, his fingers on his medallion. “We’re flying down when?”

  “Late afternoon local time, about noon tomorrow Martian Standard,” Rice told him.

  Before Damien could respond, a buzzer announced someone at the door to the Chamber. “I have a visitor,” he told his boss. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  As he cut the video feed, the door to the room slid open and Niska stepped in. Damien turned on the platform suspended in the center of the ovoid room to face the Augment, who calmly stood on the screens that made up the walls.

  “What are you after, Major?” Damien asked.

  The Legatan soldier shrugged, hitting the button to slide the door shut behind him before he said a word.

  “I’m here to warn you,” he said bluntly. “I heard about Chrysanthemum’s invitation – I’m sure your Captain is wise enough to see the trick in them not explicitly excluding you, but I wanted to make sure.”

  “Most UnArcana worlds make the use of magic illegal,” he explained. “On Chrysanthemum, being a Mage is illegal. I don’t think they’ll risk pissing of Legatus by causing issues with your crew, but they’ve been known to use any excuse to arrest Mages and seize ships.”

  “We weren’t planning on it,” Damien told him dryly. “I’ve been arrested, Major; I don’t care to repeat the experience.”

  Niska shook his head. “Be careful, Damien,” he asked. “I know you don’t like me, but you’re one of the most humble Mages I’ve ever met. If all your kind were like you, the Protectorate might be a better place.”

  “Chrysanthemum is run by a paranoid military junta,” he continued. “In exchange for the gunships, they’re supposed to be running elections in the next six months. Until then, though, the place is run by scum I wouldn’t trust to polish my boots, and they’re my allies.”

  “Whatever you do, Damien, don’t go to the surface.”

  #

  Damien watched the gunships leave early the next morning from the simulacrum chamber, with Kelly LaMonte, one of the other junior engineers, two of the pilots, and a bottle of champagne. With the Blue Jay in orbit, the room at the center of the ship had no gravity, making pouring difficult, but the small celebration was worth the effort.

  Each gunship detached from the cargo pylons on the side of the keel in turn. A few, carefully timed, jets of the maneuvering thrusters flung the small warship through the gap in the freighter’s rotating ribs. Once clear, the characteristic white flare of an antimatter rocket flashed into existence, and the ships headed towards the Rock, the captured asteroid fifty thousand kilometers ahead of the Jay.

  “That went a lot better than I was afraid it was, even with their cloak and dagger bullshit,” the older of the two pilots, a buzz-cut young man named Kelzin, announced. “Can’t imagine it was comfortable for Damien here,” he nodded to the Ship’s Mage, “but they were polite to the rest of us.”

  “The ones Niska let deal with me were polite,” Damien admitte
d. “I think if he or Mons had any people they weren’t sure could play nice, they kept them under wraps.”

  “It is going to be so nice to have half the ship back,” Kelly observed. It was hard to cuddle in zero-gravity, but she was doing her best to stay snuggled up to Damien’s side – with his enthusiastic assistance.

  “We’ve still got some time on station here,” Damien replied. “The Captain’s going to try to find a cargo – we may end up carrying passengers out, too.”

  The pretty young engineer made a face.

  “We’ll see what comes out of the party,” Kelzin told the others. “Singh says I have to pretend Damien is my boss.”

  “What?” Kelly asked, turning to look concernedly at Damien. “Chrysanthemum is an UnArcana world, you can’t be planning on going down?!”

  “There’s a lot going on the Captain isn’t comfortable with,” Damien told her quietly. “He’s hedging his bets by keeping the only one of us trained in boarding and counter-boarding up here, and taking the heaviest firepower we have – me – down to the surface.”

  “I’m leaving my medallion behind, and pretending to be the Jay’s First Pilot,” he explained. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Singh says the whole setup stinks,” Kelzin agreed. “We’re sticking a whole bunch of those carbines Singh found us aboard the shuttle.”

  “I don’t think the Captain really thinks anything is going to go down,” Damien reassured Kelly. “But if it does, between the Captain, Kelzin and me, they don’t have a big enough army to take us down.”

  He felt her shiver against him regardless.

  “Be careful, Damien,” she asked. “You’ll be in more danger than us – the only thing the rest of us will be up to is hooking tubes into receptacles.”

  “Yep – and you have lots of practice with that recently,” Kelzin told her innocently.

  Kelly promptly emptied her champagne bulb into the pilot’s face, causing him to spin back, messily wiping bubbling liquid from his face, to the general laughter of the Blue Jay’s younger officers.