by J. S. Morin
There was a knock at the interior door. One of the comm techs stuck his head in. “Excuse me, ma’am. There’s a comm.”
Her datapad hadn’t chimed. Had it gotten damaged out in the jungle? She pulled it out to check.
“For Enzio, ma’am.”
She glared at the wizard, but he looked just as surprised.
“I’ll… uh, be right there,” Enzio said, straightening in his seat to stand up.
Tanny leveled a finger at him. “This isn’t over. You owe me an explanation that doesn’t fall out of a bull’s anus.”
Enzio paused, cast Tanny a look from the corner of his eye, then harrumphed and headed off after the tech without a word.
# # #
As “Enzio” waited, the comm tech ran him through the operation of the console. If the level of abstraction were any indication, Enzio had been an even bigger ninny when it came to operating technology than Mort.
“When I leave the room, just tap your finger there—without any magic—and you’ll be speaking to the other party. Hit this one, and the comm will end. Don’t hit it until you’re done talking. I’ll be in the rec center if you need any help. Don’t try to fix anything yourself. I’m more than happy to sort out any troubles you might have.”
Mort harrumphed. Sure he’d be happy to. If Mort tried “fixing” any tech, a problem that might take this noodle-brained techster minutes to resolve might turn into hours, plus new parts. “I’ve got it. I’ve got it. Now shoo.”
When the door slid close behind the tech, Mort breathed a sigh of relief. Anything was better than walking that tightrope with Tanny. Time and again, he’d wondered if he should just steel himself with a few beers—Enzio’s was a pathetic drinker—and just let Tanny have her way beneath the sheets. But it was hard enough keeping up appearances as Enzio through normal conversation. Piloting an unfamiliar vessel through intimate waters was a recipe for running aground.
But for now, all Mort had to worry about was who might be on the comm. He had his suspicions, but at this point, even a Convocation bounty hunter would be a welcome change of pace.
He hit the button the tech had indicated.
VIDEO NOT AVAILABLE, the screen read. There was a sender listed as J. Carson, but the voice was as familiar as Mort knew. “Hey, Enzio old pal,” Carl said. “Been a long time since we had a chance to chat.”
It occurred to Mort for the first time that it was possible Carl had met Enzio while he worked for Don Rucker. But that thought was a chicken without its feathers. Mort replied, trying to maintain a token effort at playing his part. “Hey, Ramsey. No hard feelings over the poker game.”
“None. Couldn’t be happier. If things are clear on your end, this line is secure.”
Mort took a deep breath. “You sorry motherfucker. Do you have any idea the misery of this place? It’s like living in a zoo, and one of the animals keeps eyeing me with that ‘breeding in captivity’ look in her eye.”
“I promised you a ride out of Esperville. Never said it would be a smooth one. Just quit.”
“The Rucker Syndicate isn’t one of those ‘just quit’ organizations,” Mort pointed out. “And apparently, Enzio was less wizard around here than personal masseur for one Ms. Tania Rucker. I don’t know what this fellow could do to her, but for a woman who could shanghai any man in the syndicate for an evening, she’s being pretty persistent.”
“Ever consider just magicking her to think you—”
“Don’t even say that,” Mort snapped. “A man’s gotta draw the line somewhere.”
Carl snorted into his comm link. “I’m pretty sure this is exactly the opposite of taking advantage of a woman with magic.”
“Is there a reason you commed?” Mort asked. “Enzio doesn’t get comms. He’s a complete, blind idiot with tech. I just had a five-minute tutorial on hitting the start and end buttons. If I turn into Chatty Charlie all of a sudden, that’s just going to be one more thing for them to get suspicious of.”
“You’re invited to my wedding,” Carl said matter-of-factly. “We’re planning on Earth. February 9th. Vegas.”
“What? That’s a week from now. I didn’t even know you were engaged.”
“Happened this morning. We’re keeping things tight.”
“Which Vegas? Vegas IV? Neo-Vegas? Vegas Free Space? Vegas Omicron? New Neo-Vegas?”
“Vegas Prime.”
“Blast it,” Mort said, slapped a hand on the wall where he imagined the guts of the console to be. “This thing’s acting up. I swore I just heard you claim that you were planning on getting married on Earth.”
“Yup. And I’ve heard the litany of why we shouldn’t. Long story short, Amy’s mom lives on Earth and since she can’t travel—”
“You’re bringing the wedding to her,” Mort said with a groan. “Egad, boy. You’re taking this new ‘do the right thing’ mantra of yours a bit far, don’t you think?”
“How far would you have gone to make Nancy happy?” Carl asked.
Mort felt the knife twist in his heart. This was why he hated arguing with the boy. He’d have made a proper wizard if he didn’t have a mind like a colander and the self-control of a politician with an expense account. The universe would have rapidly wearied of bickering with him and given Carl nearly anything he asked.
“Fine,” Mort said. “I’ll find an excuse to take a leave. Enzio is still persona grata on Earth, so there shouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Actually, bring Tanny with you. Anyone else who wants to come.”
“Why would you want to do a damn fool thing like inviting your ex to your wedding?” Mort asked as much to himself as to Carl.
Then Carl explained his plan.
# # #
It was a bright, sunshine-bathed day in Esperville, land of eternal early morning. Birds sang unseen in the nearby forest. Dewdrops tipped the untamed grasses. A crisp, fresh breeze blew in from the lake.
When Esper entered her own mind, the birds redoubled their efforts, and the lazy clouds puffed up proudly. The lady of the estate sucked in a lungful of delicious air and savored it before releasing it with the gasp of a connoisseur.
A wedding!
She knew she was too old to be bowled over by sappy, happily-ever-after dreams that white dresses and organ music conjured. But she was a wizard; Esper could let her mind take her anyplace she liked. And if she wanted to envision a world of Typhoon tales told by a fireplace to little Carls and Amys, that was her prerogative.
This was too fine a day, too fine an occasion to enjoy alone. “Mort!” Esper called out, voice carrying clear in the cool air. She filled her lungs and bellowed. “Mooo-ooort!”
The crotchety old wizard appeared before her in a blink. “What?” he griped. “I was in the middle of something.”
“Eating nachos doesn’t count as being in the middle of something,” Esper scolded mildly. “You must have seen. Did you see? Did you hear?”
“Yeah, the big dummy’s taking a fourth swing at marriage,” Mort said, shrugging with his hands concealed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. “I suppose the fact he’s trying with a different girl is an improvement, but if he thinks the last three failures were Tanny’s fault, he’s got a faulty mirror.”
Esper stuck out her tongue and made a rude noise. “You’re just jealous.”
“Why? Because I’m a disembodied shell of a man with a loving wife he abandoned to take up a life of theft and murder?”
Esper winced. That was a little too close to true despite not having meant it that way. “I mean, just having someone to love and to love you for the rest of your days. It’s just so… romantic.”
Mort harrumphed. “And yet, when faced with the prospect of that being Cedric for you, Ms. Fairytale Princess decides to take a holiday and play dueling tongue massages with a pirate.”
Even in Esperville, she could blush. “I forget that you can see. I had… uh… hoped that maybe embarrassment might have kept you from—”
“Nope.”
“So did I. Know a helluva lot more about my own boy than any father ever should. Morality really isn’t much of a chain when you realize how easily it snaps. Just a tug and it shatters. You always had it in you, but you were too afraid of breaking it. But it doesn’t seem to go back together so easily, huh?”
Esper huffed. “So. That’s what this is about. You’re going to poo on the parade route because you’re sad and wistful and oh so moral.”
Mort barked a single, mocking laugh. “Moral? Me? You’ve emptied out my soul like a Halloween pumpkin. Guts and goop all slopped out in their glory on the kitchen table. I’d gambled too often and too well, but even the best gambler has losing days. First I lost Nancy because I couldn’t abide the Convocation’s rules. Then I lost any chance of reinstatement by burning a few fine rental lawmen alive. Then I lost Cedric because you tempted him down the primrose path to getting his father back. Not long after, I lost my body to a duel I should have won if some sniveling excuse for a wizard hadn’t resorted to pulling a blaster on me. Now, look at me. I’m a remnant of my former self, sequestered in this saccharine purgatory until you’ve had your fill of tormenting me into your version of righteous.”
A tremulous breath shook Esper’s chest before she answered. “I was hoping you’d be happy for Carl and Amy.”
“Happy?” Mort scoffed. He lifted his arms to the azure sky above. “What possible happiness is there for me? I’m a prisoner without a body, trapped in a pastel shadow of a world I showed you how to create.”
This wasn’t the Mort she knew. Something was wrong. Esper had known him for three lifetimes at least. Mordecai The Brown was a wizard of indomitable will and unrelenting guile. It had been the greatest challenge of her lifetime just keeping him in check within her mind. Had she finally destroyed that will by keeping him too long a captive?
“Maybe I can have Keesha come in here and—”
“Never!” Mort thundered. “Let the damned world think me dead. Tom Sawyer got to enjoy his funeral because the jest was short-lived. I refuse to have to trample on the grief of every acquaintance who believed the story of my death. To them, I am dead.”
“But Keesha was more than a—”
“Never, I said!” Mort shouted her down. “If you thought I was trouble before, that was when you showed some signs of possible sympathy. If you insist on dragging in everyone I’ve ever known to see the once-mighty Mordecai The Brown as a hollow husk of the man they knew, I’ll find ways to make you regret the day you ran away from Mars.”
Esper licked lips gone suddenly dry. The mental onion peeling had worked both ways when she had spent her evenings in Mortania. The old wizard knew things she’d never told a soul before nor would again. Things her mother had called her. The pain of the cosmo surgeon’s sometimes weekly visitations. The ways she’d used the body her mother had forced upon her to enact petty, misguided vengeance…
Mort had long been a friend, but this warden relationship had strained that bond. She knew the cruelty he was capable of, the depths to which he would go in order to demolish a foe. So long as he was a passenger in her mind, Esper had always believed herself safe from the worst he might attempt.
But what if Mort didn’t care anymore? Had she pushed him so far that he might steer the vessel their minds shared into an asteroid field?
“Let’s drop this. I’ve got actual happy people I can commiserate with.”
# # #
Yomin’s room was possibly the most crowded on the Mobius. Despite the fact that her roommate didn’t need a bed, Archie enjoyed collecting technological devices of all sorts. Yomin’s all had a distinct purpose—not mere hoarding—but nonetheless her stash was the equal of the robot’s.
The two of them sat on the bed, and the shape of a plan to not get everyone killed slowly took shape. “First off, slipping past the security perimeter is a non-starter. I imagine with a deep enough astral drop we could get by, but the second we appear in the wrong place without credentials, we’re dusted.”
“Agreed,” Archie replied with a curt nod. “Earth has 102 percent effective ship detection scanners.”
“How’s that even possible?”
Archie hung his head. “It was supposed to be a joke. Hyperbole. Of course, they can’t have 102 percent effectiveness. That would mean a false positive rate of 2 percent over and above never missing an actual reading… or something. I don’t know. I used to be funny.”
With an apologetic shrug, Yomin replied, “Not that I’ve ever noticed.”
Archie flung a hand toward the room’s window, overlooking the abyss of stars visible from their parking spot on Pleasant Valley. “Before, I mean. Before I lost my fleshy existence to those meat-stealing soul shovelers at Harmony Bay. I could tell jokes. People laughed. And back in those days, it was a damn sight easier to tell a real laugh from a fake. I didn’t have to run a vocal profile to compare against known samples and detect artifacts of forced mirth. I used to just know the difference.”
“Well, the difference now is that if we show up in Earth orbital traffic space without a clearance from the border checkpoints, we’re done for.”
“It would be a quick way to go,” Archie pointed out.
“We’re gonna have to get scanned. No two ways about it. Maybe searched, too, since we’re not the squeaky clean sort that customs enforcement waves through with a polite nod.”
“From what Carl claims, Mort used to confuzzle the wits of scanner crews and inspection teams all the time,” Archie said. He picked up Yomin’s Earth Navy computer core, complete with top-secret decryption keys, and held it up as a visual aid. “These are the sorts of devices we can easily pass off as our legitimate property.”
“Forget the core,” Yomin said, leaning across and tapping a fingernail on Archie’s chassis. “You’re supernova hot. Not only are you Harmony Bay property, technically speaking, you’re also a violation of Convocation rules against AI. Government inspectors aren’t going to let shit like that slip by. You’d be shipped off to a secure military facility for deconstruction. Probably deletion, too, once the Convocation gets wind and makes a stink.”
“Oh, believe me,” Archie said. “I know the stink those old wizards can emit. Well, I remember knowing. Not sure I could actually relate to the sensation of smell anymore, frankly.”
“What we need is a stripped-down list of must-have tech. Anything hot, we need a plan for keeping secret.”
Archie shrugged. “We’ve got this asteroid. Why not just leave all the troublesome contraband behind? Travel clean for once.”
Yomin snorted. “Clean? This ship? Please. For one, I just got done explaining how you’re totally—”
“I’ll stay behind.”
Yomin blinked. “What?”
“I’ll stay here. Plenty of power for recharging. We can reach three different astral relays to keep in contact via the omni. Plus, I don’t imagine I’ll be the only conscientious objector. Earth isn’t for everyone.”
Yomin nodded soberly. The idea of going without Archie left a little hole inside her, but the robot was right. Earth was the safest place in the galaxy—for the right kind of people. They didn’t get that safe by taking chances with anyone who didn’t fit a psych profile and criminal history to their liking. Luna and Titan still had their dregs, but even Mars was too high-end for Earth’s castoffs these days.
“Problem is,” Yomin said. “If this trip is only solid citizens and legal tech, we’ll be shipping a vacuum-sealed box of nothing. And we’d have to buy the box new.”
# # #
The image on the mining station’s communications screen was grainy. Carl had to bite back a chuckle at how appropriate “grainy” was for a comm to New Garrelon, the EADZ’s leading exporter of grain. But the low-res version of Rai Kub on the other end of the connection was clear enough to show that he was smiling.
“Congratulations, Savior Carl,” Rai Kub said. “I am most pleased that your reproductive prowess has resul
ted in a return to traditional values.”
“Um… thanks,” Carl replied, scratching at the back of his neck. “Hadn’t really thought about it in those terms. Guess I’d really just been thinking that neither of us was as fucked up as we worried the other thought.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Savior Carl,” Rai Kub said. “You are more desirable as a mate than you know. You own property. You have a starship. You fight for good causes, even if you don’t fight only for good causes.”
Carl had noticed something as the stuunji spoke. “You keep calling me savior. You’d given that up shortly after you got to know me. What gives? The New Garrelon propaganda machine got you buying in on the party line or something?” He smirked at the idea.
Rai Kub’s face fell. Stuunji facial expressions weren’t always the plainest to read, but to Carl he appeared aghast. “Of course, not! You stole back our homeworld from armed aggressors with no bloodshed. My greatest shame is that our security plan required us to deal with an enemy of yours who will not permit you to visit the people you rescued. You might not have been the savior I envisioned when you freed my sister and I from Gologlex, but you became much greater than I’d ever imagined. You are a man. I do not call you a prophet or incarnation or anything divine. You are not pious at all. But in the secular sense, you are indeed the savior of the stuunji people.”
Carl swallowed past a lump in his throat. “So… does that mean you’ll be able to attend?”
Rai Kub sighed. “Even if I were able to complete the tortuously difficult process of obtaining a xeno permit to visit Earth, my job here is never ending. Tuu Nau wasn’t speaking lightly when he said New Garrelon needs me. The more of me I give, the more it wants. I don’t mind the work, but it leaves room for little else.”
“Don’t go working yourself too hard, buddy,” Carl told him. “Gotta live a little in the cracks between massive culture-wide economic decisions and interplanetary trade negotiations.”
