by T. J. Berry
She rode the lift up to the cargo hold and checked on her provisions. The Settler’s Deluxe had pop up shelters, fire starting materials, MREs, and enough seeds and animals in stasis for fifty interplanetary colonists. It would be more than enough for one. She’d also picked up a basic backup wheelchair from a surplus shop. Where she was headed, it would be wise to have a spare.
The Stagecoach Mary’s cockpit was expansive compared to the Jaggery. Humans liked to put a dozen people on their starship bridges to sit and keep everyone busy while they watched the viewscreen. She rolled to the center of the room and transferred over to the captain’s chair.
“Lay in a course heading for… the most distant habitable planet on Reason surveys,” she said to the ship.
“Course laid in. FTL Stagecoach Mary, cleared for takeoff.”
Jenny strapped herself in and pulled out the takeoff checklist.
“Would you like me to initiate launch?” asked a voice.
“One sec,” said Jenny. “I’m Jenny Perata, your captain. What should I call you?” She’d never had an AI ship before. She wasn’t sure how to talk to it.
“You can call me Mary,” said the ship.
“Good. Mary, bump your sarcasm level by seventy percent and up your belligerence by the same. Enable profanity, change dialect to Kiwi, turn on autopilot, and push the crew risk profile up to maximum. And turn off scald protection on the showers.”
“Fuck you, Captain.”
“Belligerence down by thirty percent.”
“Are you bloody well ready to leave?”
Jenny smiled.
“I am bloody well ready to leave, Mary.”
Jenny was thrust back against her chair without warning. She would have laughed if she could have breathed. It took eight minutes to get out of Jaisalmer’s atmosphere. Jenny kept the gravity off for old times’ sake. She was still faster floating than walking.
The viewscreen changed from the blue morning sky to the darkness of orbit. She whispered toward the stars.
“I’m coming for you, Sap.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Will Penny Makes a Trade
Cowboy Jim walked the streets of Jaisalmer, stepping over bodies and crunching through broken glass. A kid with blood all over his face leaned out the broken display window of a storefront, reaching for him. Jim pulled away. There wasn’t no good way to get blood out of the soft leather of his favorite coat.
“Buddy, please,” said the kid. “Help.”
“No change,” said Jim. It was his standard reply to street people. Hands reached out of the busted-out window and dragged the kid back inside. He kicked and screamed, but it wasn’t none of Jim’s business. Besides, he had a mission that was feeling a mite critical right about now.
When the Bala filth disappeared, everyone had lost their goddamned minds. It mystified Jim and made him mad. This is what they’d all wanted, but no one seemed happy about it. Yeah, the street sweepers and manicurists and creatures who operated the sewage treatment plant were all gone, but there were always down-on-their-luck dudes who were willing to do grunt work like that. Lord knows he’d been one of them back in the day, shoveling manure for the cow nurses before he’d gotten some money to go off to engineering school.
Jim heard a familiar voice coming from a surplus tent down a deadend alley.
“Honored guests of this new establishment, I would like to offer you a gift for coming here on our grand opening. I have here one of the three sacred relics. This ring, once you put it on, will turn anything you touch to solid gold. You’re not going to find anything like this on Jaisalmer. Especially not after today. Who wants to be the first to try?”
Jim’s hackles stood on end. It was Ricky Tang, who was nothing but bad news. Jim turned his head away from the open door, but Ricky saw him anyway.
“Cowboy Jim! Come on in and try out the ring!” she called out. He shuffled over to the tent and poked his head inside. Ricky sidled up to him.
“After all we’ve been through, Jim. Why don’t you give the ring a try?” She leaned close to whisper in his ear. “It’s not turning things to real gold, but they won’t notice until they sober up.”
He pushed her away and she stumbled back, knocking into a chair.
“Don’t you touch me. Freak.” He leaned back toward her ear. She smelled like a particular flower that had been wiped off every planet in the system. It reminded him of the time he torched those greenhouses full of plants back on Earth. There wasn’t no water on that planet for wasteful plants like flowers. “None of these boys know what you really are, but I do. One word from me and this joint vanishes.”
Ricky looked surprised, then angry.
“You know, I deal with bigots like you every day of the week. I’m not afraid of you and I’m not ashamed of who I am, but a single word from you could get me killed and you know it. That’s the only reason I will ever defer to you, asshole,” she said, and turned to head toward the front of the room.
Jim paused. He only had to tell her secret to the uniformed boys and they would take her into custody. It was tempting. He decided to hang onto his leverage for the moment. As far as he was concerned, there was a war coming up and he’d be smart to have some people in his back pocket.
An explosion rocked the building across the street. Jim pulled his hat low to block the dust raining down like snowflakes. People moaned in the rubble. Someone would come along to help them shortly. He had somewhere he needed to be.
The guard at the gate in front of Reason Command was adamant that he couldn’t come in.
“Sir, we are in lockdown right now. I’m afraid I can’t let you in for your appointment. You can reschedule with the regimental administrative officer.”
“No,” shouted Jim, poking his finger into the guy’s chest. “I have something the colonel wants to see.”
“I don’t care if you have Lady Nashita’s knickers, sir. You’re not getting in today.”
A civilian in a kitchen worker’s uniform ran up to the gate and shoved Jim out of the way. The gate guard lifted his rifle and pointed it at the food stains on the cook’s chest. A half-dozen uniformed soldiers hung back and waited.
“Please, sir. Let me in,” said the cook. He lifted his hands to show that he was unarmed.
“Back away, sir,” barked the guard.
“They’re chasing me. They beat up the other guys on the line. Please.”
“Back up or I will fire.”
The guard stepped into the street, pushing the cook back toward the soldiers. Jim saw his opening. He slipped behind the guard and into Reason Command. He heard a shot behind him, but didn’t bother turning around. He hoped with all his might that the elevator was still working.
Jim walked stiffly into a fourth-floor waiting room.
“I have an appointment,” he said to the regimental administrative officer. She looked up and recognized him.
“You’re that guy who was with Gary,” she said.
“Whatever,” he shrugged. She motioned for him to take a seat.
“I’m good,” he said, looking around. The newspapers on the table were ones he had read already. The RAO watched him from her desk.
“Nice hat,” he said.
“It’s a dastaar,” she replied.
“Nobody asked for a history lesson,” said Jim.
She opened the visitor’s log, tilting her head in that jaunty way that meant a woman was annoyed. Jim had seen that tilt many times before. He knew he was being rude, but really, every damn creature, human or Bala, wanted to tell you all about their culture. Their weirdo gods, their super special headgear, their special pronouns that made no sense, and their food that crawled around on your plate and smelled like feet. Why everyone couldn’t be normal people with normal food and normal clothes was beyond him. Everyone wanted to make things complicated so they could get attention.
“Name?” she asked.
Jim gave the fake name he’d been using ever since the Reason went to hel
l. The one from the best movie he’d ever seen in his life.
“Will Penny.”
The officer’s mouth fell open. Maybe she’d seen that movie too. A buzzer on the desk sounded. The officer motioned him toward the colonel’s door.
“You can go in now,” she said, barely breathing. Her right hand hovered over her service weapon. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said she was thinking of shooting him.
Colonel Wenck was on the phone when Jim entered. His face had healed all the way up since the Blossom. They probably had some massive stores of unicorn blood set aside for brass like him. Or they used to. All that was gone now. Jim pulled his hat low and hoped that he had a face that was easy to forget.
Wenck slammed down his phone and cursed. The strip of clear plastic that served as a makeshift window blew into the room. Smoke wafted in. Outside the surviving window, the staccato report of gunfire echoed down the avenue.
He looked up at Jim and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. Jim didn’t think Wenck had gotten a good look at him back in the Bitter Blossom before they blew him away. He was betting his freedom on the hope that the man hadn’t taken notice of his face. It was a bad bet. Wenck’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re that old spacer from the bar–” he began, reaching for his phone. Jim put his hand over the receiver.
“Now Colonel, give me one minute to explain what I’ve got. You’ll be interested, I promise.”
The colonel tapped his tablet out of habit, but it was as dead as all the other computers in the Reason, locked up with Pymmie nonsense.
“Mister?” askied the colonel.
“Penny. Will Penny.” A couple of hours ago, there would have been no way to pass through Reasonspace with a fake name. But with the computers offline and no FTL ships going out or coming in, it was like pioneer times all over again. You could just pay some guy to whip you up a laminated ID and you became a whole new man.
“Have a seat, Mr Penny.”
Jim looked apprehensively at the chair.
“No, thank you. I’ll stand, sir.”
“You realize that my time is short now that all of the Bala have disappeared, Mr Penny. However, you apparently said something to my RAO that piqued her curiosity. She said I’d want to hear your story.”
“Well, sir. For a short time, I was in possession of the stoneship Jaggery. Before it departed, I had access to the ship while everyone else was elsewhere.”
“Mr Penny, hurry it along.”
“Sure. In any case, sir, it was a bitch to break. I’m sure you’re aware of the tensile strength of the material in its raw state. I ended up using redworm acid to get through it. Took a while, but I was able to secure a sizable portion of unicorn horn before the Bala were sent off to lord knows where – had to wrestle it away from an angry dwarf lady, but I got it.”
Colonel Wenck leaned his elbows on the desk.
“How much horn, Mr Penny?”
“Five or six inches.”
Wenck whistled.
“How the hell did you manage to hide it from the Pymmie? Every piece of unicorn horn in the system disappeared when the Bala left. Heck, every bit of spell or secretion that wasn’t inside of a human being simply vanished.”
Jim shrugged and gripped the back of the chair.
“There’s always a way around a rule, sir.”
The Colonel steepled his fingers and swiveled his chair.
“You have an incredibly valuable resource, Mr Penny. Even before the departure, it would have earned you a lifetime of luxury. And now–”
A brick came through the remaining window. The Colonel crouched in his chair. Jim ducked, then sucked in his breath and groaned.
Wenck went to the broken window and screamed outside.
“We have security cameras. You will be brought up on charges.” He sat back down. “Goddamn looters. The mess halls on base were left unstaffed when those Bala disappeared. They worked all the food lines and the cook stations. Another forty-eight hours and we’ll have to start using chemical weapons on our own people. So when you come in here and say that you have a good-sized chunk of unicorn horn to sell, you have one hundred percent of my attention, Mr Penny. I can offer you damn near anything you want at this point. Cash, ships, land… hell, I’ll give you my eldest daughter in exchange for that horn. It would really save my ass.”
Jim shifted uncomfortably at the word “ass.”
“Colonel, sir, I’m looking to give you this horn for free.”
The officer slapped his hands down on his desk.
“Well fuck my mother and call me son, that is the best news I’ve heard all year.”
“There’s just one thing I want.”
“Name it.”
“I want to borrow a ship. A big one. Troop carrier. With as many men as you can fit onto it. And I want a big enough piece of this horn to chase down that Bala filth on their new planet and drag their asses back to Reason.”
A smile spread across Wenck’s face.
“Mr Penny, I like your style. Usually, you’d have to be a commissioned officer to get a command like that.” An explosion rocked the building, sending the remaining bits of glass in the window to the floor. “But a few openings have recently become available.”
He picked up his phone and mashed a button.
“Singh, get Lieutenant Cy over here ASAP. Tell him I have a mission he’s going to be extremely interested in.”
The colonel slammed down the handset and reached out to shake Jim’s hand.
“Mr Penny. Captain Penny, when I have my horn, you’ll have your ship. When can you deliver it?”
“If you have a restroom and a newspaper handy, about ten to fifteen minutes.”
The colonel pulled his hand away.
“Well, sir. You can give that horn to Subedar Singh, my regimental administrative officer. Captain Penny, you’ve done a great service to the Reason. We will not forget how you put your ass on the line.”
“You have no idea,” said Jim.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people who helped bring this book to fruition and I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. It took a long time to get to this moment, but that made the journey all the more meaningful to me.
Dave, you were there for the birth of this idea and you stood with me at every step in the process. Twenty-five years and you still find ways to surprise and delight me. I couldn’t do any of this without you. My boysies, you are amazing people and my loudest cheerleaders. Without you, I wouldn’t know how to solve a Rubik’s cube or the subtle differences between Fullmetal Alchemist and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.
The Robot Gang – Marc Gascoigne, Penny Reeve, Phil Jourdan, Mike Underwood, and Nick Tyler – I’m so grateful that you took a chance on a book about unicorns in space. There was a time, years ago, when I picked an Angry Robot book off the shelf and hoped that someday I could be counted among your authors. You do incredible work and I’m thankful to be a part of what you’re creating.
Sam Morgan, I’m so glad to have you in my corner. You’re a fantastic agent who stepped in with a sure hand and a sense of humor to stop me from making terrible publishing choices. The rest of my terrible life choices are on me.
I’m incredibly grateful to Meleika, Elly, Nithin, Shruthi, Liz, and S. who offered their time and expertise to make this book better. Thank you for your hard work, insights, and patience. This book is a thousand times more accurate than it would have been without your kind assistance. All the good parts are yours and all of the mistakes are mine.
Much love to the members of Team Arsenic, who are always ready with hugs and a listening ear. Ditto, with love. I’m also appreciative of the Clarion West family as a whole, especially Neile and Huw, who guided us through the workshop crucible to emerge stronger than before. Thanks to everyone at the Pub who offered advice when I needed to focus and distracted me with MCU fanfic when I needed a break. Stay hydrated. Hugs to the Codex Writers, you nudged me to f
inish this story and held your breath with me during the submission process. I’m also much obliged to my intrepid friends on the Writing Excuses retreat who helped me fix a few key story moments. I can’t think of a better place to work on a manuscript than sailing the Baltic Sea. And finally, this book would not exist without Coke Zero and the Pacific Rim soundtrack.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TJ Berry grew up between Repulse Bay, Hong Kong and the New Jersey shore. She has been a political blogger, bakery owner, and spent a disastrous two weeks working in a razor blade factory. TJ co-hosts the Warp Drives Podcast with her husband, in which they explore science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Her short fiction has appeared in Pseudopod and PodCastle.
tjberrywrites.com • twitter.com/tjaneberry
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Magic in Spaaaaace
An Angry Robot paperback original 2018
Copyright © TJ Berry 2018
TJ Berry asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
UK ISBN 978 0 85766 782 3
US ISBN 978 0 85766 782 3
EBook ISBN 978 0 85766 781 6
Cover by Lee Gibbons.
Set by Argh! Nottingham.
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