by J. S. Morin
With no answer returning on the wind, Rai Kub was forced to come up with his own. “Because Keesha Bell is their friend.”
A pious stuunji wasn’t supposed to judge. However, that judgment was already in play. The humans known as Carter and Brewster, despicable little creatures that they were, had already faced the judgment of Carl and the rest of them.
Rai Kub squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with one hand while the other stuffed another bite of hay into his mouth. As he chewed, he tried to find some rationale for going along with Carl’s plan to subvert the falling gavel of justice and steal away the perpetrator of the mother crime that birthed the lesser criminals already in custody.
It sounded like eating dessert while the main course rotted.
“She’s a criminal,” Rai Kub said softly, lest anyone outside the door hear him talking to himself. Such keen little ears his shipmates wore.
“But we’re all criminals,” he countered.
Humans were clannish animals. Being sentient, they were able to look beyond simple biology and heredity and form clans of like minds and similar ideals. They formed bonds even outside their own species—some of them at least, not monsters like Gologlex.
“She is part of Carl’s clan.” That much there was no arguing against. “Maybe I can…” he had no idea what he was going to say to finish that sentence.
With a deep sigh, Rai Kub stood, robbing himself of the comfort of home and the old, straightforward thinking that he could rely on there. Strolling to the window, he placed one hand against the steely glass.
“Keesha Bell may be a criminal, but she is their friend. If we don’t look after our friends, what is the point in trying to be the good guys?”
Rai Kub took a mouthful of hay, forcing the rest of the treat into his mouth when two bites might have been more prudent. As he chewed the oversized morsel, he admitted to himself that the logic was strained.
But for now, he could understand. They had to help a friend.
# # #
The Mobius was stopped dead. As Amy watched with her hands ready on the flight yoke, the astral faded to black, and the stars ripped tiny holes in the Black Ocean. Just ahead, Champlain VI loomed in the forward window.
Amy punched the throttle, adjusting course for Keesha Bell’s sanctuary on the surface. An indicator on the comm warned that orbital traffic control was trying to contact them, but this wasn’t the time for a debate with the local authorities.
Carl hovered in the doorway to the cockpit. “Anyone here?”
The tactical readout was a mass of shipping traffic and intersystem transit. “Got one potential bogey. ENV Trajan. Corvette. Fast-response unit. On a task force with Earth Interstellar. Yeah, these must be our guys.”
Carl punched the ceiling panel. “Fuck. Can we beat them to the surface?”
“They’re not heading down,” Amy reported. “Stable orbit. Shit, that means they’ve sent down a drop ship.”
Carl slipped into the co-pilot’s chair and took custody of the comm panel. “Keesha? Keesha Bell, can you read me?”
Amy glanced over at the comm display. “Anything?”
“Still jammed.” Carl switched channels to something internal that Amy was too preoccupied to discern. “Yomin, can you find a way to punch through that interference?”
“Not my area of expertise,” came Yomin’s reply, seconds later. “This is a science problem, not data.”
Carl switched channels. “Shoni, any chance you can get a message through this jamming?”
“I apologize, captain,” Shoni replied in prim and proper tones. “We simply don’t have the sort of equipment to even begin development of such a technology, let alone the time and staff.”
“Fuck,” Carl grumbled to no one in particular.
The planet grew in the forward window. Amy checked the calculation to atmosphere. “Buckle up, sweetie,” she cautioned. “We’re going to hit atmo in twenty seconds. Last chance to change our minds.”
“Head for her compound,” Carl insisted. “No time to waste. If we have to take on Earth Interstellar at the front gate, so be it. Hopefully, that shield of hers is strong enough to keep the riffraff out.”
“The non-riffraff, you mean,” Amy added with a smile.
Carl leaned across and kissed her quickly. “Yeah. Exactly.”
They slammed into the atmosphere like a bullet hitting the water. Carl was already in the corridor and caught himself on the handle to Rai Kub’s quarters.
Amy turned her attention back to piloting once she was assured he hadn’t gotten hurt. He was off to rescue an old friend of an old friend. She couldn’t have been prouder of him.
# # #
The strike team gathered at the cargo ramp. A constant roar from outside the ship told of wind rushing over the hull.
Carl walked the line of his troops, ready to fight their way in to rescue Keesha Bell and take her away from the forces they inadvertently aimed in her direction.
“All right, people,” Carl announced as if he were addressing a squad of seventy-two rather than three. “This is a simple extraction mission. Keesha Bell lives in a shielded estate several kilometers outside the nearest settlement. There are only her and a couple servants living there; those are our targets, with a priority on Keesha herself.”
“Fuck the grunts. Get the girl,” Roddy summarized. “Got it.”
Esper cuffed the laaku in the shoulder, saving Carl the trouble of chastising him.
“We can’t get word to Keesha to let her know we’re there for a rescue, so we may have to fight our way past the competition.”
“The lawmen,” Rai Kub clarified.
Esper hung her head. “They won’t send soldiers or police after Keesha Bell, at least not alone.”
“Right,” Carl echoed. “Wizards. Be ready for your tech to go useless. Distracting fire only. We don’t need more blood on our hands here. This is a delay-and-depart mission. Sooner we get offworld, the better. Esper, we’re counting on you to make sure our tech can function long enough to hit orbit and get the fuck away from this place.”
“Understood,” Esper replied glumly.
“Hey,” Carl snapped. He strode over and was about to lift Esper’s chin to make her look him in the eye when suddenly he remembered she could break him in half. Ducking down, he looked up into her eyes. “This is no time for doubting, self-loathing, or reminiscing. Whatever’s going on in that pretty little noggin of yours, wrap it up quick. This isn’t a drill. People will be shooting at us.”
“Remind me again why this is our problem?” Roddy asked. “I mean, she was Mort’s friend, not really ours.”
Carl aimed a finger at Esper. “On file, she’s Esper’s teacher.”
“Lame,” the laaku crooned. “That was a sham and—again—a favor for Mort. Taking on Earth Interstellar, our reputation’s gone like good beer straight out the pisser.”
“Listen, buddy,” Carl said, not the least bit sarcastic in his use of the term. “Around here, if there’s a choice between doing the right thing and doing right by our friends, we go with our friends. Every. Time. Got it? All of you?”
“Yes, sir,” came the ragged chorus of replies.
# # #
The Mobius reached the surface but didn’t attempt a landing. Amy kept them half a kilometer up as they approached Keesha Bell’s estate.
Champlain VI was semi-arid, neither barren nor lush, with scattered herds of cattle grazing the scrublands. At least in the vicinity of the Bell Estate; Amy wasn’t interested in planetary ecology just then.
Parked at the front entrance of the compound was a pair of smaller starcraft—shuttles or dropships. The distinction was trivial at the moment. If she had to be honest with herself right then, Amy would have preferred to see marine landing craft than a comfortable, old-fashioned orbital cruise shuttle.
Wizards would never have allowed themselves to be packed like sardines into a troop transport.
Before the Mobius got too close, Amy
veered. No point getting within range of magic or any military-grade blasters the invading forces of law and justice might have brought along.
There was a new comm from a different ID. It was voice-only.
Gritting her teeth and cringing, Amy’s curiosity got the better of her. Without looking directly at the comm panel, she accepted the connection.
“Unauthorized vessel. You are interfering with official operations of Earth Interstellar Enhanced Investigative Org. Identify yourselves, power down, and make planetfall at the nearest starport.”
Options flashed through Amy’s mind, none of them involving compliance with Earth Interstellar’s orders.
Her first instinct was to Carl it up. She could get on the comm and talk the guy in circles until they were breaking orbit with Keesha Bell aboard. But that seemed like a tall order even for Carl, and Carl was playing soldier down in the cargo bay.
Another option was to open the comm, spout a cathartic string of Yiddish curses, then abruptly cut off the connection. At best, the officer on the other end might mistake it for a xeno language and assume there was a cultural misunderstanding at work. Unlikely, but screaming at the guy held a certain appeal.
Then Amy realized: there’s a frequency open.
Earth Interstellar was jamming a massive spectrum, but they had to open up the frequency they were using to hail the Mobius. Amy quickly changed tactics and tried to raise Keesha Bell on that same frequency.
“Keesha? Keesha Bell, can you hear me? Let us in, and we’ll get you out of here.”
“Unidentified vessel. Power down immediately. Surrender your ship, or you will be fired upon. You are hereby charged with interfering with an official operation, in accordance with ARGO Criminal Code section 231.66.1.1.5, subsection twelve.”
So much for slipping one past Earth Interstellar.
Carl’s plan called for her to set them down at the compound’s gate and to fight their way past whoever was there. Amy just couldn’t do it. It was suicide. Their best case was getting arrested at that point.
She needed to get a message through that interference and through that impenetrable energy shield that protected Keesha Bell’s compound.
Amy’s eyes snapped wide.
Messages didn’t have to be over the comm.
Switching the comm over to Yomin’s quarters, the words poured from Amy’s lips in a geyser. “Archie, are you there? Get to the turret immediately.”
“I can’t do anything—”
“GO!” Amy shouted. “I’ll explain while you strap in.”
The seconds passed like an eternity while Amy anticipated fire from the ENV Trajan any second.
“Reporting in,” Archie replied, then chuckled. “Always wanted to say that.”
“I need you to fire at that shield,” Amy spouted.
A weary sigh came through the turret comm. “You know I can’t harm anyone, even through conscious negligence.”
“You won’t,” Amy assured him. “That shield could take a reactor explosion. All I need is for you to knock on the door.”
“I don’t imagine that anyone’s going to open a shield when someone shoots it,” Archie replied petulantly.
“It’s not the shooting. It’s the pattern. Do you know Barclay Code?”
“No,” Archie replied.
“Morse?”
“No.”
“Letter-tap?”
“What in Merlin’s snarled beard is that?” Archie demanded. “Sounds like a librarian’s attempt at beer.”
“We need a message. Something Keesha and her people will understand. Download something from the omni if you have to.”
“Jamming is system-wide,” Archie reminded her. “No connection.”
“You’re a wizard!” Amy shouted. “She’s one of your people. You should know a message they’ll understand down there. Just do something.”
Amy continued evasive maneuvers, swooping around the shielded compound in unpredictable patterns.
“Hmm. I think I may have something…”
Amy waited, but Archie didn’t elaborate. Instead, the guns of the Mobius opened fire in an irregular staccato. Dah. Daddah-dah dah. Dah dah.
The cadence tickled the part of Amy’s brain that stored Carl’s schlocky old flatvids like a teenager’s closet. Dah. Daddah-dah dah. Dah dah.
Amy mouthed it aloud. “Shave and a haircut. Two bits.”
The shields dropped. Amy ducked the Mobius inside. Just as they cleared, the shields sprang back up just in time for the sky to redden. A massive blast of plasma dissipated just overhead.
They were inside.
# # #
The cargo bay door was halfway open before the Mobius ever touched down. Carl rode the ramp as it descended the rest of the way and led the charge across the short stretch of manicured lawn that separated their landing site from the rear terrace of Keesha Bell’s palatial home.
Amy had dropped them off around the rear of the building, providing cover from oncoming fire in case ground forces breached the gates while they were still on the ground.
Overhead, the sky was a shimmering blue. Not that the sky was ever that particular shade, but the day could have been overcast or night in full dominion and the crisp, crackling color of the energy shield would have shown clear.
Carl tried not to trip as he admired the view.
Taking the short flight of marble steps two at a time, Carl reached the terrace first. There to greet him, blaster rifle at odds with his tuxedo, was Keesha Bell’s butler, Hobson.
The butler held the weapon in both hands, angled downward and finger near the trigger but not on it. It was the same way Tanny carried one between firefights. “Good of you to come, Captain Ramsey. Ms. Bell is in the parlor.”
Carl followed Hobson as the butler headed inside. Roddy, Rai Kub, and Esper fell in behind.
What an assault force they looked like. Carl was an old fighter jockey, out of shape and carrying a blaster pistol better suited to a back-alley mugging than a combat operation. And yet, he looked the most military of the bunch.
Roddy had a proper blaster, but it was a lightweight model trimmed down for laaku use. Plus, few people took laaku seriously as soldiers.
Rai Kub carried the largest stun weapon Carl had ever seen, adapted from a police anti-riot atmospheric assault craft. Without knowing it was only set for stun, it should have made him look like one hell of a badass. But the stuunji carried it away from his body in both hands, pinched between thumbs and forefingers as if it were contaminated.
Esper strode confidently along, but dressed in a pink hooded sweatshirt, she looked like a university student on holiday break more than a wizard.
Carl tried to get a word in edgewise, but the butler was in full bustle mode.
“The front gate fell two minutes ago,” Hobson reported. “Proximity sensors are tracking the invading force. We don’t have long.”
“Split up,” Carl ordered. “Search the house. Round up all the servants and get them to the Mobius.” To Hobson, he asked. “You and Keesha on board with an unplanned vacation?”
“Ms. Bell detests travel,” Hobson replied. “But given the circumstances, I believe it best if we convince her.”
They found Keesha missing from the parlor but tracked her down in the exhibit hall. She was levitating pieces of artwork onto a wheeled hover-cart.
“Keesha, what are you doing?” Carl demanded, lowering his blaster pistol to his side. “We’ve got to get out of this place.”
Keesha snorted and continued the lyric Carl had begun. “If it’s the last thing we ever do. Your father taught me that one, years ago. But I spent a lifetime gathering this collection. I can’t let it all fall into the hands of those Philistines.”
“It’s not the Philistines I’m worried about,” Carl snapped. “It’s Earth Interstellar and whatever wizards they rounded up for this posse. You’re not a low-value target to get picked up by Billy-club Benny and the jaywalking police. Take what you can carry and still r
un, and let’s MOVE!”
Keesha Bell snapped her fingers and pointed to the wheel-cart. “Hobson, bring this along.”
Dutifully, the butler slung his rifle over one shoulder and grabbed the cart’s push bar. The wheels turned, but the cart barely budged. Small surprise since it was piled with a grand piano, two suits of armor, a sarcophagus that looked like it might be solid gold, and more bric-a-brac than Carl had seen in one place since they cleaned the conference room.
“Quit dawdling,” Keesha ordered. She fluttered her fingers at the cart. “Make it do its lifty thing.”
God. He’d forgotten how much a wizard she was. Keesha wasn’t as far gone as Mort, but she wasn’t far off.
“Ma’am, you’ve disoriented the cart’s repulsors. It cannot levitate.”
Carl had put up with just about enough of this. “Rai Kub!”
Fortunately, the stuunji was close by. He poked his head into the exhibit hall room and couldn’t help gawking at the array of wonders. The place was probably worth more than New Garrelon, prior to them acquiring a corporate custom warship for protection.
“Yes, captain?” Rai Kub asked, remembering himself. “What do you—?”
“Get over here and move this cart. Bring it to the ship,” Carl ordered.
The stuunji bounded over, shaking the room with each step.
“Oh… oh…” Keesha squealed. “I know this one. He’s a… a stuunji! How marvelous. Will he be traveling with us?”
“Ma’am,” Hobson droned wearily. “Allow me to lead the way to the waiting starship. Time grows perilously short.”
“Keesha Bell, where is your mind these days?” the wizard asked herself. “Of course. Time for pleasantries while I’m on the run for the rest of my life. Stuunji, please have a care with those priceless works of art. I fear I’ll need to be selling them off to fund this adventure.”
A chorus of footsteps thundered toward the exhibit hall.
Carl took cover behind an authentic 1850s London carriage with replica horse and tack. Hobson ducked behind an ornate chest that looked suspiciously like the Ark of the Covenant but probably wasn’t.
The lead officer from Earth Interstellar burst into the room. By the rank insignia on his shoulder, he was a lieutenant. “Keesha Bell. You are under arrest. Come quietly, or we will be forced to—”