by Scott Rhine
Max asked, “What about the whole melting thing?”
“The surface deformed but shows no loss of mass. I was also right about another thing. Smaller is faster.”
Roz shut off her comm for several minutes. “The head of the academy just commissioned eight more hoppers to travel to the nearest Magi systems. Each one will contain the revised Enigma equation and plans on how to construct more.”
“Within a couple months, everyone in the realm will have the Shiraz Ellison equation,” Max said. “I’m happy for you.”
“That’ll only work if the mirror does its job. Otherwise, we’re lobbing boulders no one will be able to understand.”
“Bertha will prove you right,” Max replied.
“I hope so. The academy is adding experiments. The head shipwright wants to give her a nudge forward at highway speeds to see if it loses any energy during the hop. I never factored this in. The Aloquoits also asked to send several types of clocks through to see if any slowdown could be detected during the jump.”
“Congratulations,” Max said. “You’ve won more factions over to your side. They want to play in your sandbox with the cool kids.”
The buildup of the final bubble took longer than the others. “Bertha’s taking more power than we expected. Must be all those clocks. There. Gone at one hundred fifty percent!”
They could hear frantic chatter at the control center. “Destination observers report no visible twisting or loss of momentum. It’s traveling the same speed and direction as before, although mass has increased by ninety kilos. How? Oh, shit. Bertha appeared too close to Cedric. They’re going to hit!”
Max said, “Oops. Well, all your formulas were correct. They’re still going to let you give your speech.”
“Spectral analysis has returned on the composition. The extra matter is organic.”
“Something living followed it out of the subbasement?” Max wondered.
“Double-checking. Something stowed away on the launch side. That’s why the jump calculations had to be tweaked. More mass. Oh, no. Security reports that Imolan Aloquoit is missing.”
Kesh said, “He wanted to steal your thunder and save face for his faction by being the first sentient to make the leap. Maybe he’s planning to lie about the subjective passage of time inside to make you look bad.”
“The access tube was crushed. He’s dead. This is terrible.”
Max said, “Yeah. We might not be able to tell whether the crash or the jump killed him. This could delay the Glory Point mission.”
“No. It was my idea to send three hoppers. I okayed the addition of velocity and didn’t recheck the mass before blindly pumping up the power. My reckless behavior lost a great scientist his life.”
“Your recklessness. What about his idiocy?”
“His followers are saying he did this as a leap of faith in my design.”
Kesh sighed. “Regardless of his true motives, you need to change your speech to start with a eulogy and a disclaimer. You didn’t know about or expect this gesture.”
“Won’t that sound like blaming the victim?”
“No. You need to get out in front of this before opinions form.”
“What do I say?” she asked.
“Before the academy has a chance to rule, set your own restrictions. Until the incident has been investigated, come out against any sentient transport other than the crew of the mapping vessel.”
“What mapping vessel?”
“Us,” Kesh replied. “At each stop, we’ll send them rest of the realm the constants they need. We should only allow experiments using a multispecies crew that’s already been exposed to the subbasement, and the crew will be under constant medical study.”
“You want me to use this tragedy as an opportunity to shove my own agenda through?”
“That would be pragmatic. Otherwise, your greatest supporter will have given his life for nothing.”
“You belong in politics,” Roz said in an odd tone.
People were hard to read without seeing faces for cues, so Kesh replied, “You’re welcome.”
24. Deep 7
Rebuilding the prototype ship based on the revised equations and modern standards would take months. Every bolt had to be triple-checked. Before Roz left again, Kesh met her at the airlock, where Reuben wouldn’t overhear. “I’ve listened to the prerecorded message the Magi want to broadcast to the fleet before we fire on them. You can’t be serious about playing it. You’ll blow the sneak attack.”
She shrugged. “No choice. Union rules.”
“You saw what happened when we faced off against three Blue Claw merchant ships,” Kesh whispered. “We had two shuttles and Deep 6 plus the element of surprise, and they almost didn’t back down. Do your hyperadvanced friends have any concept of Phib psychology? Do you know what will happen when one ship, no matter how advanced, demands the surrender of twenty war vessels? They’ll all open fire at once.”
“Preaching to the choir. What do you expect me to do?”
“Use the delay to fill our cargo holds with hopper drones.”
“They won’t condone missiles,” she insisted.
“I’m not asking for that,” he replied. “Tell them there’s a chance we can fool the fleet into surrender if it looks like we have more ships than they do.”
“It’s still threatening a sentient life.”
“Thrashing right it’s a threat!” Transparent robots interposed themselves between Kesh and Roz. He held up his hands in surrender and lowered his voice. “That’s the only thing those soldiers are going to respect.”
“My hands are tied.”
Kesh wanted to scream and kick the wall, but they’d put him in restraints if he did. “What about a dozen hoppers as decoys? The Magi shuttle will be less of a target if other transponders are popping in and out. Only two sets of ship guns will be trained on each target. Give us a fighting chance. Appeal to their frilling sense of caution.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised.
“What can you affect?”
“Every time I fly to the ship, I can take a load of equipment on the shuttle. That favor comes with a price, though.”
“Name it.”
“All of us have to wear body cameras during combat to make certain no one violates Union rules.”
He considered his plan to die gloriously. “I can work with that.”
****
Time passed slowly for the idle crew during construction. When he wasn’t designing decoy defensive patterns, Kesh broke out his game tiles, the Saurian equivalent of cards. He taught the recent additions how to play a strategy game called “Dominion,” where the tiles were stacked into piles known as “power bases.” Officially, the fine-manipulation was recommended as physical therapy for his bad hand.
During the eighth week, the four men were playing in the common room. Max had built a still out of boredom. When he turned to pour himself another drink, Menelaus caught Reuben redistributing chips.
Reuben tried to offer him a stack.
“I don’t want that. It’s cheating,” the Bat complained.
Kesh held a leg bone in his mouth like a cigar. “It’s expected—as long as you don’t get caught. He offered you half his take. If you refuse, you have the right to smack him as hard as you can.”
“That’s twisted.”
Max sipped vodka. “Saurian rules. It’s the cornerstone of their business model.”
“But nobody else does it, right?”
Max coughed after inhaling part of his drink while laughing.
Roz walked into the common area. “Everybody does.”
“Not you?” Menelaus said in shock.
She tried to look innocent. “Maybe Kesh can give you some of your money back.”
“Hell, no,” Kesh replied. “That money is tuition. He learned a valuable lesson about his enemies.”
“You’re supposed to be his friend,” Roz said, ever the peacemaker.
“As a friend, I’
m preparing him. You won’t let me force him to hunt his own food. How else can I train the guy?”
Upset, Menelaus stormed out of the room.
Roz watched him vanish around a corner. “Shouldn’t one of you guys go after him?”
Max waved a hand dismissing her. “He’ll be back. The tension’s hard on everyone. We’ve already passed our original deadline. Every day, we worry we won’t reach the rendezvous point in time.”
“We’ll travel much faster now,” Roz insisted. “We have plenty of time. Even if we’re able to leave today, we don’t know which candidate spot is Glory Point.”
More routes had been eliminated, leaving only three possible paths.
“Don’t rub it in,” Kesh complained, scooping up the tiles for a shuffle. “You smell nervous. Maybe you should sit down and play a few hands to unwind.”
She took the offered chair, turning it backwards to sit with the back against her chest. She wrapped her arms around the frame. “I suppose.”
“What’s up?” her husband asked.
“The drive systems have been completed. We’re making a test run of the rebuilt ship today.”
“Fantastic!” Max said, giving her a fist bump. The others had requested they limit public displays of affection. Kesh couldn’t stand the scent in close quarters, and Reuben would gaze longingly at Daisy. So they refrained out of consideration. “What time? Do we get to watch through the observation dome?”
“In an hour, and so. We’ll all find out together.”
From increased blood flow to her cheeks, Kesh sensed that she wasn’t being completely honest about something. “We’ll wait together. Drink? I mixed grasshoppers today.”
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I want to be on top of my game in case they need me for an emergency. Wouldn’t do to have a drunken saint.”
Kesh raised his green cocktail while the other men toasted with homemade vodka in mason jars. “To Deep 6.”
“Actually,” she admitted, “the shipyard doesn’t know Human slang, so they’ve renamed her Deep 7.”
Only Reuben seemed disturbed. “There was never a Deep 1 through 5.”
“Let it go,” ordered Max. “Their people are giving us the latest and greatest toys for every ship’s subsystem, including power crystals. They can name it anything they like. Echo pointed out there were seven owners in Far Traveler Unlimited.”
Reuben sulked. “It ruins the joke.”
“What’s taking so long?” Kesh demanded.
“This is next-gen rocket science,” Roz said with a patient smile. “We’ve refined the fuel-consumption calculations. Turns out we used way more energy that needed for our last hop. I think that caused the deformation. Just to be sure, the academy is adding another layer of safety.”
Kesh held the sides of his head and squawked in frustration.
Roz held up a hand. “I told you about the new pilot’s cradle.” She showed them a picture on her pad.
“Looks like a coffin,” complained Reuben.
“Made of glass bricks,” replied Max. “This is something out of a fairy tale. I guess that makes you a princess.”
She blushed. “It filters more of the radiation we might encounter and can transition into a stasis pod in an emergency. It has its own air supply and internal holo controls.”
Uninvited, Daisy appeared in the room, craning for a look at the schematics. Roz shut the pad off quickly. Daisy asked, “Could a standard ship benefit from a cockpit like this?”
“I wasn’t supposed to share that with you. Please don’t ask me any questions about it.”
“Why not?” Daisy asked. “This is history!”
“We’re afraid the Llewellyn Corporation will take anything you see here and adapt it for Human military purposes.”
“So?”
“Your development of sneak suits ruffled a lot of feathers, as did your invasion plans for the Magi realm.”
“My plans?” Daisy said, offended. “I’m a member of this crew. I haven’t planned anything.”
Roz’s tablet chimed, and she left the room rather than argue. She might let any number of secrets slip in anger.
Daisy was speechless.
“It’s not just you,” Kesh said. “She’s not allowed to trust any of the lesser races.”
Somehow, the blonde found solace in Reuben’s arms. When the conversation subtly drifted to things he might have noticed about Magi technology during their visit, he was clueless. He didn’t know anything other than the equations he had checked for Roz earlier.
Curious about the message Roz had received, Kesh cleared his throat. “I need to visit the facilities. Don’t try anything funny while I’m gone. I’ve counted every chip.”
He managed to track her easily. “What’s the news?”
“They powered up all the ship’s systems, but it wouldn’t stay submerged. It popped right back to normal space.”
“Not a total loss,” Kesh mused. “How long will this take?”
“Maybe another twenty-eight days.” An enigmatic smile drifted across her face.
“You seem awfully chipper. Was this failure really an accident?”
“What? Of course.”
He raised an eye ridge.
Lowering her voice, she said, “I’m not actively sabotaging the test.”
“But you could solve their problem easily.”
“Maybe I want one more try with both my mates now that the fertility treatments have been fine-tuned.”
“You’d risk everything for a baby?”
“Don’t worry. We’re faster now, and refueling stops have been scheduled to improve flow. I know what I’m doing.”
Kesh ground his teeth. His legacy was in the hands of a female supercharged with hormones, but he knew better than to express these doubts. Let Max step in that minefield.
25. The Race
Once a week, Kesh waited until after midnight when all the others were asleep. He picked the fattest meal mammal and carried its cage to the entry airlock. It would be slow, giving him a chance to practice his stealth. Then, he set the long-tailed snack loose in the maze of hallways. It wasn’t the best hunt, but it was food with a pulse. He imagined the Saurians in the armada had to subsist on pastelike combat rations.
He tracked his snack to a tree in the green-space playground. He was centimeters away from his prize when a screech like an air-wrench ripped through the halls. The dumb prey bolted. Resigned, Kesh gave chase. He held back just a little to give the fear chemicals time to marinate the meat. To even the odds, the heavy belt full of grenades and expedition pack slowed him down.
Unfortunately, the tiny creature had as much difficulty as he did skittering around corners on the slick, sterile tiles. It slid sideways and slammed into an open electrical panel. Its back snapped, paralyzing the creature.
Reuben had removed the panel with his infamous wall-knife and was attempting to bypass security. Daisy stood next to him in a sheer nightgown that accentuated her mammaries.
“Oh, the poor thing,” she said.
Kesh scooped up the mammal and put it out of its misery.
She covered her face. “You’re so gross.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re so underhanded. Trying to break into Roz’s suite?”
“She’s not even here,” Reuben countered.
“All the better to spy.”
Reuben held up both hands. “Roz has the biggest wall screen in the place. Ours shuts off after nine due to the children’s curfew. We just wanted to snuggle on her sofa while watching a movie.”
“Uh-huh.” Kesh stared at the blonde. He knew exactly who put the Goat up to this. Reuben never asked to snuggle. The Llewellyn Company wanted to peek at whatever Magi secrets Roz might have left lying around. “I’m sure Max could’ve opened it for you.” The doctor had his own room, not much bigger than the other “lesser races.” Although a child’s room, it had a connecting door to Roz’s bedchamber.
“He’s been drinking too much s
ince Roz went back to the testing grounds.”
Kesh gestured toward the conference room. “My screen is pretty big.”
Daisy feigned a smile. “We couldn’t disturb you.”
“I’m awake now.”
“Okay,” Reuben said, cheerfully putting away his burglary gear. “I brought the popcorn.”
He searched for a polite way to say, “I’d sooner eat Styrofoam.” He settled on, “Thanks. I brought my own food.”
“I’m not going to sit in the same room while he devours that poor creature.” Daisy casually planted a bug on the back of the wall panel as she reassembled it. Kesh could see the residual heat from her fingers on the strip of tape.
“On your world, meat magically appears in the supermarket.” He could’ve made an issue of the bug but decided the device wouldn’t pick up anything of interest with all the insulation. Roz’s quarters were designed to withstand a hull breach from hostile forces. Instead, he donned gloves and opened a piece of plastic sheeting. The Magi didn’t like him getting bloodstains on the floor.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he said a prayer of thanksgiving for his prey.
He demonstrated by gutting his kill and eating the heart raw.
She retched theatrically.
No kissing her tonight.
She asked, “How could you?”
In reply, he sucked down the liver, too. “Like this.” While he removed the skin, he wondered where other bugs might be hidden in his conference room. “If I ever stop hunting my own food, you have my permission to euthanize me.”
Reuben defended his friend. “Come on, babe. The hunt is part of his natural digestive process, like the way a dog has to go on a walk each day.”
Vowing to answer the next question with a “Woof,” Kesh divided the offal from the meat with practiced skill, placing them each in separate bags. As he cleaned up the waste, he found a small RFID tag the size of a grain of rice.
“Fur and bones,” he cursed. Either this was a runaway pet or the Goat he’d paid for wild game had robbed a vet clinic out of laziness. No wonder his prey had been so fat. He couldn’t let the girl find that out, or he’d never hear the end of it.