Mission Pack 3: Missions 9-12 (Black Ocean Mission Pack)

by J. S. Morin

  As Mort was about to knock on the door, he heard noises from within. He waited. Eventually the rhythmic grunting and gasping had to end, and Mort wanted nothing more than to pretend it wasn’t happening. Through a seldom-used trick, he created yet another realm within Mortania nestled within the mind of his mentally projected self.

  While time in Mortania passed glacially, compounding it via a further factor within Lesser Mortania made it nigh impossible to tell how long he had waited for his grandparents to make themselves presentable for receiving company. Nebuchadnezzar’s hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

  “What’s the bother, you coming all the way out here again?” Nebuchadnezzar asked, squinting at Mort. “Death in the family or something?”

  “Not that I know of,” Mort replied, stepping past Nebuchadnezzar into the sitting room of the cottage. “But I’m the last one to know those sorts of things.”

  “Spit it out then, boy. I’ve got an evening planned tonight. Rowing on the pond and everything.”

  Conjuring a tea setting for two, Mort delved into the conundrum that was Archimedes Antonopoulos. It was sad when a wizard lost the capacity to influence the world around him. Sometimes age and senility conspired to rob a wizard of his authority in the eyes of the universe. Other wizards caught themselves up in logical traps that robbed them of credibility.

  “That’s where I can’t quite put my finger on what the problem is,” Mort said as he wound down his explanation. “Most wizards who lose their magic are caught outside the two worlds. Charity cases. It’s never pleasant, but I see how it is for the poor blighters. This Archie fellow… seems to have turned to science for solace. I don’t know whether to applaud the gumption or quietly put the chap out of his misery.”

  “Well, does he seem miserable?” Nebuchadnezzar asked. He raised his eyebrows as he sipped from his teacup.

  “Blast me if I could even tell. How do you get the measure of a man whose personality is couched behind eyes like little flatvids? Every mannerism. Every twitch and tic. It’s all probably programmed into him or copied over or what-have-you.”

  “Why work yourself into a bother over him? I’d say he’s dead and buried, except his coffin is a walking computer. If you’re concerned about talking to the dead—”

  Mort raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine. If you’re worried about talking to walking dead people, either ignore him or pretend he wasn’t ever a wizard. Maybe… think of him as a fellow with an unfortunate skin condition.”

  “A steel rash?”

  “Well, it’s that or kill him. Then again, if you could suck his brain out of that computer, I wouldn’t mind the company. Any idea whether he plays pinochle? Or, better yet, we could put in a bowling alley! Maybe start a league.” Nebuchadnezzar sprang to his feet and began pacing, sipping maniacally at his tea. “No. I see it now… we send you around finding a gaggle of aging wizards who long for their glory days. You collect their brains, and I’ll imagine up some shirts with team emblems.”

  This wasn’t going as Mort had planned. He recalled there had been reasons why he visited Nebuchadnezzar so infrequently. “If you just want sentient bowling opponents, maybe I can do something with the denizens.”

  “Oh, leave off with those sad-sack killers you’ve squirreled away. Bad enough keeping them around in the first place, poor bastards. But don’t make them straw dummies for me to knock around the lanes. I expect some real competition, not just whoever you’ve got lying around your brain.”

  “Lemme ask you this,” Mort said, ignoring for the time being that his grandfather’s idea was beginning to grow on him. “If you had the choice between getting stuck in here and roaming the real world again in a nigh-immortal body with the strength of ten men, which would you choose?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope. Honest answer. Which would it be?”

  “Good Lord, Mordecai. I’m thousands of years old thanks to the wonky timeline in this place. I bend reality to my whim, and there’s no one but you to tell me what I can and can’t do. Quite frankly, when you’re not around, I’m like a retired godling. What in Beelzebub’s sock drawer can a robot body offer me that this place can’t?”

  “Friends? Challenges? Unpredictability?”

  “Overrated. Those of us with the imagination have no need for succor or chaos in our lives. You want my advice? Ask that Archimedes fellow his shoe size and put him on my bowling team.”

  # # #

  Esper was Step 3. She hadn’t wanted to be step anything. Nice, quiet life aboard the Mobius (such as it was) appealed to her. Occasional missions were fine. But it had come down to a choice of her or Mort for the infiltration portion of the mission, and he was just too well known. Esper, despite being on the Harmony Bay scanners during the “Adam incident,” was so different from the woman she’d once been that she was the choice for assignment to the Bradbury.

  Deep down inside, where the naughty, selfish little voice lived, she wished that Yomin would have run into some insurmountable obstacle. Maybe Harmony Bay’s security was so good that even from the inside it was unbreakable. Maybe they decided that being one wizard short wasn’t worth the hassle of finding a replacement way out in the EADZ. Frankly, it was a little demoralizing to be done in by one of the Mobius crew being too good at her job for once.

  “We’ll be setting down in the hangar in just a minute, Wizard Theresa,” the pilot announced over the shuttle’s internal comm. Esper nodded, wondering if there was even a camera watching her to notice. For this trip, she was Theresa Bell, adopted daughter and apprentice to Keesha Bell. As a hermit of sorts and an outsider among the Convocation’s elite, her existence and anonymity were both plausible. She knew Keesha just well enough to fill in a few details of her personal life if asked. And in the One Church, Esper had gotten accustomed to going by her baptismal name.

  As the Harmony Bay shuttle touched down, Esper lifted her luggage with a gesture. The lights in the passenger compartment barely dimmed. She allowed herself a tight smile. Hopefully someone was paying enough attention to be impressed.

  The hangar interior was a gleaming white and clean as everything else she’d seen from Harmony Bay in her limited up-close dealings with them. Two crewmen in pale gray uniforms met her as she descended to the deck.

  “Welcome aboard, Wizard Theresa,” one of them said with a professional nod. He and his partner were both shaped from the same cookie cutter. Trim, clean cut, square jawed, and lacking in anything that could be interpreted as personality. In fairness, they might have been more intriguing off duty, but she wasn’t here for off-duty socializing.

  The third member of the group wore a loose black ensemble with baggy sleeves. She greeted Esper with a bow. “I am Wizard Emma. If you would come with—are you levitating those suitcases?”

  Esper shrugged. “Of course. Do you expect me to carry all my things?” Mort had given her a crash course in wizardly entitlement and general disdain for regulations that smacked of busywork rather than real purpose. It had taken a conscious act of restraint not to apologize to Emma.

  “No magic on board without prior authorization from Wizard Bellamy!”

  Esper rolled her eyes and allowed the bags to drift to a halt on the floor. “It’s not like this is an escape pod. There’s plenty of room for a little magic in between the important gewgaws.” Dipping a toe into Mort’s vocabulary might prove fun, if she could keep a straight face using words like “gewgaws.”

  Emma snapped her fingers. “Bring Wizard Theresa’s things.” The two crewmen hustled over to obey as if Emma had used magic on them. But there was no way a simple star-drive wizard had snuck anything that blatant past Esper’s notice.

  Good Lord. What was she turning into? Mort’s casual snobbery was longstanding and well earned. Most of the star-drive profession wouldn’t be able to tie their shoes under Mort’s glare. For the mission, it was fine impersonating that sort of offhanded bias. But she was dismayed to find it come so easily. Emma
really wasn’t the sort of wizard Esper needed to worry about.

  Wizard Emma led the way through the corridors of the Bradbury. People got out of their way, and it seemed less to do with the oversized luggage than the owner of it. Eventually they reached a lift, and Esper tucked her hands inside opposing sleeves as she waited to for it to move them.

  When had this happened? Certainly not during her time in Mortania, when she’d spent half her time playing fairy princess and most of her gowns were sleeveless. And not in Esperville, either. There, she didn’t have anyone around to worry about the errant use of magic. But somewhere, presumably in the real world, Esper had become a wizard down to her bones.

  A few twists and turns were all it took to bring her to her new quarters. Emma tapped a button beside the door, and it slid into the wall with a swoosh. Esper made a show of watching it disappear into the adjoining wall, as if she had never seen it done before. “Will it make a new one, or does someone have to come by to nail up a new door?” she asked.

  With a set to her jaw, Wizard Emma took pains to explain in childlike detail exactly how everything in the room worked, from the door controls to the toilet. “This room is warded and shielded against many common magics. However, per Wizard Bellamy’s standing orders, there is to be no magic used aboard the Bradbury without prior authorization. Understood?”

  “Yes, yes. I heard you the first time. Your poor servants’ backs would be happier if I hadn’t, but I heard you.” She shooed Emma away with a flick of her fingers.

  Unfortunately, the woman still appeared to have duties to discharge. “Should you wish to leave these quarters, you are welcome to explore anywhere on the ship. Anywhere you are not authorized will require special access scans, so you don’t need to worry about wandering where you don’t belong.”

  Esper raised a finger, intent on posing a question.

  “And no, you can’t bypass them with magic. That would be a violation of standing orders not to use magic anywhere aboard the Bradbury.”

  “How will I find my way back here in this anthill of science and technology? I rather fancy a meal, and my next trip will be to the best restaurant that takes Convocation credit.”

  Emma let out a slow breath and unclenched her jaw muscles. “There are no restaurants on the Bradbury. We take our meals in the dining hall. You can bring food back to your room if you prefer the solitude. There is no charge for any of your accommodations.”

  “Really? What if I wanted to upgrade to something a little larger, maybe with an ocean view? I’d be willing to put that on the Convocation’s credit.” Esper was gaining far too much amusement in tormenting the poor star-drive girl, but she needed to build her reputation into something solid as diamond.

  “These are your quarters. They are the best you’re going to get. And there is no ocean view unless we’re orbiting a planet with liquid water. Good day.” Before Esper could mount a new barrage of annoying questions, Wizard Emma took her leave. Just as well, since Esper wasn’t naturally inane and was running out of ideas.

  The quarters were palatial by Mobius standards. She had her own living room, which was where the crewmen had left her belongings. It had two couches and a reading chair, with a holo-projector at the center of the room. There was a kitchen area that seemed focused primarily on social beverages. Her bedroom was appointed in Old Earth style, with a four-poster bed and a quilt that looked handmade. Upon closer inspection, she wondered if the bedclothes were all of traditional make and began to realize how much Mort had really given up by his exile from the Convocation. She was just a junior starship wizard, after all. He was a council member.

  Esper was inspecting the amenities in the washroom, including a soaking tub, when the door chime sounded. Resisting the urge to affect her in-persona haughtiness, she rushed over to answer it.

  Yomin stepped inside and hit the door controls immediately. “There’s no surveillance in here. We can talk freely.” She was dressed in a tailor-fit uniform the same wood smoke gray of the regular crewmembers. Her nameplate identified her at Y. Dranoel.

  Esper scowled. “You’re using your real name? I don’t remember that in the plan. And isn’t it a little suspicious, you being here? I mean, we’re not supposed to know each other.”

  “It’s all under control. My real name had the credentials to get in here, and I don’t think anyone’s going to be suspicious of me being in your room. At least, not the way you think.”

  “The way I think…?” Esper echoed. She was beginning to feel the sort of perplexity that she’d feigned for Wizard Emma’s sake.

  Yomin grinned and flopped down onto one of the couches. “I’ve been here more than two weeks now. And in that time, I’ve flirted with just about every woman crewman I’ve come across, from scientists to quartermasters to that star-drive mechanic who showed you around. No one’s going to think I knew you before you got here. They’re just going to think I heard about the gorgeous new wizard who just came aboard.”

  “So… that’s our cover for meeting?”

  “In a little while, I’ll grab some dinner for two and bring it back here. I’ll get you up to speed on the situation on the Bradbury, and you will fill me in on the progress everyone on the Mobius has been making.”

  Esper nodded. “Everyone assumes we’re having a tryst, and that covers up our time spent together. Clever.”

  Yomin patted the cushion beside her. “Of course, what happens in here and what anyone believes happens in here don’t have to match. Everyone on the Bradbury’s going to assume we’re lovers. Everyone on the Mobius will assume it’s just our cover story. But really, just between us girls, who’s to say what really happens?”

  Esper knew she was blushing. The whole room had gone up ten degrees while Yomin’s insinuation sank in. “You enjoy toying with people, don’t you? It’s like hacking.”

  “Maybe…” Yomin slipped off her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the couch. She stretched out fully with her arms overhead and arched her back. “Or maybe I’ve been stressing out for two weeks and could use a little relaxing.”

  “I brought the fake nanites,” Esper said, crossing her arms and fixing Yomin with a priestess glare.

  Yomin rolled onto her stomach and pushed up to her elbows. “How do they look?” She kicked her feet playfully.

  “Like an empty specimen vial. If they were big enough to see, no one would believe them, right? Anyway, Shoni seemed happy with them, and she’s a real scientist.”

  “Well, we’re not ready for them yet. For the time being, they’re as safe here as anywhere.” Yomin rolled to a seated position and stood. “But I’m starving. I’ll head to the mess hall and grab us some grub.”

  Esper called after her before Yomin reached the door. “You forgot your shoes.”

  Smirking over her shoulder, Yomin untucked her uniform shirt. “Someone around here’s gotta play the part. Food processors here can make us anything. I’m thinking oysters sound good.” Yomin slipped through the door in her stocking feet before the implication sank in with Esper.

  # # #

  The Bradbury imitated a naval vessel in more ways than one. But the armaments and the deep-drop star-drive never brought Captain Yasmira Dominguez the sheer joy of the panoramic forward-facing viewport.

  She stood gazing out at the starfield with her hands clasped behind her back. There were no two points in the galaxy that painted quite the same vista. Once in a great while she could pick up on elements of a familiar constellation and estimate by eyeball where they were in the grand scheme. Mostly, she appreciated it on a more aesthetic level. “Helmsman, prepare for astral drop. Lay in a course for Seres Minor that keeps us at least two light-years off the standard transit lanes.”

  It was time to depart for their next unsavory rendezvous. At least stopping to take on new crew was a reputable activity, even if it was only a new wizard to replace Hans Ketterlane. Their next stop had them meeting with a broker in human biological samples that had been exposed to berytatti
c radiation. She had never asked how the samples had been exposed, or whether the previous owners had been alive at the time. Someone down in Irradiative Sciences probably knew, but the less Captain Dominguez knew about the meat in her ship’s sausage, the better she slept at night. Besides, all she would ever learn would be the gory details and the fanciful goal of the research. The hows and whats were always complete wizardish to her.

  As if summoned by her passing thought, the bridge klaxon sounded its stutter-step warning that a wizard was intruding on the Bradbury’s command center.

  With a heel turn, she faced the door as Wizard Bellamy stormed through.

  “What’s this about a new wizard?” he demanded. Nearly two meters tall with the build of an antimatter torpedo, Bellamy caused the bridge crew to pay diligent attention to their workstations. His face was flushed with indignant rage. Though his beard was fit to hide a flock of geese, it wasn’t thick enough to muffle the wizard’s tirade. “I put in for Brody Larson. I even gave Mitch Malcolm’s name as an alternate in case Brody wanted to stick to that cushy aviary job on Mars. What’s this about some backwater apprentice getting sent out instead?”

  Captain Dominguez remained impassive as Bellamy ran himself out of breath. “You put in for a replacement for Wizard Hans. The Convocation sent you a replacement. That you didn’t get one of your cherry-picked candidates is not my concern. Take it up with Boston Prime.”

  “Bunch of pompous old codgers. This is your ship, Yasmira. Put her off at the nearest shuttle stop. I’d rather go without an assistant than train some pipe-smoker.” As Bellamy came within arm’s reach, Captain Dominguez smelled the stink of sweat on him. He must have jogged most of the way to the bridge.

  “She comes highly recommended, and due to her lack of seniority she’s costing us far less than Wizards Brody or Mitch would have.”