by Chris Fox
“If you take my advice,” Speidel said, “you won’t be here for much longer.” The captain’s comm button chirped. He checked the message. “Looks like my dinner will have to wait. Think over what I said, Carina. It might be time for a change.”
As the captain turned to go back the way he’d come, Carina thought she saw a look in his eye that indicated he knew more than he was saying. She felt sick. Had the captain’s friendly advice been a cover for a deeper warning? Had he guessed her secret, and did he think that others were also drawing closer to the truth about what had really happened in the embassy fight?
Perhaps it was indeed time for her to move on.
4
None of Carina’s bunk mates had returned to the shared cabin, so she took advantage of the rare moment of solitude to meditate. Nai Nai had taught her the habit, telling her that it preserved and strengthened one’s powers.
The old woman had said that though mage abilities were genetically inherited, it wasn’t a fixed thing like hair or eye color. Casting was also a skill that had to be learned, refined, and maintained, and she’d explained that if Carina didn’t regularly perform mental exercises, her ability would lessen and perhaps fail. What was more, if she did lose her ability, there was no guarantee that it would ever return once she was an adult, no matter how hard she worked.
Sitting in her top bunk, Carina crossed her legs and faced the wall. The steps to achieve a trance state were always the same. She mentally recited and embraced the concepts of the five Elements: wood, fire, earth, metal, water. Following the Elements were the Seasons: spring, early summer, late summer, autumn, winter. This second part of the pre-trance task was not so familiar to Carina. Though she’d visited many worlds while working with the merc band, she’d never encountered a place where the climate followed the pattern laid out by Nai Nai with its types of weather, variations in temperature, and fluctuation of daylight hours.
Next, she mentally drew the Strokes. Each line had to be drawn perfectly, each taper and flourish correct. She drew them separately and then together in the ideogram that meant forever. Finally, she conjured up the Map in her mind. Nai Nai had made her draw the 3D image over and over again on her holoscribe while she was growing up. There were more than a hundred stars, and her grandmother would measure the angle and distance between each star carefully when she finished. If anything was incorrect, she had to draw it again.
The Map showed the birthplace of their clan, Nai Nai had said. At the center of the Map was the star system that their ancestors had been driven from, so long ago that no one knew when.
Carina had once asked her grandmother why they didn’t try to return to their original home.
“No one knows where to go anymore, Mei Mei. No one remembers where we came from.”
“But we have the Map,” Carina had persisted. “Why can’t we find it using that?”
Nai Nai had laughed and dipped her hand into a jar of sand she used for polishing the beautiful stones she sold for a living. She scattered the sand across the floor where Carina sat.
“Tell me, Mei Mei, how many grains do you see?”
Carina frowned. Was it a test? “Ten thousand? No. Fifty thousand.”
“Probably about five thousand. Look closely, child, and imagine these are stars. In our section of the galaxy alone there are ten times as many stars as there are grains of sand lying here. It would take several lifetimes to visit each and check if the surrounding pattern of stars matched the Map. One would need to look at the groupings from many orientations. And our galactic sector is only one of thousands.”
The young Carina eyed her holoscribe drawing, which had taken her over two hours to create. “Then why bother remembering it at all? Why not give up on ever returning home?”
“That is something every mage must answer for herself. But let me ask you, little one, do you feel as though this place where we live now is your home?”
Carina considered their two-roomed house, which in truth was little more than a shack. She considered the dirty street outside with its open gutter that kept the local rats well fed. She considered how different she felt from the other children, who didn’t know the Elements or the Seasons or the Strokes or the Map, and who could not cast. She shook her head. “I don’t, Nai Nai.”
The old woman sighed. “My great-grandparents told me once they’d heard it said that our birthplace was the origin of humanity itself—the world where humans first evolved, invented space travel, and journeyed out to colonize new worlds. If we could find that place again, it would truly be something very special.
“But more important even than that, the Map gives us hope,” her grandmother continued. “We are exiles and our clan has been scattered to the stars. Nowhere are we accepted for being who we are. We live in secrecy, always. The Map holds the promise that one day we may live openly and together again in our homeland. Holding onto that possibility helps us to go on.”
Remembering Nai Nai’s words calmed Carina’s anxiety a little, and she slipped into a deep meditative state.
Some time later, the sound of the cabin door opening entered the edge of her consciousness. She brought herself out of her trance and turned to see Thyrna Atoi, her bunk mate, bend down to slide into the lower bunk.
“You missed dinner,” said Atoi. “Not that you missed much. Chef’s on a marine plant kick. Yeuuuch! It’s high in nutrients and protein, he said whenever anyone complained.”
The bunk shuddered as Atoi shifted her position. She was a large, heavily muscled woman.
“I wasn’t that hungry anyway,” Carina said.
“You missed the announcement too. Got another mission. Hykara sector.”
“Where’s that?”
“Don’t know. A long way from here. We’re fast-burning through the quiet shift.”
As Atoi mentioned the fast burn, Carina began to feel the vibration of Duchess’ engines powering up. She lay down and fastened the safety webbing over her bunk. Soon, the ship would lurch as they switched to FTL drive.
“What’s the mission?” Carina asked, studying the rust patch in the corner of the ceiling above her bunk.
“Search and rescue. Kidnap victim.”
“Huh? Isn’t that one for a planetside control force?”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” Atoi replied. “Word is, no one local will touch it. Other mercs won’t touch it. We’re only doing it because it’s that or disband. Tarsalan says she’ll pull the plug otherwise.”
Unfastening her webbing temporarily, Carina leaned over the edge of her bunk to look at Atoi. The woman had the satisfied expression of someone spinning out a juicy piece of gossip.
“What else does the word say?” Carina asked.
Atoi smirked. “The boy who was kidnapped is a Sherrerr, and the kidnappers are—”
“Dirksens,” Carina finished for her. She threw herself onto her back. “We’ve bought it.”
“Yeah. Everyone’s trying to bail but Tarsalan won’t let them. Says they have to work out their contracts. No negotiation. After the last mission, feelings were already running high. Some chairs got thrown, tables broken. Tarsalan exited at the first sign of trouble and left Cadwallader and Speidel to calm things down.”
Carina could imagine the scene. She was glad she’d skipped dinner. Merc bands were mostly made up of men and women who had left—or been discharged from—the military because they were unstable or lacked the discipline necessary for service in the forces. They could be aggressive, anti-social, impulsive, and belligerent.
Her soldier buddies’ personality quirks had never bothered Carina much. Surviving alone from a young age had brought her into contact with many unsavory types. In fact, they made things easier for her. Superficial friendships and casual hookups were all she could risk in terms of relationships. In her time with the Black Dogs, she’d only ever contemplated something more with one man: Stevenson, the shuttle pilot, who was relatively sane. She’d avoided him ever since coming to the realizatio
n.
No, mercs were not to be messed with, and Tarsalan, in her usual nonchalant, disinterested manner, had just told a room of them that their next mission was to be even more suicidal than their last.
5
As Carina went to the armory to suit up before leaving on the mission to rescue the little Sherrerr boy, she was reconsidering her decision to go along. Speidel had advised her to move on from the merc band, and she had recently come dangerously close to revealing her ability. What was more, the assignment was highly risky. Even if they succeeded—which wasn’t likely—the chances were that the Dirksen clan wouldn’t rest until it found and punished the people responsible for thwarting their plan. And in the list of possible punishments the Dirksens meted out, the best and rarest option was a quick death.
Despite Tarsalan’s threats, there wasn’t much the company owner could do to the mercs who refused to take part in the assignment other than fire them, and being let go from their jobs was a problem that paled in comparison to the potential consequences of defying the Dirksens.
The Sherrerr/Dirksen feud was notorious. It had gone on for so long, the inciting event was lost in time, but the reason for their mutual hatred and constant clashes didn’t matter. The Sherrerrs and Dirksens were equally wealthy, powerful, and corrupt, which meant that their rivalry to be the ruling clan in that sector of the galaxy was inevitable.
Anyone with any sense had nothing to do with either family if they could help it. It was true that when you were on the inside, you had access to all the luxury and privilege the connection provided, but there was a large drawback: you could never leave. Once you were in, you were in for life and that was that. If you left, you were an unacceptable liability, and you would spend the rest of your prematurely shortened life looking over your shoulder, wondering where and when the blow would fall.
Carina guessed that the Sherrerrs had promised Tarsalan rich rewards and lifelong protection for her and her loved ones to persuade her to take the deal. The same recompense and safeguarding wouldn’t apply to the grunts who did the actual work.
The mercs who refused the job were dumped on a remote planet, unpaid. The rumor was that Speidel had threatened to resign, though for some reason he was now coming along. Perhaps his motivation was similar to Carina’s. She certainly had no interest in the clan feud or in incurring the vengeful spite of the Dirksens, but she had thought more than once about the little boy they had taken.
According to the information the Sherrerrs had given, he was only six. Carina had been but four years older when she had also found herself alone with no one to protect her, and she hated to think how the ruthless Dirksens might treat a Sherrerr they had in their clutches. No ransom note had been issued, and no other explanation had been given for the kidnapping, so what they were planning to do was unclear.
Someone had to get the boy out. Carina had done some morally questionable things during her time as a merc. If rescuing an innocent child was to be her last mission, it would be a fitting finale to her career.
The armory was already busy with the rest of the mission squad. She took down the legs of her armor and stepped into them, tightening the fit before slotting the torso into place and sealing it. The arms came next. She slipped the canister of elixir into its pouch and adjusted its position so that it wasn’t in the way. From the edge of her vision she noticed Smitz watching. She gave him the stink eye and bent down to pick up her helmet.
“Hey, what are you doing, you bunch of useless grunts?” asked Captain Speidel as he appeared at the door. “Didn’t you hear the directive? If we go in there dressed like soldiers, we’ll be blown to bits before we get within five klicks of the target. You’re in civvies for this. And no guns. We don’t want to draw any attention when we disembark. We’ll buy weapons planetside. Get changed and get to the shuttle. We’re leaving at eleven hundred and fifteen.”
Half an hour later, Speidel gave them a final briefing as they descended to the planet.
“Listen up,” he said to the eight mercs seated on each side of the shuttle, looking uncomfortable in normal clothes. “Orrana’s a young world, geologically speaking. Too young to be settled, in my opinion. It’s highly volcanic, and while that makes for lucrative mining operations, the effects are pretty much what you would expect on a relatively new planet: regular eruptions, earthquakes, tsunamis, geysers, boiling volcanic springs, and so on.
“The biggest settlement is on one of the most stable landmasses, and it’s a pretty lawless place from what I can gather, which suits our purposes perfectly. That sword cuts both ways, however. If anyone gets into trouble, they only have themselves or us to rely on to get them out of it. There is a local civil control force, but it’s probably either ineffective or crooked. It’s unlikely to interfere in any fights and we might find ourselves on the wrong side of it if it becomes known why we’re there. If they don’t already know what the Dirksens are doing, they probably aren’t going to do anything if they find out.
“You’re likely wondering how we know where the Dirksens are holding the victim. The simple answer is the boy’s been fitted with a transmitter. It’s embedded in him, so we have his exact coordinates. We only have to break or sneak through the Dirksens’ guard, rescue the lad, and escape with him. Duchess will be ready to run the moment we have him aboard.”
Smitz said, “You left something out, Captain.”
“What’s that, Private?”
“What’s our cut and when do we get it?”
“What?”
“The Sherrerrs must be paying a fortune to rescue their kid. What I want to know is, how much of that cred are we seeing? What’s our bonus?”
“No one’s mentioned a bonus, Smitz.”
“We’re taking all this risk so Tarsalan can buy another pretty ring?”
“You’ll get what you’re paid,” said Speidel. “Now be quiet.”
“Right,” Smitz said. “I’ll remember that when the Dirksens have me cornered in a dark alley. I’ll be sure to give them her home address.” He spat into the gully that ran down the center of the small ship.
Speidel grimaced in disgust. “What the hell are you chewing, man? Hand it over.”
His face set in anger, Smitz pulled out his packet of herb and gave it to Speidel, who put it in his pocket.
“Take these,” Speidel said, handing out breathing masks. “Wear them at all times and never breathe the local air. The atmosphere has enough oxygen, but the CO2 level will kill you. I’m hoping we won’t have to stay the night there, but if we do, change the filter every day. Everyone take one of these too.” He opened a drawstring bag containing small electronic devices. “They’re comms with high level encryption, as you won’t be wearing your helmets.”
Carina took one of the small gadgets and pushed it into her right ear. She pulled her hair forward to cover it. When Speidel spoke again, she heard his voice loud and clear.
“Now I know we don’t do much plain clothes work,” the captain continued, “so some of you might not feel comfortable with it. What you have to try to remember is that, until we’re inside the place where they’re keeping the kid, you’re to try to forget that you’re soldiers. Whoever’s guarding the child will be on the lookout for anyone who seems like they could be ex-military.”
Pondering the captain’s words, Carina’s gaze roved over her fellow operatives. Smitz was the largest of the bunch. He was built like a heavyweight fistfighter and wore a permanent scowl. Brown was as tall as Smitz but more supple and lithe. He moved like a predator. Next to Brown was Atoi, who loved to work on her upper body strength. Her bull neck and biceps were stretching the material of her shirt.
On Carina’s left sat Carver. She had a scar that ran diagonally across her cheek and under her nose, permanently lifting her top lip. It wouldn’t have been expensive to get the scar fixed, but Carver seemed to like the look. Halliday sat on Carina’s right. He had the gaze of someone who had seen enough horror for several lifetimes. Further on from Hallid
ay were Jackson with his prosthetic arm and Lee, who had a nervous tic that made him blink excessively.
They were gonna buy it for sure.
6
They set up at a hostel for transient workers while Captain Speidel went out to procure some weapons. Firearms of any kind were prohibited on the planet according to the signs at the arrivals section of the spaceport, but it seemed as though no one paid much attention to the rule. Carina had seen guns and rifles carried openly as they rode the transport to the hostel.
Orrana was a dark place in climate and mood. Thick haze generated by frequent volcanic eruptions blocked much of the sunlight. As a result, vegetation was minimal. Deep gray-green, straggly stems covered the black soil to the horizon. Speidel had told them that animal life was at the microorganism stage, so they had nothing to fear from the indigenous species. Carina doubted the same could be said for the Dirksens or their employees.
The locals that she’d seen at the spaceport wore sour or suspicious or desperate looks, judging by what she could see of their faces. Their breathing masks covered the nose and mouth and were fastened by a strap on each side of the face and one over the top of the head. The clothes the locals wore were basic and utilitarian and their hair was plainly cut. Fashion was not of any importance on Orrana. Survival was.
The mercs’ story was that they were a team of smelting workers. It was a subterfuge intended to account for their rough, burly appearance. If asked, they were to say that they were looking for work and were not interested in setting up their own operation. Conflicts over land, mining rights, and raw materials were rife, and the mercs were to expect scrutiny in that regard.