Rogue Ragtime

by K Alexis

  Putting his communicator down, Agra looked at the mattress above him. What did he want from Jetta being evil? A sliver of hope? The minutest possibility Steh was alive and this was a hoax by Pennypacker, Ristie or some other god-child to get a rise out of their already doomed party? The chance to go back and do it all again so he could see his friend for who he was—the lost romantic trying to forget his solace? Steh had committed suicide; Elia had said so. What could she gain from telling all her passengers the Nucia was unsafe?

  Agra zoomed out from the images and scrolled down through the thousands of pictures he had taken as a spy … and as a friend. He could see Steh smiling in the half-bemused way he always did when caught on camera. Agra had hundreds of photos dedicated to them running away from failed experiment after failed experiment and then uproariously laughing about it around a campfire. Now they would never have another explosion nor another fight over why Steh's sixteen-layer wrench needed to be upgraded with their precious credits. Those days were gone.

  Agra looked at the image his comm had landed on and wondered what demons had pushed that same smiling magician to jump. How many other things had he hidden from them? How much did Agra really know about the muddling mage and his mysterious mutie-pal who claimed they had been experimented on? Was Steh really Stehlan Ehrans, the creator of the Doom Blade? The Destroyer of Cuba? He would have been ten at the time of the attack. Was that not impossible in and by itself?

  Agra knew there was nothing that could make him believe it. Perhaps there was nothing that could make him want to believe it. He liked Steh frozen in time as the mercenary apprentice who had ended up cursed with magic. Anything other than that meant their group had never been friends, only five strangers fated to travel together until the end of time. That he was a Corsair at heart. He had exchanged his kindness and smiles for the safety and flexibility of a group, not caring about the other party members unless they could provide him with some benefit.

  Agra suppressed his thoughts by tapping the top of the communicator and re-examining Jetta's photos. "It would be simpler if you were a double-crossing, no-good, down-low and dirty assassin," he said, mocking his earlier anger. "I mean, look at your shifty gaz—"

  Jetta's eyes caught his attention; they kept changing color. He held up the C-Komm and moved it. Part of her iris transitioned from green to blue. He wandered around the cabin with the communicator, checking to see if the transition was not a hallucination created by his stress-filled mind. It was not. The shift was always there when he tilted the communicator. It was an indication that, like Mea, Jetta had been magically experimented on.

  "Zahir, who is she?" he asked the Class 4 Intellect in the C-Komm.

  Three dots appeared and reappeared on the surface of the device to show it was searching for an answer. Agra still had difficulty adjusting from one type of communicator to another. N-Comms responded verbally or with pictures while Corsair ones replied with text. He had always found it easy to get them mixed up, constantly wondering why one device or the other could not do certain things he had come to expect as normal.

  The dots finished blinking and the K-Comm read, "Corsair identity confirmed." The rest of the information came soon after.

  Wednesday, 22 Oct 65 P.C.T., 6:47am

  Request lodged by: [Azra] 18034568X

  Viewing Clearance: Provisional Watcher

  Name: Jetta (Unknown)

  Gender: Identifies as cis-female. Anecdotal reports are inconclusive.

  Age: Appears to be in her late-twenties and early-thirties according to Incident Report(s) 46–789.

  Commune: (Unknown)

  Affiliates: LOCKED

  Romance History: LOCKED

  Personality: No core traits verified.

  Intellect: Considered the second most intelligent person in the known universe.

  Magical Affinity: Nature (Wind)

  Copyrights Reversed: Extensive

  Crimes: LOCKED

  Critical Information Provided: LOCKED

  Last Seen: LOCKED

  Lethality Ranking: LOCKED

  Hierarchical Ranking: LOCKED

  Notes: The majority of LOCKED indicate JETTA is difficult to control and predict as a partner. Her loyalty to her (Unknown) commune is more important to her than the overarching goals of the CORSAIR ASSEMBLEY, and despite LOCKED, punishment has proven difficult to enforce. She should be treated as a FREE SAIL and brought in on a mission as a last resort. Under no circumstances should she be engaged with romantically as INCIDENT REPORT(S) 7–1026 show a destructive pattern toward the male partner.

  Action Suggested: APPROACH WITH CAUTION

  Wed, 22 Oct 65 P.C.T., 2:35am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]

  Maybe while you're doing that, could you help me out? What do you know about Starfires?

  Steh almost blew himself up the other day by overtaxing his magical abilities. The whole scene looked similar to Sacramento, but Tath doesn't think he is one.

  7:35am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]

  It doesn't matter. Steh's dead. He jumped to his death.

  Fifteen: The Queen

  AFTER A FEW fitful hours of sleep, Agra sat at his usual imagination projector. If he squinted, he could make out Jetta through his movie. She had changed back to her baggy attire and showed no signs of the lithe woman he had begun to fantasize over. Her chinos sagged off her body, clearly two sizes too large, and her top hung from her frame as if it was a slack sail in a becalmed lake. Her eyes, vibrant in the photos, were a listless and dull redwood as they blankly regarded a point on her holo-player. For a woman who was not supposed to be in mourning, Agra thought she was doing an excellent job of imitating it.

  Despite the doubts swirling in his mind, he waited until the credits had started to roll on her movie and then ambled over.

  When she caught sight of him, she rubbed her eyes. "Are you one of Stehlan's friends?" she asked.

  "Yes," he confirmed. "My name's Agra."

  She patted the leather seat next to her on the couch. "'Agra?'" she repeated. "With a 'g'? I thought your name had a 'z' in it. Aren't you Azra from the Leviathan commune?"

  Agra was halfway into a sitting position when she had asked and so found himself tensing awkwardly in mid-air. He had, in hindsight, foolishly assumed she had not done any research on him. Clumsily forcing a smile, he completed his action and joined her on the couch. "I think you might be confusing me with someone else," he said.

  "Am I?" Jetta touched her forehead. "I was certain you were the Corsair that had done the unthinkable and fallen in love with your supervisor. The story my blueberry told was one filled with longing, betrayal and inevitable death. Have I gotten it all mixed up?"

  Feeling some of his uncertainty subside due to Jetta's constant use of information only a Corsair would know, Agra persisted with his plan. "I'm not sure what Stehlan said, but I am sorry for your loss," he replied. "If I'd known he'd been so distressed, I would have …"

  She put her hand on top of his. The physical contact made him flinch. "Yes, I'm sure you would've," she said. "He spoke very highly of you."

  Agra slid his hand out from under hers and placed it on his thigh. "Did you also discuss the symbol on your dress? It's a … peculiar choice."

  Jetta blinked. A small line of silver appeared in her iris and cycled around her eye. "Sometimes it's best to leave Davy Jones in his locker," she said, an edge creeping into her voice.

  Agra played the fool. "I'm not following you. Is that a local phrase from your tract?"

  "An old one." Jetta smiled wanly. "You'll have to forgive me, Agra, I don't quite understand why you're here."

  He cleared his throat. He had not anticipated having to play his trump card so soon. "I … I thought you might want to see Steh's personal effects. I assume some of them might belong to you."

  "Oh." Jetta switched off her imagination projector and stood up, her mood changing immediately. "I'd like that. Did you bunk with him?"

  "Yes."

  "Then yo
u must have the best stories. Ones he wouldn't have wanted made public."

  "Perhaps," Agra hedged. "Shall I lead the way?"

  Jetta gestured for Agra to proceed. He led her out of the imagination bank to his cabin. While he was searching for his key, a couple that was staying a few doors down stepped out and noticed them.

  "Oh," the man said. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to say something earlier. About your loss and all."

  "Not now, dear," his plump, twenty-something spouse said, pulling him forward. "They have a lot to discuss."

  "I am sorry about what happened," the man repeated. "However, if you find out where your friend fell through, could you—"

  The woman yanked her partner away until they were out of sight.

  Jetta raised her eyebrows. "You have nice neighbors."

  "Only if you don't know them," Agra replied. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, indicating Jetta should enter first.

  She stepped into the cabin and visually inspected it as Agra closed the door behind them. As always, he felt a slight tremor while the room adjusted to its new occupants. It expanded its height and width until the place was neither tight nor cramped.

  "I thought Stehlan would have travelled in more style," Jetta said.

  "You probably thought a lot of things about him," Agra commented. The lock clicked to indicate the room had completed its transformation and was now soundproof.

  "Jesus on calm seas," Jetta said as she let out a long gasp of air. "This is a nightmare."

  "Not the grieving widow, then?" Agra said, moving around her to the other side of the cabin.

  "Tell me you knew that before you strolled over in the imagination bank."

  "Yes—"

  "Then what possessed you to lay out the game in the open?" she demanded. "I can't believe you asked me about the Leviathan SOS in public. Have your sexual urges interfered with every part of your brain or only the sections you use to speak with women?" Jetta tapped her foot. When Agra did not answer immediately, she barked, "Hurry up. I asked you a question."

  Agra, for reasons he could not explain, almost blurted out his fantasy of screwing her until she begged for more. He opened his mouth to tell Jetta what she was making him feel with her posturing and lying, but Junko's angry face flashed through his mind, and he thought better of it. "Is Steh alive?" Agra finally asked.

  "I don't know," Jetta replied. "Why would I know?"

  "The SOS symbol. I thoug—"

  "I'm the one in distress here," Jetta answered, cutting him off. "And you're a probie watcher. So, you have to help me, or you'll never get promoted. Why else would I wear it?"

  "Because Steh is in trouble," Agra answered.

  Jetta cracked her knuckles and winced. "That's an idiotic assumption," she said. "Stehlan Ehrans was not a Corsair. I have no duty to assist him."

  Agra felt like he was a small ship caught in a giant storm and the elements had wrested control of his vessel's rudder. He had thought that by talking to Jetta, he would have been able to obtain some answers to his most pressing questions. However, all their conversation seemed to have done so far was open up additional avenues of inquiry.

  "How do you know my rank?" Agra queried, changing the topic so he had time to gather his thoughts. "Only Jetta and her superiors should have access to it."

  "I hacked your communicator," Jetta replied matter-of-factly. "Try not to flatter yourself like every other man I've met; I do it to everyone." She crossed her arms and tapped her foot once more. "I need a favor, so I'll level and admit I can't be associated with another missing madman. That's my main motivation here. Even the Assembly has their limits with free sails like me."

  "Another one?" Agra asked.

  "Three others, and why are we talking about them?" Jetta moved her hands as if she was juggling something between them. "This is about Stehlan and finding him … or his corpse. Don't you want closure?"

  Agra felt his throat tighten. The area behind Jetta started to swirl and fade into a foggy blackness. He stretched his fingers and forced himself to take a breath. The world cleared a little. "You don't know?" he queried.

  "I know it wasn't suicide. Elia asked me to take that line." Jetta sat on the bunk. "If she's asking an obvious con artist to sell an idea, it definitely can't be that. This leaves us with three obvious possibilities: kidnapping, murder or an escape. I don't know which one, but I have a theory."

  "Are you going to share it?" Agra prompted.

  "No. I don't want to get your hopes up. I want this to be a strict Corsair exchange. You help me find Stehlan, and I provide your cute butt with some finality to this mess."

  The comment about his butt made Agra blush, and he involuntarily ran his hand over his backside. The action also sent a shiver down his spine and reminded him of the warning in her file. By accident or design, he was drawn to her, and he was more than aware of how easily a mark could be duped when they were emotionally involved. "I'm not interested," he replied, stammering. "I have right of refusal."

  "This went very differently in my head," Jetta said.

  "I have no desire in searching for a dead friend. I don't know why Elia made you lie, but—"

  "Because I helped Stehlan," Jetta countered. "You'd already know that if you hadn't been so bent on watching rodents kill each other last night. He got caught writing by a harmony encourager, and I knew who he was. No Corsair, even one with an addled moon-brain, is going to let the Grinners reclaim Stehlan Ehrans. We got lucky they lost the Doom Blade after Cuba, but if Stehlan is alive and he forges another one, our coalition will fall. It would be better for everyone if he was dead."

  "Well, he is," Agra added, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

  "With my name attached his death." Jetta got up and poked Agra in the chest. "You think the Grinners are going to give me a second of peace if they believe I was engaged to the greatest inventor who has ever roamed Earth? They will have an impossibly long list of questions. Where did he disappear for twelve years? How close were Clarice and him really? Why did his parents declare him dead as soon as they could? Why didn't he turn himself in after escaping his abductors?

  "Are you getting the picture?" she continued. "Corsairs on one side, Grinners on the other, and me smack bang in the middle." Jetta clapped her hands together.

  "I want to help," Agra started. "But we spent a year looking for a way to resurrect Lara on the promise of an old book and a bag. I'm not doing that again. I can't. I thought you could tell me if he was alive or dead, and you have." He shrugged, staring at the ceiling. "Does it matter if it was a suicide or revenge-killing when the outcome is the same?" When Jetta did not reply, Agra walked past her and to the door. He stopped in front of it. "Last chance, do you think there's even a slim possibility that he's alive?"

  Jetta stayed quiet. As Agra waited, he wondered how difficult it would be to throw her out of the cabin. She was about two heads shorter than him and a foot less than Tath or Mea. Even if her physique was all muscle, so was his—and that meant her reflexes mattered little in such a small space. No matter what she attempted, he could overpower her with sheer force if pressed.

  After a while Agra tried again. "Is Steh alive?" he asked.

  As if his words had been some sort of cue, the aura around Jetta shifted. The lethargy that had made her so easy to ignore was replaced with a chaotic intensity that exploded and popped. Agra felt insignificant. It was like the entire universe had come into the cabin and was peering through his cosmic dust to find out where it had gone wrong.

  "I offer you an easy way to move past this, yet you still wish for the truth," she said.

  "Please leave," Agra requested.

  "Say that again, channel fucker."

  He did and found himself on the floor, Jetta's elbow leaning heavily on his neck. "Listen here, probie," Jetta hissed. "I don't give two fucks about your crew of mediocre miscreants. You can go and die on your cursed quests for all I care. I tried to do this as an equal, but Charitable Je
tta's gone now. You've got me: Queen of the Roiling Seas. You breathing?"

  Agra nodded and attempted to flip her over, but he could not move his body. He felt as if the air in the room was pressing down on every inch of his skin and trapping him against the carpeted floor. It was so acute that he could not slide his limbs left or right.

  "There's a reason Elia needs this story to match up for the Grinners," Jetta continued. "Stehlan was a Starfire, and she wants no-one—I mean no-one—to fucking know that. Don't fucking ask me why. It's not high enough on my list of things to give a shit about. A murder opens an investigation, a suicide doesn't. That's it.

  "So, there's not a lot of options for me at the moment. I either find the murderer so it's an open and shut case or get put on another watch list. Yes, your friend's probably dead. Yes, Elia was mostly telling the truth. And yes, I have a fucking theory about how they did it but not who. So, with all my shameful secrets spat out, are you going to help me, or am I going to snap your neck and burn this vessel to the ground like a proper Corsair should?"

  Wed, 22 Oct 65 P.C.T., 2:35am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]

  Maybe while you're doing that, could you help me out? What do you know about Starfires?

  Steh almost blew himself up the other day by overtaxing his magical abilities. The whole scene looked similar to Sacramento, but Tath doesn't think he is one.

  7:35am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]

  It doesn't matter. Steh's dead. He jumped to his death.

  11:27am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]