Rift in the Races (17 page)

“Levi,” erupted Captain Asad’s voice from Roberto’s com badge. “Get that ship back here now.”

Roberto made an
eek!
face at Orli and tapped the glinting silver button at his collar. “Yes, sir. I have extracted Ensign Pewter and the residents of Calico Castle and returned them to their… uh…,” he looked around, gave Orli a second
eek
! face and continued, “to their grateful queen and ruler, who has, uh, expressed her gratitude … gratefully.” A third
eek!
face completed the set.

“I can see where you are. Get your ass back here, and bring that idiot Pewter with you. You’ve really screwed it up this time, Lieutenant.” The com link crackled once and closed. Roberto couldn’t be sure if the captain cut the connection or if it was the effects of some spell being cast nearby.

Roberto looked back and forth between his companions and shrugged. “He’s an angry man. What can you do?”

“You can get him his machine back,” admonished the rumpled looking Tytamon. “You two had better return before you’re in the well too deep for a rope. I will make sure that what can be done to assist you in your difficulties with your commander is done, as I am sure the Queen is every bit as grateful as you explained.” He smiled some at that.

“Yes, sir,” said Roberto, visibly relieved.

“But what about Pernie?” Orli asked. “We can’t take her with us back to Little Earth. How will she get home? We’re going back to Tinpoa Base today, and the medic said Kettle’s treatment is going to be a while.”

Tytamon frowned.

“I’ll take her,” said Altin striding up behind them, now healed and just come from the shuttle. Fatigue drooped his features some, but beyond the smoky aspect of his robes, he looked none the worse for wear. His hair was always as messy anyway, and a bit of singeing didn’t change his overall appearance much.

Orli ran across the space that separated them and hugged him. Pernie was there just as fast, hugging him at his hip. He held them both for several long moments, then guided them back toward Tytamon with a hand on the shoulder of each.

“I’ll watch Pernie,” he repeated, then looking down at the child, added, “and she’ll stay right beside me the entire time, won’t she?”

Pernie nodded up at him with wide promising eyes.

Tytamon was clearly not pleased with the decision, but the child had comported herself brilliantly in the hour past, and he had little time to deal with it. “Very well. Get her back to Kettle the moment the woman is well. And you two,” he shot gray-eyed command at the two young Earth officers, “get that thing out of here before they start teleporting out the troops. I suspect your electrical gadgetry will not abide that much magical output.” He swept an arm in the direction of the massive black-tiled teleportation pad now entirely filled with cavalry and surrounded by magicians standing nearly shoulder to shoulder on every side. The transmuters were starting to cast walls around the space, black spans to match the tiles on the ground slowly manifesting along the edges and growing like wax melting in the wrong direction, flowing up toward the sky. A handful of horses pranced around nervously as the walls began to form around them, their riders patting their necks and speaking to them in low voices, trying to calm them. A few of the newer mounts had never been exposed to this particular exercise.

“Whoa, you aren’t kidding,” said Roberto watching the blackness spread like liquid in defiance of gravity. To Orli, he said, “Let me see how long those medics are going to be. We do need to get out of here.”

“What are you going to do?” Orli asked Altin as Roberto jogged back to the ship. She made no effort to conceal her fright. She knew what he was going to say.

“I’m going to get my castle back.”

“Indeed,” said Tytamon.

Chapter 10

O
rli and Roberto trotted through the knee-deep grass of Little Earth, a forty-acre compound the Queen had given the fleet to use when they first came to Prosperion. Little Earth served as a forward base, mainly diplomatic for being only a few miles outside Crown City. Both were nervous as they ran, fearing Roberto’s fate at the hands of the eternally angry Captain Asad. Neither expected that Orli was going to fare much better than Roberto, despite her technically having no responsibility for the unauthorized—specifically forbidden—use of the ship. She had, however—and as usual—been right at the center of the problem, or at least that is how they both reckoned the captain was going to see it when they were done explaining it to him.

“I got ten credits says he shoots you first,” Roberto wagered as they approached the small village the residents of Kurr had built for the fleet’s use, quaint wooden buildings with thatched roofs and lined up along unpaved streets. They were not much to look upon if one viewed them with an eye for Earth-like technology, but they were equipped with all the most modern comforts Kurr magicians could provide—which was why the fleet only used the base sparingly. “I’m betting he’ll shoot you, then demote me, and then shoot me last.”

Orli had no reply. She definitely was in no mind for humor. Her thoughts were still back with Altin at the military compound in Crown. Altin was going to go right back to where he had—where they all had—nearly been killed, and he was going to go having only been a few moments healed. He was so reckless. So fearless, perhaps. When things were safe and peaceful, it was nice to think of him that way. It made her feel safe to think of a future with him, a life of miracles and daring adventure, yet always protected by the man who had single-handedly mastered the galaxy. Contentment swelled in her for a moment as she thought of it, but then it died there, aborted by the crush of immediate reality. Altin was going to charge right back in there where he could get himself killed. Maybe this time he wouldn’t be as lucky as the last.

In the frame of that thought, he seemed reckless, his fearlessness transformed to foolishness in the prism of her mind. And it irked the shit out of her. He’d done his part already, taken injury in the fight. Why couldn’t he let the army go do its job? They had almost two thousand cavalry and ten thousand on foot, she thought angrily. Not to mention all those magicians. What difference did one more make?

If he got himself killed, she would kill herself. She was ashamed of the thought as soon as it crossed her mind. She knew he would be furious if he ever heard her say such a thing out loud. But she didn’t want to live without him. She didn’t think she could.

She’d slowed down as the thoughts played out in her mind, and Roberto slowed to match her long enough to put a hand on her back and push her up the narrow dirt lane that ran between rows of low buildings and led to the infrequently used HQ. “Come on,” he said.

Their passing startled a bird from the thatch of a nearby outbuilding, so close they could hear the striking together of its wingtips as it flapped off in the frenzy of an unnecessary retreat. Orli watched it go and let out a long sigh. “Mourning dove,” she said. “
Bleh
.” Roberto cocked an eyebrow, having no clue what that was supposed to mean and being smart enough not to ask.

They made their way toward the large central building at the furthest end of what everyone called “town square.” They went round the enchanted marble fountain and up the creaking wooden steps.

“Brace yourself,” Roberto said as he pulled open the door.

A petty officer sat behind a table made of marginally finished cedar boards, typing into a computer console that seemed a demonstration of paradox in this particular setting. He looked up at them and grimaced, then tapped his com. “Lieutenant Levi and Ensign Pewter are here to see you, sir.”

“Send them in,” snapped Captain Asad through the speaker on the monitor.

The petty officer tapped the com off and jerked his head toward the door behind him to the right. “I’d wish you guys luck, but it won’t help. You’re screwed.”

“What else is new?” Orli said, her own voice as snappish as the captain’s had been. A familiar look of defiance came upon her face, and suddenly she was storming toward the captain’s door.

“Whoa!” Roberto said as he caught her by the wrist and spun her back around. “Don’t be stupid, woman. Take a breath. Seriously.”

“I’m sick of apologizing and making excuses. This is ridiculous. The man is devoted to being pissed off at me, so let’s just speed things along—get in there and get it over with, you know?”

He made a hushing sound. “Orli, stop. You’re only barely not on some kind of quadruple life imprisonment, scheduled for multiple simultaneous executions and whatever else they can do multiple times to you. So you need to just calm down, shut your face and let me do the talking, all right?”

She tried to snatch her arm away, but the powerful young pilot gripped her hard enough to make her cry out. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

“You stop,” he shot back. He was resolute, absolutely so, but there was gentleness in his deep brown eyes. He let her wrist go and took her shoulders in his hands instead, turning her to face him squarely. “Please, Orli. Don’t go in there and grenade yourself like you are about to do. Please. For me. And for Altin. Come on, I know you. You and the captain are like a matter and antimatter sandwich, and I don’t want to be the mayonnaise. Okay? So just keep your trap shut. Promise me?”

From the way her left eye narrowed, Roberto thought she was going to fire off some retort, but then she relaxed, both visibly and in his grip. Two long breaths came and went, and she let her eyes drop momentarily to the dusty floor.

“You’re right. It’s been a long day,” she said.

“It’s going to get longer in a second. We both know it. So just zip it, no matter what. Let me handle it, all right?”

“All right.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They went inside.

Captain Asad sat behind a massive rosewood desk inlaid around its upper edges with lustrous gray material that made Orli think of opal or abalone shell though it was clearly something else. On the walls around him hung giant monitors, the one right behind him showing a scalable live image of the continent of Kurr. On the right, a chart of the solar system was displayed, and on the left, a blueprint of the Tinpoa mines with red and green lines representing the progress of the newest and deepest shafts.

The captain, like the young man outside, was busy tapping away at a console on his desk. He took considerably longer to look up and acknowledge that they were standing there than the petty officer had. The conversation didn’t start well when he did. “Levi, you disobeyed a direct order.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Ensign Pewter is my shipmate, a fellow bridge officer and a friend, sir. I was wrong to take the ship, but I was able to extract one of your officers, the magician Tytamon and… and a Prosperion knight, along with several noncombatants, including a child, from an immediate and life-threatening situation. Sir.”

“I heard that the first time, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked them both over, but settled on Orli, his eyes narrowing at her as if she were a cockroach crawling on the wall. “And if I attempt to maintain any form of discipline down here, I will, again—as always—have that loudmouthed woman in Crown City running to the admiral and stretching the boundaries of diplomacy beyond anything reasonable on
your
behalf.”

Roberto’s lips twitched, but he pulled that one back. Even a “Yes, sir” seemed a bad move just then.

“I’m canceling all planetary leaves as of this moment,” said the Captain. “For both of you. Clearly the temptation to disobey orders at every turn is too great for either of you to withstand when you are here.”

Roberto could feel Orli’s fury rising like heat from a failing reactor coolant pump. He twisted his hand from where it hung at his hip and grabbed her wrist again, hoping the movement would be concealed from the captain by the monitor on his desk. He squeezed, again hard enough to make her grunt. “Don’t,” he muttered through the side of his mouth, trying for a whisper.

“Yes, Pewter, don’t,” said the captain. He turned his gaze back to his pilot. “I am going to spare you the court martial you deserve, Lieutenant, out of respect for the work you do at the helm, and …,” he paused, “in light of the fortunate outcome you managed to slop into out there today. Do not depend on my being so lenient in the future.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“And you, Pewter. I haven’t decided what I am going to do with you. You are a magnet for trouble. You are defiant, disrespectful, undisciplined, ungrateful, insubordinate and, frankly, irritating beyond any measure I can think of. However, given your uncanny ability to avoid even the least inconvenience, much less consequences, for anything you do, I’m putting you in for transfer to another ship. If I can’t discipline you or teach you discipline, let someone else do it or ignore it as they will. I give up. You have too many allies for me to help you or to help the fleet be rid of you, either one. If I have to, I’ll replace you with one of the Prosperion blanks. They could hardly be more incompetent.”

Her first instinct was to spit, “Good! It’s about time,” at him, but Roberto’s hiss of, “No,” along with a squeeze of her wrist made her hold her tongue.

Roberto grew desperate then. For the captain to speak such a threat, of willingly adding Prosperions to the bridge crew—it already galled him to have the Prosperion crewmen Admiral Crane had ordered him to take—there couldn’t be any easy way out of this. A Prosperion as an officer? Roberto knew it was an empty threat. He knew there was no chance of that really happening, but the fact that the idea had even occurred to the captain proved the degree of his resolve.