The Mask And The Master (Mechanized Wizardry Book 2) (2 page)

“You’re getting one of the biggest spaces here,” the man said, removing his hand.  Lundin brushed his hands against his stomach as he looked around, shaking his head in disbelief all over again.  The immaculate workroom assigned to him, just one tech out of dozens here, was nearly the size of the Recon squad’s entire second-floor workshop, which the four of them had shared—

Had shared
.  Lundin swallowed, closing down that line of thought.  “Lucky me,” he said.

The Board of Governors has reached a verdict on reassignment, in light of the new royal priorities and the testimony presented today by—

“—need a hand getting your workspace arranged, just call out.  Otherwise, see you in the morning,” the man was saying, heading for the door.

Lundin blinked as the memory flashed past his eyes.  He shook himself back to the present and raised a hand in farewell.  “Thanks... Martin?”

“Martext,” the other man corrected flatly.  Martext Goolsby gave his long black hair a little toss, placing an errant lock back behind his ear where it belonged, and adjusted his glasses.  Everybody here had glasses, Lundin had noticed, in the same squished trapezoidal frames.  Why would they choose to order lenses in such an odd, narrow shape?  The frames had to cost a fortune, and for optometry purposes, getting the appropriate curvature on a thin trapezoid of glass sounded like a lens crafter’s nightmare.  Vertical peripheral vision would be curtailed too, relative to normal circular lenses. 
Odd-looking; more expensive; less functional; and yet everybody has them. 
Lundin’s heart sank as he gestured self-effacingly at the well-groomed tech. 
Spheres help me, I work with
trendy
people
.

“Horace!” a jovial voice rang out.  Lundin turned just as a hand started pawing his shoulder.  There was, apparently, another entrance to his workroom, and his new superior had just used it to sneak up on him.  Lundin tried not to squirm as Dame Dionne beamed into his face, her eyes disappearing behind her high, puffy cheeks (and her trapezoidal glasses).  She slapped him on the back as the big finish to her full-contact welcome, and he gasped; he was sure he’d find the indentations from her rings still visible in his flesh when he got home later tonight.  “Our newest technician,” Dionne crowed proudly.  “Martext, have you met Horace?”

“Oh yes, Dame Dionne.  What a pleasure.”

“An absolute pleasure,” she agreed.  “We’re all just thrilled to have you joining the Civics.  Are you looking forward to shaking things up for your new squad?”

“Ha ha,” Lundin said, baring his teeth in a smile.  Nothing else came to mind.

“Ha ha!”  Dionne jumped in, saving the moment with a full-throated laugh.  She pressed her fingertips against Lundin’s arm. 
Does everybody touch everybody here?
Lundin thought, trying again to stand still. 
Do I have to touch people too?

“Well, we couldn’t be happier that you’re working with us now.  Listen, Horace,” Dionne began, slipping an arm across his shoulders and turning him away from the workbench.  Martext swept out the door, his long hair swishing across his back as he made a beeline for the next task on his agenda.  Dame Dionne clenched her fingers around Lundin’s far bicep and pressed her arm along the length of his back, giving him a one-armed hug.  Her tone became low and serious.  “How
are
you?”

He cleared his throat.  “Sorry?”

“I know that hearing with the Board of Governors last week must have been hard for you.”

When the heir to the Throne takes personal interest in a project, changes must be made—

Lundin shrugged, his shoulders tight against his body from the force of her hug.  “No, no.  It’s all professional.  It’s the best decision.”

“How long were you with the Recon squad?”

“Going on three years.”

Dionne frowned and nodded with profound understanding.  “You get attached to people in three years.”

—and, in light of the interpersonal and disciplinary issues raised in testimony, it is clear that reassignment would be advisable even without the royal—

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lundin said, eyes downcast.

“You went through a lot together, especially in the last month.  From LaMontina’s death on sounds like it was a whirlwind for you.”

“We worked together, but, you know, that’s what Petronauts are here to do.  To work.  Doesn’t really matter where, does it?”

She looked at him.  “Does it?”

—are therefore in the happy position to solve two problems with one single action; the reassignment of junior technician Horace Lundin from the Reconnaissance squad to the Civil Improvement and Development squad, effective—

“Nope,” Lundin shook his head.  His eyes definitely were not watering.

Dame Dionne gently released him and stood in front of him, forcing him to look at her.  She took off her trapezoidal glasses in a calm, easy motion and brushed a wisp of blonde hair out of her face with the back of her hand.  
The only people who take off their glasses for emphasis are people who only wear glasses so they can take them off for emphasis
, Lundin thought uncharitably.  Her vision didn’t seem remotely affected as her blue eyes crinkled away into a smile again.

“I’m glad you’re looking at this so professionally,” she said.  “I know some ‘nauts have unhealthy attitudes about us here on the Civic squad because we don’t ever go into the field.”

“No,” Lundin protested.

“It’s all right, Horace!  I hear the jokes too.”  She looked over her shoulder, then grinned wickedly.  “What’s the war-cry of a Civic rushing into battle?”

Lundin knew exactly what the war-cry of a Civic rushing into battle was, but tilted his head inquisitively.  Dame Dionne raised an imaginary ream of papers over her head and put on a fearsome face.  “Fill these out in triplicate!” she roared.

She laughed.  He laughed. 
Please leave
, he tried desperately to project into her mind as she touched his chest with her fingers, throwing her head back with laughter.  Finally, the waves of her mirth died down, and he cooled down his own forced guffaws at just the right rate to trail off a beat later than she did.

“Don’t let any of the other squads know,” she said, wiping her eyes and putting her glasses back on, “but I’d hazard a guess that Civics have more fun than any other ‘nauts in Delia.”

“Anything’s possible,” Horace nodded, swallowing.

“And I want you to have fun here, Horace.  I know you’re a professional, and that you’ll be getting attention from the Regents themselves from time to time on your magic project.  After all, Petronauts are here to work,” she said with a mock-serious face.  “But I hope that once you’ve been with us for a while, you won’t see your fellow Civics just as people to work with.”  She put both hands on his upper arms and squeezed again.  He looked down into her blue eyes, wide and shining beneath the frames.  “You’ll see us as your family,” she whispered.

Please leave
!

“Thanks, Dame Dionne, thanks, I feel—I feel so welcome.  Really,” Lundin said, one hand reaching up to awkwardly pat her on the wrist.

“Oh, good!” she said, brightly.  She let go of his arms and turned to go.  “If you need any help setting up today, don’t hesitate to ask.  Can you be settled in by tomorrow morning?  I’d love to bring your team in for a full briefing as soon as possible so you can put us in the loop on this wizardry project of yours.”

“Yes.  Wonderful.  I’ll look forward to putting you in the loop.”

She stopped in the doorway, one hand high on the frame, and looked back at him. “I’ll look forward to you putting me in the loop,” Dame Dionne said, a smile playing across the edges of her mouth.  As she walked away, her manicured fingers lingered on the doorframe, trailing behind her body until the hand, too, went out of sight.

Lundin stared after her.  He leaned back against the high work table, wracking his brain for loop-based double entendres he might have unwittingly stumbled into.  His brain came up empty.  “I don’t understand Civics,” he whispered aloud.

“You’ll get used to us,” Martext said, standing in the other doorway with another box from the Recon workshop.  Lundin leapt up.

“Thank you.  I’m, uh—just put it there, I’ll get the rest.  Thank you, Martext.”

“Horace,” the man said, quietly, inclining his head.  He dusted off his hands and glided out of the room again.

Lundin looked up to the high ceiling as beams of cheery sunlight shone down through the skylights.  He looked out across the long array of drills and lathes and machining equipment Dame Dionne had assigned to his exclusive use on his high-profile royal project.  He ran his palm over the smooth, freshly sanded worktable in front of him, and thought back to the pockmarked slabs of wood they’d called tables at the old workshop, and the cluttered wall of well-worn tools, and the musty old shutters that were such a pain to open the place stayed shady as a cave almost year-round, and the rickety stools they’d sat on as they shared beers at the end of work.  Sir Mathias, his huge hands enveloping his stein, shaking his head at Lundin and grinning; Samanthi, snorting happily into her mug before she hurled invective at him; and Sir Kelley—

Sir Kelley, do you have anything more to add?

Kelley looked out at Lundin from the stand, his green eyes flat and unblinking. 
I believe I’ve made my case,
he said, with just a hint of triumph.

Lundin fished through his satchel until he came across the flask.  Samanthi had given it to him a year ago, the fine steel hand-etched with an image of a wet rooster she found amusing for reasons she refused to explain.  Its current contents had been a gift from Sir Mathias.  Lundin stood, listening to the brandy swirling in the flask as his fingertips traced the lines of the design.

“To new beginnings,” he whispered.  The brandy stung on its way down.

Chapter Two

On The Hunt

In Summation, the Board of Governors finds that:

One: being a Petronaut project that has attracted the direct interest of her Royal Highness, Princess Naomi Elizabeth Galidate Haberstorm, Heir to the Delian Throne, the “Mechanized Wizardry” line of research should be pursued with all appropriate resources and speed;

Two: inasmuch as the Reconnaissance squad has a mission of field service, not research, and lacks the designated resources and equipment to carry out the “Mechanized Wizardry” project to the satisfaction of this body, the project must be transferred to the Civil Improvement and Development squad with all prudent haste;

Three: being that Reconnaissance technicians Samanthi Elena and Horace Lundin conceived of the “Mechanized Wizardry” project and have unique and non-transferrable knowledge of its progress to date, one or both of them must travel with the project to provide continuity of research;

Four: whereas Samanthi Elena is the senior technician for the Reconnaissance squad and receives consistently favorable performance assessments from Sirs Kelley and Mathias, junior technician Horace Lundin has a thoroughly, perhaps irredeemably sullied disciplinary record with the squad, having committed infractions against his superiors ranging from the impulsive to the flagrantly malicious, e.g. using an untested technology to cast a magic spell on Sir Kelley for purposes of mental control, as we heard Sir Kelley describe in testimony;

Five: while expulsion from the Petronauts of Delia would normally be an appropriate disciplinary action for such acts of insubordination to his knighted superiors as Horace Lundin has committed, and testimony from Sir Kelley proves that retaining him in the Reconnaissance squad is untenable, his knowledge and vision vis-a-vis the “Mechanized Wizardry” project are instrumental to its successful progress;

We, the Board of Governors of the Petronauts of Delia, are therefore in the happy position to solve two problems with one single action; the reassignment of junior technician Horace Lundin from the Reconnaissance squad to the Civil Improvement and Development squad, effective the twelfth day of Joon, in this year 876.

The “Mechanized Wizardry” project will thrive with one of its founders spearheading research in an appropriately staffed and equipped setting; and, in the absence of Mr. Lundin and the interpersonal friction he caused, the Reconnaissance squad will henceforth enjoy smoother functioning and higher morale...

“I hate you,” Samanthi grumbled.

The Snoop hissed back a steady stream of static in response.  Samanthi rapped her knuckles on the domed lid of the cylindrical machine, exhaling through her teeth.  She turned the pickup knob up higher and adjusted the noise-cancellation sliders, trying to get a handle on the chaotic torrent of sound.  But the static from the surveillance machine only got louder.  She pulled the listening trumpet away from her head, scowling.

“Is it working?” the hapless field agent whispered, her freckled face worried as she look over her shoulder at Samanthi.  The Delian agent was holding the Snoop’s ear awkwardly in both hands, pointing it towards the targets as directed.  The ear was almost a meter wide and looked like a butterfly impaled in a collector’s box, with a long pin—an antenna— extending perpendicular from its center.  The round-tipped antenna drew sound towards itself voraciously, and the two great swooping curves of the ear helped funnel sound from the target through the pin.  The captured sound travelled along the thick cord connecting the ear to the Snoop, where it was processed, filtered, and piped to Samanthi through the listening trumpet.  The effect was like listening with her ear to a door, where the door was upwards of three hundred meters away.