Chapter Twelve

Jik and Far Ranger

 

The city of Wilberville on the Planet Kasperan: Fifteen Standard Years Previous

 

 

The Golden Newt dropped out of alter-space between one thought and the next and eased into orbit above the planet Kasperan, all its sensors active. Red Moon sat Second Chair in Navigation, watching everything, both incoming and outgoing, as the data rolled across her screens. The Newt was broadcasting their current identity, the SS Ulysses. Captain Luca had papers documenting that identity along with a dozen others hidden in the smuggler’s hole carved out of one of the lower decks.

They called her Draggo on this ship, but mostly they just called her Boy. It had been almost 500 Standard years since her people were murdered but she had only been awake for 330 of those years. It seemed like an eternity.

The robotic satellite gave them a lane assignment—First-In. Luca never opted for First-In. Red Moon touched that info and shot it over to Argai’s screen. The Scerron navigator hissed and passed it on to Luca.

“You know the drill. Slow us down and bring us in high polar,” Luca said over their headsets. “I want to see who is in port before I put my tail in the dirt.”

Red Moon got on the line with the Kasperan air-control and gave excuses to the space port command. That got them a Fourth-In. She shot that over to Argai’s screen while she studied the other ship ID’s that orbited the planet. Too big to land, these ships sent shuttles between ship and planet. They also carried armor and artillery. It was always best to give them a wide berth. Red Moon shot the list over to Luca. “They are all Royalists,” she said in his ear. “I think the war has finally come out into the hinter-stars.”

“Shit,” breathed Luca. He was Ganterran. The tall, rough-skinned lizard did not like conflict preferring to flee over the alternative. “A pirate can barely make a living these days. Everyone will be trigger happy. We gotta play this one close to the chest.”

Red Moon grunted. She was busy studying the ID of all the other ships in port, looking for anything that was out of place. It all looked ordinary but her gut was telling her different.

“I don’t like it,” she said in Luca’s ear.

“I hear ya. We get down, we do our business and we get out. Time to change our ID out in the Deep Dark and ply our trade further out.”

That meant someone would have to space-walk and repaint the numbers on the side of the ship. Not her, thanks be to all the gods. Being small had its advantages.

“Draggo. You got time to run an op out into the city,” Luca said. “Find out what is going on. Pick up intel so we know which way to jump if things go tit’s up.”

“Aye, captain,” Red Moon said.

“Keep it black and dark but make it quick. I will leave you behind if you are not back by the time we lift.”

“Aye, Captain,” she said, tossing her headgear onto the console and making her way to her bunk. Stripping down to shears, she discarded her ship silks for civvies—an unremarkable black shirt and pants in rough cloth that would suck down the light and turn her into shadow in the right light. A scarlet neck-scarf to tie around her neck, a fake ID in her pocket, a half-dozen knives secreted in sleeves, collars, and shoes, and she was ready. She shoved her puff-ball hair into a watch cap. It barely fit. Time to get her head shaved again when she got back. Racing through the ship, she dropped down a ladder into the cargo hold.

“You ready?” Matty, the gray feline asked as he swung the fake lid of the cargo canister open and tossed her a breather. Red Moon strapped it to her face and slid into the tight space. More advantages to being small: The crew on this ship tended towards the big and burly type. She was the only one who fit into the canister, perfect for smuggling herself unobserved onto the planet. The canister was shielded and any scan would produce a readout that matched the bill of lading. Matty handed her the monitor that was connected to the can’s program. With it she could see out as well as alter what was seen in by the scanners.

 

* * * *

 

Dirt-side, Red Moon watched her monitor. When the dock crews moved away, she keyed open the lid, eased out of the canister, unplugged the monitor, and shoved it into the pannier on her belt, effectively transforming the can from a high-tech transport into an empty container. Landing on the pavement with her soft-soled shoes, she ducked down and made her way to the shadows cast by the underbelly of the Newt. From there it was just a matter of getting across the pavement to the high fence around the Port.

She closed her eyes and found every mind around her. Taliba had called it listening to the Oneverse. Red Moon doubted this was what she meant. Taliba was human. Magic was a learned skill. Red Moon was Ancellian. This thing the humans called magic was merely an innate skill-set. Truth be told, without an Ancellian teacher, she had no way of knowing what was extraordinary and what was normal. She remembered that Taliba got vague messages out of the Oneverse. Red Moon got visions as clear as if a camera link was inside her head.

When the landing crew personnel were all looking away, she raced across the tarmac to the fence. Her fingers did not fit in the fine mesh so she used a fence-post and scaled it on fingers and toes, pausing at the top and then flipping off the top of the post into the grassy verge beyond.

This was the human city called Wilburville. It existed only to serve the needs of the crews of the star ships. One could buy anything in Wilburville. Anything.

Her first stop was the gypsy fortune-teller's kiosk just outside the space port gates. Though it was late at night, the light still flickered over the sign that listed the services offered within. Red Moon slipped through the curtains that served as a door. Ertria looked up. “Ah, I knew you were coming. The cards have been telling me that for days.”

“Mother Ertria,” Red Moon said, touching her forehead. “What do you have to tell me?”

“No news of the boy called Harbinger and none matching that description.”

“And the other?”

“The Royalist army is entrenching themselves around the city as we speak. Can the Rebel army not be far behind? No one has asked about you. I think finding one small pirate child is low on their list of things to do.”

Red Moon nodded. “Tell me all the gossip,” she said, sitting in the only other chair in the kiosk.

Ertria talked. Red Moon let her go on until she ran out of words.

“And the Wizards?” Red Moon asked. “Are there no rumors of Wizards here?”

“Far Ranger is the Royalist general. His word is the law now. But he is surrounded by his own personal guards because the Wizards send assassins to kill him, I have heard.”

Red Moon grunted and took out a credit voucher, sliding it across the table. “Stay safe, Mother,” Red Moon said, rising.

Ertria caught at her hand, staying her. “I understand why you must kill them but it is a dangerous game you play. You are just one small witch and they are legion. The Oneverse is descending into chaos and it cares little for the broken heart of a gypsy girl with a taste for vengeance.”

Red Moon looked away. She had told Ertria a cover story that was much like her own, changing Taliba’s name and the name of the planet and the fact that the story was 250 years old. “I cannot close my eyes without seeing her die.”

“All the death in the Oneverse will not erase that,” Ertria said softly.

“No? Perhaps not. But I have to try,” Red Moon said, turning to go.

Her next stop was a pub called the Leaky Beaver. Uthric was manning the bar. She sat on the end stool and he brought over a pint of ale. “The Royals are a nosy lot. You best drink that and then make yourself scarce.”

“What you know about the Royals?” she asked.

Uthric told her much. After he ran out of information she asked the thing that most wanted answering.

“Where does Far Ranger sleep these days? He keep to his command ship up in orbit or does he sleep dirtside with his men?”

“What you want to know that for?” Uthric asked suspiciously.

“Maybe I want to enlist,” Red Moon snorted, finishing her beer.

Uthric laughed. He gave her a location then he studied her, frowning. “Is Luca pissed off about all the soldiers getting into his business?”

“You know him. He’d rather run than fight. I might not be seeing you again for a while.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. I like you.”

“I like you, too, Uthric,” she said as she slid a credit voucher across the bar. Uthric scanned the bar and then pocketed it when no one was looking.

She went in search of Far Ranger. If one were to catch flies one should go where the honey was.

Climbing the side of a building using the groove used by the robotic window washer as a finger-hold, she made her way over the rooftops to the edge of the Royalist encampment. There, she tied the scarf over her lower face and waited upon the eaves of the building across from the Far Ranger’s headquarters. If she were planning this, if she were going to assassinate the leader of the Royalist resistance, this would be where the attack would begin.

Things were shifting in the Oneverse. She could feel it pressing in on her. Suspicion and anxiety made her reach into her pannier and pull out the monitor. It began to vibrate before she could even push a button. A message popped up on the screen. “Rabbiting. You got ten minutes.”

“Shit!” she breathed. She typed her response. “Wait. I am twenty minutes out.”

There was a pause. “Sorry, boy.”

Red Moon starred at the words, rage warring with panic. The roar of a ship rising from port brought her eyes around. It was the Newt. Ground fire popped off her armor. Luca responded by doing the illegal. He ignited his aft-burners, lighting up the sky over the port and the buildings beyond. In the next moment, the Newt was gone, its engines burning an after-image on the backs of her eyes.

Stranded. Ear-less bastard! She would never see Luca or Matty or Argai again. They could never make this port-of-call after a stunt like that. It was time to find another ship. Red Moon rose from her hiding place, intent on returning to the Leaky Beaver. A head ducked down on the adjoining roof. She had company up here. Red Moon froze, and then slowly turned. Something shifted behind a vent stack. Shit! She was surrounded. Human, the Oneverse told her, not Wizard, thanks be to all the gods. Probably Far Ranger's men. She spun around looking for the best escape route.

Red Moon took a step away from the edge and got no further. Hissing in pain, she clutched her head and fell to her knees as jagged black lightning arced across her vision. She blinked to clear her sight and looked down. A ripple in the fabric of the world began half way down the alley. Gritting her teeth, she rode the pain, taking shallow breaths until, in a climax of agony, the ripple became a tear and three Wizards stepped through. Red Moon shuddered as the pain passed and the ache of the Wizard presence replaced it. She did not need to see those awful eyes. She could feel them. Something vile and evil clung to them like the stink of offal.

Checking the rooftops around her for her stalkers, Red Moon dropped silently to the ground and followed after dark figures with the golden crowns embedded in the bones of their skulls.

They were dressed much as she was, in dark cloth and soft-soled shoes. Silent and deadly, they slid from shadow to shadow, working their way toward the heart of the encampment.

Red Moon followed, all her attention on the beings in front of her. She was light of foot. It was easy to run silently. Under the cover of an inky shadow, she leaped upon the last Wizard in line, slipping the garrote around its throat, the fine steel wire cutting through the flesh of the neck with one quick, efficient motion. It dropped like a stone. While it was healing itself in the alter-plain she burned out its eyes with a surge of witch's fire. The stone eyes shattered with a soft pop. Dancing over the top of the body, she ran after the next one. The dead Wizard was not dead, per se, but the body was finished. Now a wraith, it would slide around the corners of the Netherworld and return to its base to grow a new avatar.

The two remaining Wizards had widened the distance between her and them. The leader slid silently up behind one of the guards around the headquarters building and pulled a long knife from a dimensional pocket in its side. Red Moon put two blades into his throat from thirty feet away. It would slow him down while she killed the second. With a running leap, she crawled up the second’s back, grabbed his head and leaped away, twisting. The neck snapped. She paused to burn out the eyes as it struggled to rise, its head dangling from its shoulders.

Alarms began to ring all around her. The remaining Wizard pulled her knives from its throat, tossed them aside, and attacked the guard. The guard had his sidearm out and managed to get a round off into the Wizard’s heart before the Wizard rammed his own blade into the guard's chest. The human dropped like a stone. A rookie mistake. Wizards had no hearts. Another soldier pulled his long blade and stabbed the Wizard in the back. The Wizard, moving impossibly fast, turned and grabbed his assailant by the throat.

All the elements of surprise were gone. She roared and charged it. The Wizard lifted the soldier by the neck and used the body as a shield.

“Get out of the way!” she snapped angrily as she crawled up the man’s back. She grabbed the Wizard’s thumbs and broke them. The Wizard let go and the soldier jerked away. Red Moon, clinging to his back, could not jump free in time and went tumbling, tangled in the soldier’s limbs.

Cursing, Red Moon tried to roll clear of the man but he put an arm around her throat and jerked her back against him as he took aim at the Wizard with his pistol. Red Moon elbowed him in the jaw, spoiled his aim, slipped out of his grip, losing cap and scarf in the process, and scrambled after the Wizard, who seemed intent on gaining the door to Far Ranger’s quarters.

Then the Wizard did something totally out of character. It paused, looked back at her, meeting her eyes with those awful black stones, a curious look on his face.

“You,” the Wizard said.

Red Moon froze. They had never done that before. None of the Wizards she had killed had ever looked at her with any form of recognition.

“Me?”

“I know you. You are Harbinger’s Child.”

“What? What did you say?” she said, unable to breathe.

Someone stepped up behind the Wizard and decapitated it with a sword.

“Noooo!” Red Moon screamed in fury, leaping towards the head as it toppled to the ground. She had to dodge back as a dark-skinned man with the sword pulled his sidearm and shot out the eyes with incendiary rounds. Fury washed her vision red. Ignoring sword and pistol, she launched herself at this soldier’s head, thinking to strangle him. He deflected her hands and caught her forearms. Instead of jerking away, she pistoned her hands into his chest. The man fell backwards, dragging her with him. All she could do was struggle in his grip, her fury unbound. “Are you out of your mind?” she screamed. “He was talking to me. Harbinger, he said. Do you know how many I have had to kill to get this response?”

Someone grabbed her around the throat and pulled her off him.

“Bring him,” the man with the sword said as he rose. He sliced the air with his blade. The move was so fast all the blood on his weapon went spinning off. He inspected it. Satisfied, he sheathed it, turned on his heel, and went back into the command center.

That was how Red Moon found herself in an interrogation room, cuffed to a chair, the contents of her pockets spread out on the table in front of her. They had found all the knives and the garrottes. They even retrieved her knives from the Wizard bodies. The watch cap and scarf had been gathered up and now lay there as well. Her hair was in impossible disarray from having them run their fingers over her scalp looking for more garrotes and blades. The pat-down had been thorough. Enough to tell them she had no breasts and no external genitalia. One of the guards took Luca’s monitor and left with it.

They had asked all sorts of questions as they searched her. They left nothing to chance, taking blood and thumb prints as well. She said nothing. They were going to run DNA tests. That had her worried. She was fairly certain no Ancellian DNA records were left anywhere in know space. The Rebels had been very thorough about erasing the official records pertaining to the existence of her species. She did have a criminal record on half a dozen planets spread out across the galaxy, being part of a half dozen crews known for their penchant for piracy. She also was known as a thief and con-man on a dozen more worlds but no one had ever bothered to record her genetic data. Until now.

They found her ID. Jik Don Pu, they called her now. Jik was from a planet called Herndin Four, a place inhabited by the Bhrintons, the descendants of the asexual mer—a Second People—thus explaining the lack of external genitalia. It was a convenient cover. Most people knew almost nothing about that part of the galaxy, so she could lie with impunity and no one would question her answers.

The dark-skinned man who had killed the last Wizard came into the room and sat across from her. His sword was no longer hanging from his belt. Just as well. She was still angry enough to take it away from him and decapitate him. See how he liked that.

“Jik, you wanna tell me what you were doing in my base camp?”

Red Moon glared at him. One of the guards slapped the back of her head.

“The general asked you a question.”

Red Moon stared at the man across from her. So. This was Far Ranger. His black eyes studied her intently. It was as if she were naked.

“Hunting,” Red Moon said.

“Hunting what?”

Red Moon gave him a look. “Bunny rabbits. What did it look like I was hunting?”

The guard behind her slapped the back of her head again. Not hard. Just enough to remind her to mind her manners. She snarled at him.

“So you were hunting Wizards. Why here?”

“I heard down by the port that the Rebels were sending assassins to kill you. I figured you were my bait. Waited for them to show up. Kill the killers.”

“You were waiting in exactly the right place. How did you know they would come out of the Void there?”

Red Moon shrugged. “That was where I would have come out if I were trying to kill you. You gotta learn to think like them if you are going to bag your prize.”

“And you think you know Wizards? Educate me,” Far Ranger said, crossing his well-muscled arms over his broad chest. This was no soft leader who chose to rule from behind a desk. She would be wise not to underestimate him.

She studied him from under her mop of hair and then shrugged. “You are a target. You know they are coming for you, so you would have made preparations. Guards with swords or long knives. Pistols with incendiary rounds. A Rift-detector to warn you when they step into the world.”

One of the men behind her cursed. “How does he know about that?”

Red Moon shrugged. “I have heard rumors.” She was not going to tell them that fifteen seconds after that Rift-detector had gone into production, Luca had been given a standing order to acquire one for every rich client on his list.

“We didn’t find a Rift-detector on you,” Far Ranger observed.

“I wouldn’t need one, would I.”

“Because you are that good, huh?” he said sarcastically. “Because you know how to think like a Wizard?”

“Assassins are all the same, magical or not,” she said with another shrug.

Far Ranger stared at her. He was a smart man. He understood the hidden meaning behind that sentence. She was telling him she was an assassin and a witch.

“How many Wizards have you killed?”

“A hundred,” she said. “Two hundred maybe. I have not been keeping track.”

“Liar!” one of Far Ranger’s aides said.

Red Moon glared at him. He was the one she had saved. “I don't see any notches on your belt, dirt-sider. You would be a corpse-sicle if not for me.” She turned back to the swordsman. “You can thank me later. I got somewhere to be. Give me back my stuff and I will be on my way.”

“You got nowhere to be. We cracked the security on your monitor. Luca left you high and dry.”

Red Moon glared at him.

“What is a harbinger?”

Red Moon shuddered and looked away. “So. You heard that part.”

“Why were the Wizards talking to you about harbinger?” he insisted.

She did not want to talk about it. The pain of that memory was unbearable.

“What is harbinger? Are you a rebel spy? Is harbinger the name of your op?”

“Why would I . . .” she snapped angrily before biting off the words. She took a big breath. “I killed the Wizard assassins sent to kill you,” she reminded him acidly. “A thank you might be nice.”

“It could have been a ruse to get us to trust you,” one of the aides suggested.

“Wow. Brilliant,” she sneered. “You caught me.” She turned back to Far Ranger. “Give me back my junk and let me go. I need to get back to port to drum up a ride.”

“Tell me about harbinger and I will let you go. Is Harbinger the name of a Wizard?”

That was a crazy idea but it made her pause. No. Surely not. Harbinger was lost out on the edge of the Deep Dark. Wasn’t he? She tried to imagine him with stone black eyes and a crown of gold wire. No, no, no. It could not be. Her breathe caught in her chest, choking her.

“Who is Harbinger?” Far Ranger insisted.

Red Moon looked up at him, trying to suppress the pain that was coming near to blinding her. “I was starting to doubt my memories,” Red Moon said softly. “Doubt my sanity. It was so long ago. Now, I cannot even remember the faces of the men who took him. Some days I can’t remember his face. My own cousin who was there from the moment of my birth. Other people have parents, siblings, aunties and uncles. All I had was him. The trail has gone cold. Cold as ice. I was thinking I would never see him again. And then out of the blue, a Wizard said his name.” She looked up into Far Ranger’s eyes and pushed the pain away. Her rage rose once more. “I had a moment of hope, a fragile thing, like a drop of dew on a thread of spider silk and you crushed it. You ripped my heart from my chest and impaled it on your gods-cursed sword. Let me go so I can go home.”

Home. She had no home. The Wizards and the Rebels and the Royals made sure of that.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Far Ranger said gently. “Truly I am. But I have learned to not trust any word that ever fell from a Wizard’s lips. They can get into your head and tell you things that you want to hear. Do not go chasing chimeras, I beg you.”

She could like this man. It would be fatal. Red Moon looked away and grew a skim of ice around her heart. The Wizards knew of Harbinger. That meant they had him. Living or dead. Whole or mutilated. Either way she would have to walk his soul across the Veil. Grief was a black well inside her heart. “I shall not rest until every last one of them is dead,” she whispered.

Far Ranger sighed and scrubbed his palms across his face. He suddenly looked exhausted. “I commend you. We all need goals even if they are impossible. Tell me this. How did you kill the other two Wizards? How did you banish the golem inside them?”

Red Moon looked down at her lap and whispered a prayer. A witchlight formed on the fingers of her cuffed hands and floated up to the ceiling. There were soft exclamations from the other men in the room. Far Ranger shook his head. “So. You are a hedge witch. But witchlight cannot kill. It cannot even burn.”

Red Moon sighed. “In kinder, gentler times, a hedge witch would never invoke the Dark Mother. But I have nothing left to lose. I have found that to be a very dangerous thing.”

She clicked her fingers and a tiny bolt of light melted the chain between the cuffs. She pulled her hands apart.

In the next moment she had a half dozen weapons aimed at her heart. She ignored them and kept her eyes on Far Ranger.

Far Ranger stared at her. “How would you like to come work for me. I can’t pay you but I can promise you all the Wizards you want to kill.”

“You? You are a man with a target on your back,” she scoffed.

“I think that the same could be said for you,” Far Ranger observed. “They know you, now. The Wizard I killed has surely gone back home and told them that Harbinger’s cousin is still alive. They will come hunting you now. If they have Harbinger they have everything he knows. Stay here. I need a body guard. Be my own personal Wizard Killer. I will protect you. You will protect me. It will be a mutual agreement. And maybe someday they will send Harbinger to you. Bait for their own trap. We can be prepared for that and maybe we can rescue him.”

“There is no coming back from being a Wizard. If he is a Wizard, he is lost to me forever.”

“Then fight with me. We can destroy the Rebellion and hunt Wizards until they are erased from the world.”

She stared at him. “There are no more Dragon Lords. The Rebels made sure of that when they killed every Ancellian they could find. You are human. The Rebellion was made for people like you. Why are you a Royalist? What is it that you fight for exactly?”

“When I was a boy the Rebellion descended upon my planet like a plague. Those who did not join the Rebels, who refused to pledge to their cause, were tortured. The lucky ones were burned alive. I was forced to watch while they tortured my parents and grandparents to death. I was young but I knew enough to realize I did not want to join something that would do that to another human being. Do you not feel the noose tightening around your neck as the Rebels force their beliefs upon the lot of us? In the name of Freedom, freedom is being snuffed out like candles. We fight for our very survival. Join us.”

Red Moon stared at him. She could love this human if she let him inside the walls of her heart. She would have to be careful.