Rogue Ragtime Read online

  "I was admiring the signs," Agra said. He gestured at the fading banners. "I thought it would be a pity if we lost our history because of our pride."

  The woman covered her mouth. "He's a reader," she gasped, sliding behind her partner. "My Dawkins, what if he's a Corsair or an Ara?"

  "Or a Neomer?" Agra said, proposing his adopted hometown as a place of origin. "If you watch the streams, not all of us agree with the direction we've gone since the Cataclysm."

  Fredrick, who was at least four inches shorter than Agra, stepped forward. His stomach protruded and bounced up and down when he moved, and his jowls wobbled when he talked. "Now, look here, sir," he began. "If you were a Neomer like you claim, you'd know how to keep a civil tongue in a discussion. All we were trying to do was encourage a little thoughtfulness before speaking, and you had to go and spit in our beliefs. Why, if the captain hadn't thrown off that harmony encourager, I would—"

  "What?" Agra snapped. "You'd what? Go and have a little cry over the fact that not everyone feels the same way about invading foreign nations? Record a long personal stream about how a black man was a bit uppity to you on a pleasure cruise? Upload it to WhiteyWhineTube and have all your friends leave some audio responses? What?" Agra waved them away and went back to staring at the banners. He could hear Frederick's labored breathing and felt a plump index finger poke his shoulder.

  "Sir?" Agra identified the all too familiar voice of Jetta. "Sir?" Fredrick stopped poking him. Agra pulled at his thickening hair and slowly pivoted. He was interested in observing what Jetta's ferocity appeared like when it was unleashed on someone else.

  "I don't mean to be rude," Jetta continued, "but are you two disrupting this man's harmony?"

  Fredrick and his partner opened and closed their mouths. "Well, no," Fredrick stammered. "We were having a discussion about civility."

  "Um mmm." Jetta nodded, while her left eyebrow arched. She had closed the distance between them and was standing next to Agra. "Civility? Is that what you call arguing with a man who has just lost his friend?"

  "He wasn't arguing—" the woman started.

  "Beatrice, is it?" Jetta said, her interruption flat and pointed. "Well, it seems like you can't keep your voice down anywhere. Not in the dining area and not out here. Is that your gift? Annoying everyone with ears about your research? Gushing on and on about how 'the minorities' can be cultured when white folk aren't guiding them? I hope you continue enjoying your trip because the rest of us aren't." Jetta tapped a finger on the railing. "Naturally, we're all curious about Freddy here. Is there any particular reason you had to bring a physicist with you? Or was he on sabbatical at the perfect time?"

  "You, you …" Beatrice grabbed Fredrick's arm and pulled him away. "You are not worthy of a reply," she said, heading to the hatch. Before the couple forced their way back inside, Agra heard her mumble, "Colonists. The nerve they have. Those people never understand how to mind their own damn business."

  Jetta nudged Agra when they were alone. "Is your team always this high on the strike-first mantra, or do you strategize when I'm not looking?"

  Agra wanted nothing to do with her friendliness. "Why did you demand I come here?" he asked.

  "A woman gets the better of you, and it's suddenly sobriety at the juke box." Jetta raised her hands out of seeming frustration while the wind caught her dress. It was knee-length and ocean-blue with thick, bold lines forming a leaf on the left of it. Compared to her usual oversized attire, it was more flattering and accented her hourglass figure. Junko's irate face loomed in front of Agra as he imagined sliding his hands under Jetta's hem and discovering how her curves responded to his touch. He did not know where the images were coming from but wished they would stop.

  "You're looking again," Jetta said. She pulled at her bust line. "It's not that tight. If it makes things go faster, we can go back there and bang it out. I'm not going to complain. You're easy on the eyes, and probably a snack in the sack too."

  Agra shook his head, irritated with himself. "I'm sorry. I'm having a little trou—"

  "You should be. No-one likes an ogling, even me—and I'm a Corsair. But I asked for your help knowing some weird crap was bouncing around in your head. So, here we are."

  Agra forced his gaze upwards and into her color-shifting eyes. "Thank you, I guess."

  "Eh," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "No easy way through loss. You should be back in your cabin dealing with your pain, but I can't have that. I need you." A faint wind blew her hair backward, revealing her burgundy lips. Agra compelled himself to think of Junko as Jetta continued, "I need you to interview the crew. You're friends with them, and I'm a con artist. You can imagine how far my questions would go."

  "That's it?" Agra asked, still struggling to keep his focus above her neckline. "You threatened me so I would interrogate a few crew members? You could've simply asked."

  "Says everyone after they have no choice." Jetta paused and then lowered her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm under a lot of pressure, and I might've come on a bit strong."

  Agra winced, trying not to agree with her. He could not determine who was the real Jetta: the sloppy imagination lover, enchanting seductress, philosophical widow, snappy commander, witty partner in crime or all of them combined. He had to keep remembering she lied constantly. That was what her file had said. Except the records were sometimes wrong. They said Junko was a consummate professional, putting the mission above anything else. If that was true, why did Agra and her end up in bed every time they met?

  "Hey …" Jetta snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Don't fall into despair yet. What do you think? Can we start again?" She stuck out her hand.

  Agra scratched the back of his head. If all he had to do was talk to the crew, what was the harm? And a little activity might give him the space to deal with Steh's death. Or, at least, allow him to sort through his jumbled feelings for Jetta before he met Junko in Ras Al Khaimah.

  He reached out and grasped Jetta’s offered hand. "I'm sorry I ogled you," he said.

  "Apology accepted. I don't mind you being attracted to me. That's fine. It's the cowardice of leering I hate. If you want to have me, be brave and ask. We're Corsairs. Anything's tradable for the right price." She winked at him.

  Agra could not stop a faint blush from rising to his cheeks but managed to keep his expression neutral. "Uh huh," he said. "What did you want to show me?"

  Jetta inspected the area around them. Despite the blue skies and warm breeze, no-one else had come out onto the walkway. Agra assumed the passengers' fear that they might trip and fall through the force field was keeping them inside.

  "Alright," she said. "I would've preferred to do this at night, but we don't have much time." She reached out and touched the field. It lit up like it usually did. "That's what you expect, right?"

  Agra nodded curtly, refusing to be drawn into the theatrics.

  "And now … magic!" She tossed a pebble; it flew straight through the shield. Jetta held her hands up. "Ta da!" She flicked another pebble and then another one. "Ta da?"

  "So, you could be the murderer," Agra said.

  "Murderess," Jetta countered. "Would you believe my theory if I said I was?"

  "No. How does this help us? We both know there has to be some technology to deactivate the field. How else could Steh have committed suicide?"

  Jetta shook her hands exasperatingly at Agra. "Nothing in your file says you're this obtuse." She flicked one more pebble. "I can't believe I have to start from step zero, but fine. You know how to read the tides of power, right?" Agra nodded. "So, you understand how well this shield was summoned?"

  "To an extent. And I'm impressed with your stone-throwing skills as well. I am. But if you can do it, then other people can. Steh was—"

  "Here." Jetta shoved a pebble into Agra's hand. "Prove your worth and tell me what it is."

  Agra rolled the small stone around his palm. There was something fundamentally off about its texture. It was
smooth but smooth in the sense that it had no roughness because it did not exist in this universe. It rested not on his fingers but in them, held only by the passive magic coursing through his veins. He doubted Tath would have been able to grasp the stone. It would have fallen through her fingers and kept tumbling until it had connected with something emanating magical power. He wished Steh could have seen it. His friend, late friend, would have spent his remaining nights on the Nucia deconstructing its very essence.

  "It's a void rock," Agra finally said. "At least, I assume it is. No-one's ever given me an interdimensional stone before."

  "Got it in one," Jetta confirmed. "You weren't completely blustering about your magical knowledge in those messages to Junko." She reached out and touched the barrier, closing her eyes as she did. A flicker of awe and humility crossed her face. "You have to understand nothing can pass through this shield. If magic was an art, this is a Michelangelo-level spell. Its subtlety is undeniable; its finesse is unquestionable. Someone very skilled, and very lovingly, cast this."

  As Agra followed Jetta's lead and touched the safeguard, he finally forgot about her. Magic was supposed to be a science … not an art. And definitely not a spiritual experience. Yet the way the three tides of power—nature, elemental and celestial—played and warbled as they skipped from one place to another in the barrier felt more akin to a concert than the lifeless crackle he had expected. No machine nor chemical could pass through the shield because it would discover them and nullify their presence in real time. The barrier was alive and bursting with sentience. The only way to circumvent it would be with an equally aware organism, a magical predator. "Void magic," he whispered. "Someone can use void magic."

  Jetta patted him on the back. "Not your mage though. Starfires are celestial, if they can control their power at all."

  Agra snapped himself out of his reverie and pulled back. "You bought those pebbles—"

  "At three thousand credits a pop." Jetta lifted one eyebrow. "Stehlan would have needed at least twenty of these to create enough of a gap. How rich is your group, again?"

  Agra could not finish his argument. There was no possible way Steh could have spent so vast a sum of money on a suicide plan without Tath noticing. She checked their accounts religiously to ensure none of the group had gone on an "accidental" spending-spree, especially Steh with his skin-grafting upgrades. "He could have stashed away a million credits from his inventor days," Agra said half-jokingly.

  Jetta leaned over the railing and threw the rest of her pebbles into the sky. They went through the shield and then arced toward the earth. "I'm sorry your friend is dead," she said. "Whatever he did in the past as an inventor was not his fault. He was a boy when he created the Doom Blade. How was he supposed to know what the Neomer Parliament wanted it for? Fuck them Grinners, amirite?"

  Agra slumped next to her. "You think he was murdered for his part in the Cuban genocide?"

  "I haven't got a better theory. No-one knew he was a Starfire, right? Not even your friends."

  "Well, we had an incident recently," Agra replied. "I mean, I had suspicions, but Tath doesn't believe he's one. And … dammit … I don't know. If he was a Starfire, why didn't he tell us? He knew we would've accepted him for whoever, or whatever, he was."

  Jetta laughed. It had a crystal-like warmth to it and was full of life and possibility of what might be. "I could fall in love with you," she said. She stepped on one of the lower rails and pecked him on the cheek, her long hair fluttering in the breeze. "Sorry," she said, bouncing back onto the gangplank. "You're already taken. I know."

  Agra cleared his throat and tried to ignore his racing heart. "You said this was to be a strict Corsair exchange."

  "I did. Again, I'm sorry."

  "So, you want me to talk to the crew about someone who can use void magic."

  "Yes. Although, if there was a Navigator travelling on this gasbag, our hunt would be much easier."

  Agra chuckled at her comment. "I don't think Elia is going to let an interdimensional assassin on her precious Nucia. Let's just focus on finding the miffed sorcerer."

  9:37pm: Junko [Channel 37A4R]

  Not sure why you're having a party so soon after a friend committed suicide. WTF is wrong with your group? (¬_¬)

  Anyway, I doubt Steh was a Starfire. Even the worst of them can teleport, and despite his celestial powers, he couldn't open a portal. Sorry, Az. That sucks. (>__<)

  Thurs, 23 Oct 65 P.C.T., 3:49pm: Junko [Channel 37A4R]

  I know you're still grieving, but I have some news for you. Good news! We're looking for the same Navigator. So, once you get here, we can team up and solve the problem together. And maybe … y'know …

  Eighteen: The Fury

  TATH FELT THE wind pull her curls to the left and then swing them back to the right. She blew at them, annoyed her recent cut was proving too long for gusty conditions. After hooking her arm around a metal rung, she peered down to see how far she had come: a long way, apparently. From her position, she could no longer spot the walkway or windows of Nucia, only the curve of the balloon.

  "I'm in shock?" she mumbled into the oxygen mask Steh had made for the group to transverse high altitudes. "Have a cold shower? Who does Elia think she is? My fucking mom?" Tath moved her wooden, pre-Steh longbow into a more secure position on her back. "Who does she think I am? A drunken sailor desperate for a merman?" She stared upward. The top was only twenty or so more rungs away, but her left leg screamed in agony. With a circumspect shrug, she adjusted her quiver so it did not tilt too far in any direction. Steh's "medical" assessment had proved undesirably accurate.

  "You think you can hide him, Elia?" she said, grabbing the next rung. "I'll take your fucking soul apart to find Steh if I have to."

  At the summit of her climb, the sun's rays tore into Tath's body. Even though it was heading toward dusk, their heat punctured her skin and spread warmth under its surface—reminding Tath how numb she had felt when the news of Steh's death had broken. She paused to let the glow soak in and ignite her frozen limbs.

  The sky's blueness stretched endlessly. Its hue shaded the world with a lightness she had only seen in Agra's imaginations. For a moment, she had a doubt: what if Steh really was dead. What if, despite everything, she had not been able to keep her friends safe? What if Elia, and the woman coiling her tentacles around Agra, had been telling the truth?

  Tath shook the thoughts away as she bounced up and down in the crow's nest to loosen her limbs up. They had to be lying. She was the salvation empress. No-one died on her watch. No-one was allowed to.

  "The crowd goes silent," she said, pulling out one of the homing arrows she had bought a few days ago. It had a cylindrical end with spikes sticking out of it. As Tath moved it through the air while readying her shot, the arrowhead spun slightly. "The announcers let them know who is next," she said, beginning to imitate a sports streamer. "Ladies and gentlefolk, here comes the champion archer for Deroi. The goddess of strings, the queen of the shaft. She takes aim, her focus unbreakable." Tath breathed in and pulled back. Calculations flittered through her mind; a dozen outcomes played out as she made some minor adjustments to her angle. She let the string go. The arrow arced gracefully as its tip spun quicker and quicker, forcing it down and into a curve. "Perfect, as always," she whispered in her normal voice. "Except when it counts."

  Tath took her bow, her one-and-only birthday present from her father, and snapped it in half on her leg. The wood made a satisfying crack. "You can come out now, Steh," she yelled. "You can stop hiding in Elia's cabin. Steh or Stehlan, I don't fucking care. Come as you are. Come as you be." She slumped onto the floor of the lookout and yanked off her quiver. "Goddamn it. I want to hear your voice one more time. Tell me we don't die alone. Tell me we're going to be free from Ristie's curse."

  A thud interrupted Tath. Her arrow lay at her feet while a shadow ate up the heat of the sun. She glanced up; Elia stood on the other side of the nest. Neither the uneven surface nor the wind ap
peared to bother her. The captain's clothes did not flutter and her feet appeared to be trunks growing out of the balloon. Her grey eyes had a bitterness to them.

  "Ya be pressing yar fortune, lass," Elia said.

  "Good on you for assuming I have something left to press," Tath said. "That's a big-ass assumption these days, bigger than the magnificent booty I own."

  "I be having a vessel to run and ain't be having time to deal with tantrums and the like. I been listening to yar delusions, I be giving ya an open bar and been letting ya strut around in fabric the size of me hand, but ya be burning all me kindness to the ground. Can't be telling which fool be worse, Meagh or yarself."

  "I know you're lying," Tath replied. "Steh wasn't suicidal. He wouldn't have done it. He couldn't have."

  "Ya never be knowing, lass." Elia sat next to Tath. Once more, Tath could feel the sun's rays crash against the chill etched throughout her frame. "Sometimes the closest be the ones furthest away," Elia finished.

  "I'm not talking about it with you. You let him die. You knew he was smart. You knew he could invent anything."

  "Aye, that being on me," the captain agreed. "Didn't be thinking people's passions through enough. But ya be having a girl down there who be loving ya more than all the poets seeing a woman on the first day of snowfall. Seems like ya be wasting her blossoming for this here pity party." Elia paused and stared at the slowly approaching night. "We ain't responsible for others' devils."

  Tath felt the last of her strength dissipate, and she fell back against the circular fence around the nest. "You don't understand," she said. "I am responsible. I was the one who suggested we go to Ristie's. I was the one who convinced Mea and Steh to join us. They hadn't been in our town for more than a day. Truth be told, I didn't even want to do it." Tath rolled her head to the side and looked at Elia from an angle. "My dad asked me to. All I had to do was stand up to him. How many people have I killed because I couldn't tell my father to fuck off?"