At the Barrier

"Are you certain?"

"Completely. I've isolated the frequency and I believe I can duplicate it."

"How is this any different than the last dozen 'breakthroughs' you have tried to sell me on, Torres?"

"Because this time I can measure it."

There were a few moments of silence.

"Well. That is different, isn't it? Start the trials. You have the church's blessing."

"Can I get that in writing? I don't want to end up on the wrong side of-"

"No. You may not. Not until there are real results that I can show them. I will not summon an ecclesiastical hearing for another false lead. The church leaders are far less patient than I am. Besides, you said yourself that the signs are increasing. The stars are going out. And we cannot wait for them. Move ahead with your experiment."

"I won't risk rushing things, Madam. These are delicate-"

"Did you not hear what I just said? We cannot wait. No one else has noticed, not so far as we know. But the most distant stars are gone. Things are escalating. It is our curse to live in these times and have this burden fall upon us. But fall upon us it has, and now we must rise. I will risk it all, to prevent the coming catastrophe. And if I cannot prevent it, to save as many people as I can. Do you understand, Torres?"

He didn't reply. The silence stretched.

"The stars are going out," she repeated. "And we are running out of time."

****

"You're happy to get to Eldorado?"

Sasha smiled, resettling her bag over her shoulder.

"Can't wait to get on the ground again," she chirped, "anyway, I've never seen Eldorado before."

She was not surprised to see the incredulous expression on the pilot's face as he glanced over his shoulder at her. The trip from Skry to Eldorado had just been Sasha, Brook, and his co-pilot, Rikkard, a taciturn older man who had spent most of the trip taking apart and rebuilding the back-up lander. Not that they would need it. Brook and Rikkard weren't going anywhere near the ground on this trip. They would be dropping her off at the Space Port orbiting the planet, rather than risk being stuck in their own quarantine for the next week.

"You aren't missing much," the young man said flatly, before turning on what Sasha was sure he imagined to be his charming voice. He'd been trying it on her for most of the trip, to no avail. "You should stay here. Or anywhere else other than Eldorado. Why, I would fly you to the edge of known space if that was what you wanted."

Sasha just kept smiling as she shook her head.

"I've had quite enough Starfall to last me awhile, Brook," she said with a laugh.

The feeling of being in real space again had her giddy after a few days of the emptiness of Starfall. She'd spent most of the trip quietly nursing a dull but persistent headache. Brook, not understanding, had taken it as his personal mission to cheer her up. He seemed perplexed now by the cheerful woman who had replaced his taciturn passenger. Maybe he thought his flirting would be more welcome now. Sasha didn't take it personally. She suspected flirting was a way of life for Brook. It had very little to do with her. She reached over and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"You have been a magnificent host, truly. But I have work to do."

"Well then," he said, sighing theatrically, "I shall be resigned to your absence."

She rolled her eyes, glad he couldn't see her face. The approach to the Space Port required the rest of his attention.

It took another hour to dock at the Space Port, and a half an hour after that before she could secure passage on one of the shuttles down to the surface. It was early, only shortly after dawn at the Landing Docks on Eldorado when she arrived. She settled her bag on the floor for a moment, using a public information kiosk to access a station map. Her finger skipped over the blue lines, finding bay 6-D. Red lines pulsed on the screen, marking off the refugee camp, warning people away. Tilting her head slightly, she traced the perimeter of it, trying to get a better idea of the scope. They could easily keep ten thousand people in the area they had cordoned off, she realized. Much more than the few thousand who had so far been discovered. She nodded to herself, satisfied. At least whomever was in charge of things had prepared for that possibility. If there were more of them, they wouldn't be stacked cheek to jowl.

Hefting the bag, she started heading toward docking bay 6-D. The Landing Dock was relatively quiet this time of day, and she wondered if the crew of the Star Stealer were even awake yet. She debated in her head what she should do as she walked, chewing on her lower lip. See if they were awake? What if she woke them up? That would be a bad way to start everything off. They were her contacts here and she'd be staying with them on their ship for at least a week, not counting returning to Skry when the time came. Abbott Tobias had told her that the Captain was an old friend of his, but she wasn't an old friend of Sasha's, and she had her doubts about that claim anyway. In truth, an hour past dawn on any planet wasn't hideously early, but by the time she reached the hallway she needed, Sasha had convinced herself that the crew would be furious at her for waking them up. Instead of making the left to reach 6-D, she made a right.

Immediately, she felt better. The tension and anxiety eased, telling her that she had made the right decision. Maybe not for the right reasons, she thought sheepishly, but that hardly mattered. It was always a struggle, trying to sort out what was unfounded anxiety and what was the Universe guiding her steps. She didn't always get it right. But at least this time, no harm would come of it. Even if she was wrong and they were already up, meeting them in a few hours instead of right now wouldn't change anything.

Besides, she was here primarily for the refugees, she thought to herself. It made sense to get a general feel for things first. There would be someone there already up and about, she reasoned.

She wasn't disappointed. As she approached the barrier, she looked curiously over the pair of soldiers guarding the gate. A pair of armed soldiers, she realized with some vague surprise. As she drew closer, they straightened slightly, one stepping forward to block her path.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. No entry beyond this point, except for official personnel."

Sasha smiled brightly. "I am official personnel. At least, I'm going to be."

The soldier looked her over dubiously. "I highly doubt that ma'am."

She shook her head, letting her bag fall from her shoulder with a thud. "No, really." She drew herself up, putting the full weight of her training behind her. "My name is Sasha Caleb, and I have been sent by the Skry Abbey to aid here however I can."

The two soldiers exchanged glances.

"No entry beyond this point, begging your pardon ma'am, means no entry beyond this point. Not without official clearance."

She looked at him, nonplussed. "But didn't you hear what I just said? I'm a Mage of-"

"Frankly ma'am, I don't care if you are the bleeding Father Justice of the Church. You aren't getting in here without official clearance. Send a message through government channels, and I am certain someone will get back to you."

Sasha shook her head, frowning and gesturing toward the barrier. "What if you let me speak to your superior officer? Who's in charge?" A Mage rarely needed permission to become involved in a project, especially one that was sanctioned by the Church. "Who is the highest church official here? Let me speak to them and I can-"

"You aren't listening to me," he interrupted, "You. Need. Clearance. Right now, you don't have it. I can't let you in so you can get clearance to come in."

"But if you'll just-"

"I'm sorry Miss, but you can't come in here,"

The new voice startled her. She'd been so focused on who she was talking to, that she hadn't noticed the arrival of someone from inside the compound. That was startling in and of itself. But the man who was walking toward her was familiar, and someone she never thought she'd see again. She waited while he stepped over the barrier before starting again.

"No, I'm sorry, but you don't understand," she said earnestly. "I'm here to help. I'm-"

She paused for a moment as she took in the neutral expression on his face. Sasha knew that she had a knack for remembering people and faces. She also knew that she had changed more in the last few years than he had. Oh, he was older. There was premature grey just around his temples. She didn't expect him to remember her. They had met briefly and in uncomfortable circumstances. But still, she might have hoped. She always did.

"You don't remember me, Lieutenant Gates," she said abruptly. That got his attention. "But we've met before. My name is Sasha. I'm not rabble trying to get in to a restricted area. I've been sent here to help by my Abbey, and I won't leave until I have some assurance that I will not have to jump through a dozen bureaucratic hoops that will take months, before I am allowed to do what I came here too do."

He just stared at her through all of that, eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to see something through her words, suspicion written all over his face for the span of several heartbeats.

"Sasha Caleb, the student-Mage from Adeline Abbey," he said slowly, looking her up and down.
 Surprise registered on his face, but he quickly shuffled it off again.

"Yes," she replied stiffly. "Though I am a full Mage now. And I'm here because I think I can find out where these people are from. But I have to actually talk to them, sir," she continued, her tone softer. "And I can't do that from this side of the wall."

Gates studied her for a long moment, a small frown on his face. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. "Be that as it may, I still can't let you in."

He raised his hand, stalling her protest. "Right now. But I can pass on your intentions and credentials to the Colonel in charge of this operation." He paused, eyes hooded and distant for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, haunted.

"I remember what you did, at the Alpha Theta facility, Miss Caleb. I also remember what happened after. And to know that you come here to help, after that-"

"They aren't related," she said gently. "And they were doing what they were charged to do. No harm came to me, and they were right to question me. The Church and I are not at odds, and I certainly never blamed you."

He was hard to read. He had been back then, too. But Sasha was not surprised to see a flicker of relief cross behind Gates' eyes. He had always wondered, she realized, if he should have stopped the inquisition. If he should have stepped in and sent her straight on to the Skry Abbey. She smiled gently.

"It was never your jurisdiction," she said, "you did your job and they did theirs. And now I'm here for these people, because they need someone who can figure this all out. I don't know if I'm the person to do it. But I'd like to try."

Gates nodded, mute for a moment as he looked her over again, but now seeing her as if for the first time. As most people saw a Mage, she realized with a small regret. Not as a person, but as a force of nature. It was good that the Church oversaw the Abbeys, she thought sadly. It would be too easy to let this sort of fear-tinged awe go to your head.

"I'll pass on your message, Mage Caleb," he said formally, and she felt the shift from person to Mage in his mind completed, like the sound of a heavy lock falling in to place. "Where can we reach you? It may take some time, of course."

She nodded, knowing at least it would be hours or days, instead of weeks now.

"I'll be on the ship Star Stealer," she said, "Bay 6-D."

Gates visibly startled, but composed himself again swiftly. She looked at him curiously, but did not ask. They weren't friends. They probably couldn't be. Mages found companionship with other Mages. It was too hard to be friends with someone who didn't understand. Someone who was afraid of what they did, or who forgot that you were a person too. Abbott Tobias could claim the freighter captain as his friend. But they both knew it was a lovely fiction, spoken for convenience's sake.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said with a smile, picking up her bag again. It seemed heavier this time. "I'll await your message."

Gates inclined his head, expression serious. "I will contact you as soon as I have word."

She gave him a small, cheerful wave, and he was reminded of just how young she was, even years later as she turned and walked away. He smiled slightly to himself, a weight he hadn't known he'd carried for six years eased. He was glad she was well. And maybe she could help here. Stranger things had happened.

Quarantine

The numbers weren't wrong. They were short a person. Out of the four thousand odd refugees that had so far made it to Eldorado, they were missing one. With the high level of traffic through the Space Port and Landing Docks these days, keeping track of that many people (not counting the pilots and other crew who were grounded during their own quarantines), being one shy might not seem like a particular problem.

But for Major Ricardo Gates of the Knights of Gaul, it was a problem. A rather large problem.

He rubbed his forehead, pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger. "And the reason you were not tracking them every day, as you were requested to, Sergeant Tillman, is because...."

Tillman, to his credit, remained at attention, his response firm. "Because we did not have the men, sir, until the new troops arrived yesterday. With the Colonel's orders to keep a minimum number of men on the cordon, I had no one to spare for head counting, sir."

"Well, it looks like you didn't do a good job of choosing men for guard duty either, since we're missing someone, Sergeant," Gates replied levelly, doing his best to keep the anger from his voice, but letting the annoyance show with the sharpness of his tone. "How long since the last accounting?"

"Four days sir."

"Four days," Gates repeated heavily. They had been adding to the tally list, over a thousand people since then, but no one had counted them otherwise. Four days. Perhaps the missing name had only been gone for a few hours. Please, by all that was Merciful, make it hours.

"Assign someone to roll call, immediately," he paused before adding, "with two assistants. And you will take their place in the cordon rotation if the two duties conflict. Dismissed."

Gates turned away briskly, more interested now in fixing this colossal screw up than he was in the saluting Sergeant at his back.

His eyes slipped over the idle crowd as he moved through the refugee encampment. He nodded deeply to a man whose white cowl marked him as a Father-Captain of the Universal Church. The older gentleman smiled benignly at him before turning to a child who tugged at his cassock. Gates couldn't help a tight smile. The people here were generally calm, readily following directions. There had been no serious issues among the refugees in the last two weeks, and for that he was grateful.

They were a strange lot. Smarter people than he had so far been unable to discover their origins. They spoke a familiar, if oddly lilted version of the middle tongue, used by traders and for interstellar news, but it didn't all sound the same to his ear. He wasn't a linguist, but traveling with the Imperial Army was enough. They weren't all from the same planet, he'd bet money on it. And not one of them could remember anything before a month ago. Not to mention the rumors circulating about the ships they had originally been found in- Gates wasn't a tech-junkie, but even he wanted to get a peek at them. So where had they come from? Any planet with the ability to produce ships with technology years beyond what was available in the Empire ought to have been well known. But the ships matched none currently in production. The style of their dress, unfamiliar vocabulary, every thing pegged them for refugees from a long isolated colony. But where? Gates conceded that there was always a chance one of the lost colony ships from the past age could have made it somewhere beyond the current reach of the empire- but a half dozen of them? It would take at least that many to account for the variety of speech patterns at the very least.

He nodded absently to people as he passed through the tent city that had sprung up within the confines of the eastern Landing Docks. The government had arranged for the location and the troops to manage the operation, but it was the Universal Church that had sent the food, clothing, tents and personnel to see to the needs of the Refugees. And thousands of them, coming from apparently no where over the span of just a few weeks, was no trifling matter. Each side did their part to make everything here run as smoothly as possible, but Gates suspected that the Church ministers had less organizational problems than he had right now.

If he had stayed in the Technocracy's armed forces, instead of returning to his home-world's defense force, this wouldn't be a problem. If he had remained with the Imperial Army, chances were good that he would have a higher rank now than the Colonel who was mucking everything up here. He would be able to properly organize this mess in to something resembling efficiency. But after he had served his contract in the Imperial Army, he'd gone home. It had been a good decision five years ago, but now he wondered. Though he was a Major in the Order of the Knights of Gaul, he was still a First Lieutenant on the rare occasions he was called back in to service of the Empire. Dealing with the refugees on Gaul was only the second time in five years that the call had gone out. His contract required three calls after his discharge, and then he would no longer be obligated to come. He could focus all of his time and loyalty to home soil, the Technocracy be damned. And yet....

Gaul was quiet. Being neither part of the core nor one of the frontier planets, Gaul was safe from either political and religious upheaval or outside threats to the human empire. It was off of the major trade routes, but it produced all of its own goods and energy, making it completely independent of government energy subsidies that so many other worlds required. It had self-governed successfully since its settlement, and though the people were pious, they weren't zealots. The Church  had little work to do beyond administering to the needs of the spirit. The people of Gaul took care of their own, and the social programs that the Church oversaw across the rest of the Empire were hardly needed. Not that there wasn't crime or poverty, but the people were generous and the planetary government saw to their needs, despite the Church's over reaching charity. Gates considered Gaul to be the greatest of the settled worlds for all of those reasons and more, though he recognized his own bias in that. Gaul was beautiful, and that idyllic landscape was etched upon his soul. He was never completely whole when he was away from it.

Yes, Gaul was quiet. But there was growing unrest across the empire. Just because they were largely insulated from it, didn't mean that it wouldn't effect them. Gaul was self-sufficient. The process of energy accounting that the government used to determine need within the Empire always considered Gaul to be efficient, but creating little excess. They received nothing from anyone else, but were also not required to redirect too much in to allotments for other planets. But that could change, and not because of anything that Gaul did.

Eldorado was not the first boom planet to sink in to poverty, Gates mused. And then there were places like the Belphagors, producing very little of their own raw materials or energy, but still home to billions, with trillions of ergs of energy allotment being redirected to keep the luxury industries in business there. Gates shook his head. When planets like Eldorado failed an energy audit, they were set adrift, functioning only on what private investors would part with. But when planets like Belphagor Major failed an energy audit, more raw materials were poured in. Official reasoning claimed that places like Belphagor offered necessary luxuries and technological progress, whereas Eldorado, once stripped of its useful ore, had little long term return to the empire. Unofficially, too many rich people lived on Belphagor, and only poor lived on Eldorado.

How long until more of the burden came to places like Gaul? And how much could they shoulder before the strain became too much?

Gates knew just how lucky he was to have been born on Gaul. And the pride of that was tempered only slightly in the awareness of how difficult life was elsewhere. He could be proud, but he didn't have to be blind. Originally, he had gone to serve with the Imperial Army for training to bring back with him, new technology and techniques that he could then use to help improve his own home-world's defense force. He had done that, and never regretted it. But could he keep protecting Gaul only from his home soil? Or did he need to be out here, with all of this ugly mess, so that he could see the problems coming from farther away? He honestly didn't know. Gaul was so very insulated, and he wasn't certain if it would be enough anymore.

Returning to the problem at hand, he cursed quietly to himself.  For now, all he could do was try to track down this missing refugee and pray.

Pray that the quarantine was simply precaution. Pray that this Kiral, as he was noted on the list, hadn't gotten outside of the Landing Docks and in to the general population of Eldorado. Gates didn't want to contemplate the back lash if that had happened. Pray that he was found swiftly. And without any new delays-

Gates turned the corner, only to be greeted with what had the potential to be exactly that. A young woman was standing at the check point, gesturing emphatically in to the quarantine area. The soldier on duty was doing his best, but it was clear that she wasn't taking no for an answer.

"I'm sorry Miss, but you can't come in here," he said as he reached the check point, nodding to the younger man. The other soldier looked relieved as he stepped back, letting Gates take over.

He settled comfortably, feet shoulder width apart and his hands at the small of his back. The expression on his face was friendly, but not familiar, hoping that this would be quick. This wasn't the first curiosity seeker to come their way.

"No, I'm sorry, but you don't understand," she said earnestly. "I'm here to help. I'm-"

Even worse. A budding philanthropist.

Cyphers

"You know, I can feel Cyphers."

Saede tried to tune out her co-pilot as he rambled on. Donovan was a sweet kid, but sometimes she just wanted to throw him in to the cargo hold and vent the atmosphere.

"I can’t come and get her, Tobi, but I can meet her here."

"They’re just different from real people."

Like right now. When she was trying to make a business deal. The kind that paid. Because she appreciated jobs that paid. And Donovan did too, even more than she did. So why wouldn’t he shut his gob?

"No, we’re under quarantine on Eldorado, so you lucked out. Yeah, brought in a load of refugees yesterday and until they clear quarantine, we don’t clear quarantine."

"It’s like I can feel the electronics, you know?"

Saede reached behind her, one arm flailing in his general direction. If she had come in to contact with him, she might have smacked him. But she didn’t, and he didn’t seem to notice the not so subtle hints to pipe down.

"Yeah, we’ll be here. When’s she leaving Skry? If she’s leaving tomorrow, she’ll get here in three days, local. I know you guys don’t like Starfall, but what are you going to do, go the long way ‘round?"

"There’s this buzz, in my head, when they are near me. Does that happen to you?"

Donovan didn’t need answers to his questions. He needed a sharp thump up the side of his head. Saede raised her voice, craning her neck so she could look at Donovan over her shoulder. The look she gave him didn’t stem the verbal tide for even a moment.

"When she’s done here I can bring her back. Usual deal, I like you guys. Nah, I trust you, you can deposit it when we get there, especially if you don’t know how long she’ll want to stay. I have nowhere pressing I need to be."

"Because they’re just wrong. Nature knows it’s all messed up, you feel me? You gotta feel bad for them really."


Finish the deal. Just finish the deal Saede, and then you can kill him.

"Sounds good. We’ll keep an eye out for her, but in case we miss you, tell her to find the Star Stealer. We’re in bay 6-D. If she comes in to the main port, she’ll be stuck here for a week too. It sounds like she’ll need that long. They’re keeping the refugees separate though. Yeah, military guard. But a Mage ought to be able to get in and talk to them. Pretty subdued group honestly. No. I don’t think they’re dangerous. Sorry Tobi, beyond that I don’t have much. They’re quiet. Confused by technology, so they must be from a pretty back water planet. Lost. She’ll be fine, there’s no harm in these people. Alright. Good talking to you again, say hi to Rya for me. You too."

"It’s not like they have a choice. They aren’t human."

Saede hung the ear piece up on the cradle of the public com and rounded on Donovan. He wilted a little bit beneath the full weight of her glare.

"What? They aren’t," he insisted.

She sighed, giving up. He didn’t understand and the call was done now anyway.

"Were you listening to a word of that conversation, or do I have to go over it again?"

He responded without hesitation. "We’re waiting for a Mage who’s coming here to talk to the refugees. You see, unlike some people, I listen when another person is talking," Donovan said loftily.

Saede just stared at him for a moment then shook her head. The thing was he did listen, even if it didn’t seem like he was. He could pay attention to half a dozen things at once, which was a huge help to her on the ship. And in port, she thought, recalling the times his uncanny attention had kept them out of trouble. Saede was good at reading people, but she could only track so many things going on at a time. Donovan had a knack for tracking an entire room, but never being conscious of all of it until the last moment. Right when it mattered. Which was really all she could ask for.

"So, what’s all this about Cypher’s not being human? Of course they are," she said absently as the two of them peeled off on to the walkway. It was busier than usual at the Eldorado Landing Dock. Beside several thousand refugees, everyone who came in to contact with them was being kept here for a solid week. Normally, off planet pilots and their crews spent as little time on Eldorado as possible.

"Just because they have human bodies, doesn’t make them human," Donovan insisted, stepping over a sleeping body. At least, he thought it was sleeping. Sometimes it was hard to tell. "They don’t have human brains. And the bodies are raised in vats, cloned composites. I’m not saying they deserve the lot they’ve gotten, or what some people do to them, but you really can’t argue with me that they are human and deserve the same rights."

"You barely register that everyone around you is human, so I guess it doesn’t surprise me."

Saede sidestepped at the same time, but not ignoring it the same way Donovan did. Yes, breathing. She knew there was nothing she could do. Eldorado had too many people in need of far more than anything she could offer.

Eldorado was a mining and manufacturing community. A hundred years ago, it had been a boom town, rare metals being brought up from a thousand mines all across the surface. But at that rate, it hadn’t taken long for all of the major veins to be completely stripped. There were still some mines in operation, but not many. And the manufacturing of Starfall drive components had dropped not long after the mining operations started coming up dry. It had left hundreds of thousands of people with nothing to show for it and nowhere to go. Not the factory owners of course. Just the people who worked for them. With no way to pay for a ticket off world, great sprawling work camps turned in to semi-permanent settlements built out of anything that could be salvaged from the abandoned factories. There were a few bastions of wealth remaining- the last of the factories, the Landing Dock, the Space Port in orbit around the planet. All but the Landing Dock were highly segregated, their current location the only place on the planet where those of relative wealth mingled with the destitute. The lengths some of them would go through to get off world….. Saede glanced sideways at Donovan.

For someone who was from Eldorado, he never really seemed to see it on the rare occasion they had to come here. Then again, perhaps it was a defense mechanism. He lived the first twenty years of his life here. He must have become inured to the suffering, or he never could have survived it. She never really knew what had possessed her to offer him a job, two years ago. Initially, it had only been a ride and some cash to somewhere he could find work. He’d helped her get out of a tough spot, and Saede felt she owed him that much. Once they’d gotten on the ship, it seemed for the best just to bring him to another mining colony. He had no schooling, no mechanical training. Certainly nothing to recommend him as a co-pilot. But he learned quickly, she’d discovered on the journey out. And rather than leaving him, she’d asked him to stay. And other than when he ran his mouth, she didn’t regret it.

He shrugged at her. "I’ve got to worry about me before I worry about everyone else. You’re different. You can afford it. The attention I mean. It doesn’t cost you anything. You always know that you can just get up and leave. You do what you can, when you can, but it doesn’t tie you to those people, you know? The rest of us, we get invested. So it’s better to just not bother."

They walked in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. It was not the first time they’d had this conversation. But it always left both of them a little irritated with the other. In a way, they were both accusing the other of not caring enough. But Saede never really understood how not doing anything was better than doing something. And that, she supposed, was the crux of why they disagreed.

"There’s one."

Saede glanced over at the couple moving opposite them.

"That one’s easy. His hair is short; you can see the jack in the back of his head."

"I felt him before I could see it," Donovan insisted.

Twenty years ago, anyone could have told the difference between a Cypher and a human just by watching for a minute or two. They had human bodies, but their brains were replaced by solid-state microchips. They were grown for sale, and at first, the programing hadn’t been that great. They were limited to menials, load bearers or doorman. But in the last couple of years, a few new companies beside the original Cypher Corp. had been cropping up. And the competition had rapidly improved the programing and integration. The jacks were a dead give-away of course. They allowed after-market upgrades to the software, and couldn’t be left off, but even those were smaller now than they used to be, and easier to hide with hair or clothing.

They were sold to the rich, or, if you were very rich, you could custom order a body and personality to your own specifications. It just took longer for delivery. Lately, the older models were cropping up for sale, second hand, as people were purchasing these newer, improved Cyphers. The new Cyphers were perfect. They were, on the surface at least, human. They moved, talked and acted like them. Slavery had been outlawed after a two-century long resurgence of the practice, and Cyphers were created in direct response to that. Create a need in the marketplace, and something will come to fill it, after all.

No matter how human they looked, ultimately there weren’t. Not in the eyes of the law. They weren’t even clones of a particular human. That was strictly forbidden by church edict, backed up by government support. They were computers in human bodies though, and that was where the debate came up.

The dialogue was relatively new. Most people felt the same way Donovan did. A sadly vocal minority thought that Cypher’s were strictly property, and could be treated however their owners desired. Technically, you could get a Cypher programed to like being treated badly. Saede’s stance was not particularly popular. And the Cypher’s didn’t have any opinion that they weren’t programed with. Saede understood that there were probably more important things to worry about. But the general opinion toward Cyphers bothered her deeply, and she just couldn’t help it.

"There are more of them around with the high muckity mucks getting stuck in this quarantine too."

Donovan’s comment pulled her out of her musings. "Where?"

"Over there, the young lady with the tall, ugly, bald man."

"Maybe she’s just after him for his money?"

Donovan rolled his eyes at her.

"Even I wouldn’t go after him for his money," he said with a snort, and Saede had to laugh.

"Alright, fair enough. But how do you know she’s a Cypher?"

"I told you, I can feel it. The vibrations from the micro-chip maybe, I don’t know. But they hum differently than humans do."

Now it was Saede’s turn to roll her eyes. "It’s the total lack of fidgeting while she’s standing there, waiting for him," she decided a moment later. "No one stands that still for that long. You’re good at picking up those little cues though."

They argued genially as they walked back toward their ship. The Star Stealer was a small vessel, suitable to passengers and small, specialty cargo, nothing major. But by shipping novelty and luxury items between planets, Saede was able to take care of herself and a crew member or two comfortably. Right now, it was just Donovan. But it hadn’t always been just the two of them. And Saede knew that it was only a matter of time before he found whatever it was he was really looking for and moved on.

"I wonder which company made that one? It’s really good."

They paused, Saede looking around but not catching the Cypher he was referring to. They were close to the section of the Docks where the refugees were being held, and there was less of a crowd this close to the military cordon.

"I’m less interested in Cyphers, and more how he got past the guards," Saede murmured, indicating a raggedy figure that had just darted furtively around the corner. He was clearly one of the refugees- the cut of his clothes and the peculiar hair style set him apart from the local urchins. At first she thought he was a child, but then he turned toward them slightly and she raised her appraisal of his age by a couple of years. Probably not much younger than Donovan, she realized, but significantly shorter.

"Hey," she called out softly, trying to get his attention but not wanting to make a scene. "Hey, you know if they catch you out here, you’re going to be in pretty big trouble, right?"

He stared at her silently for a heart-beat before suddenly darting off down a different hallway. She looked over at Donovan, shrugging.

"They won’t hurt the kid," she said, shaking her head. "But I bet they won’t be happy. I mean, I don’t think they have anything contagious but- what is it?"

Donovan looked at her incredulously. "Him, Saede. He was a Cypher."

She laughed. "Are you kidding me? He couldn’t have been. He was terrified. They don’t program fear in to Cyphers. It would be counter-productive."

But he just shook his head, eyes watching the hallway the young man had disappeared down. "I’m telling you. He’s a Cypher. And you’re right. He was terrified."

Looking back at her, she could see the confusion written clearly on his face.

"Why would they do that?"

Her own smile died slowly. He wasn’t kidding. He really thought that boy was a Cypher. And so far, he hadn’t been wrong.

"It doesn’t make any sense," he said helplessly.

She didn’t know what to say.

"In that case, I really hope you’re wrong, Donovan."

He nodded slowly, brows furrowed. "Me too," he said quietly.

Leaving Skry

Something was wrong. A deep, aching wretchedness resided here. It wasn’t obvious, and at first she simply brushed it off as the unease she felt on those rare occasions she left Adeline Abbey. At seventeen, she had lived there almost her entire life. While she didn’t normally consider herself as insular as other Mages she knew, it was difficult to adjust to rhythms outside of her own habits and the flow of Abbey life.


Just the travel alone had her ill at ease. The pace of life on a Technocracy military vessel, even in the deadness of Starfall, had been similar to her own ordered days. But here she was an outsider. No duties to perform, no chores to do, no novices to teach. There were no friends to chat with, no teachers to ask questions of. Just a small library and exercise room. And then a vast array of nothing for a week and a half while they traveled. And on top of that, Starfall space was uncomfortable. It was empty. She had heard other Mages complain about travel, but she hadn't felt it herself.She had expected to relax, to enjoy what amounted to a free vacation with nothing expected of her until she reached Alpha Theta. But she was unaccustomed to idleness, and it chafed after only a few days. The anxiety had grown, and it was so easy to brush off the ill ease at the journey’s end as an outpouring of inaction.


The Abbess would have been horrified that one of her students could have been so lax.


 It wasn’t until she was in the installation that she started doubting. Everywhere she looked the stress was tangible. It was clearly written in the sharp lines around that person’s eyes or the tightness upon this person’s mouth. The tension fairly sang in the air as she was escorted through the compound, though no one spoke of it. They simply spoke of this exciting new life-form, all of the mysteries that surrounded it and oh wait until she saw it. But their eyes shifted when they spoke and their shoulders hunched, protecting themselves from something she could only guess at.


 The hum of activity was dulled. She could almost feel it shifting, writing, like sluggish bees, around the center of the installation. A muteness waited there, deadening all of her senses. It didn’t reach toward her; it wasn’t that aggressive. But it was there, and that empty silence stared at her from through the walls, waiting. Not for her specifically. For something else.


 She tried to stop walking, just inside of the doors to the lab, eyes riveted on the steri-glass cylinder. Mutely, she shook her head, lips pressed firmly together. Because she knew that if she opened her mouth, she would start screaming.


 Sasha forced her eyes open, breaking the dream firmly and deliberately. Six years ago, she hadn’t screamed. But if she had allowed the dream to continue, it never would have stopped.


 With a groan, she sat up, pushing her fists hard against her eyes. If she did that, she could imagine for a moment that she was back at Adeline Abbey. Even if she opened her eyes, she could pretend that for another heartbeat. The room was very similar, small, clean, with simple furnishings. But the light that streamed in through the window was wrong. Where dawn on Adeline had been warm, russet and rose, here on Skry it was silver and shivery, the light carrying a watery quality. The Skry Abbey was lovely in its own way, all spindly towers and sweeping bridges, but Sasha would always miss the grounded curves and comfort that had been the warm stone and wood of Adeline.


 Deliberately she set those thoughts aside, settling them in the mental compartment she reserved for the ache of loss. Certain things and people lived in that place, and she would never chide herself for missing them. But there were times and places, and now was neither of those things. She tucked the dream even deeper, in to the compartment labeled for things she wanted to forget but knew she could not afford to. The mental exercises of the Skry Order were different than what she had learned as a child on Adeline. But they served her well. Because she came to that training late, she might never be able to fully file away her memories, pulling them out as one would pull a book from a shelf, but she could compartmentalize enough when it came to things that no longer mattered.  Six years had passed. The creature was dead, dissected and studied by the scientists of Alpha Theta. It held no power over her, or anyone else.


 And yet, still, she dreamed of it. When she allowed herself to.


Sasha sighed and rolled out of bed. In truth, she wasn’t as good at compartmentalizing as she would have liked. But to be better at it, she would have to give up too much of what Novalina had taught her. Even after she dressed and washed, she didn’t put away the thoughts of the former Abbess of Adeline. She settled it comfortably around herself, letting all of it rest on her shoulders like a well-worn cloak.


Normally, she would have headed off to oversee novices’ morning chores. But this morning was different. Special. Today she headed purposefully toward the office of the Abbott. Today, she was twenty-three, and she was considered a full Mage of the Order. And she knew exactly what she wanted to do. The question was, would Abbott Tobias agree?


She chewed on her lower lip as she threaded through the slender hallways. Occasionally, someone would greet her, a smile or a small wave, and she would respond in kind, although her mind was clearly elsewhere. Those who knew her understood; they knew what today was.


Technically, the Abbott couldn’t stop her from leaving. But Sasha always grew a little nervous if she thought she’d have to defend her choices, a low grade anxiety that had come about since her trip to Alpha Theta. Nothing about that assignment had been conductive to positive personal growth, she muttered to herself. All members of the Order were supposed to find positive personal growth in all experiences. But few enough had encountered that thing. Or been questioned by an Agent of the Inquisition.


 Sasha sighed. It could have been worse. She had been a child then, even if she had felt very adult, being sent off on a mission years before she should have been. Had Novalina sent her away deliberately? She had always wondered, once she understood what she had avoided at the Abbey itself, especially as the personal student of the Abbess.


 Don’t mention you are my student, she had said calmly, before Sasha left for Alpha Theta. Do not lie of course. All of the students here learn with me in some capacity. But do not draw attention to it. She had reached out, touching the girl’s hair lightly for a moment before withdrawing her hand. The unspoken and do not claim affection for me, only became clear in hindsight. Even now, the Abbott and Abbess of the Skry Abbey did not know that Sasha had been a personal student of Novalina. They would not have turned her away, as a student of the Order. But ever since being found guilty of heresy and stripped of her title, it was as if Novalina had never existed to those who remained. Sasha would have been looked upon with suspicion at the very least. And that was only if she had been found innocent herself. The Agent’s ignorance of the relationship between Abbess and Acolyte had been enough to shield her from more intense methods of questioning, she knew that now. Novalina’s other student had not been so lucky. Sasha didn’t know what had happened to him, but if she knew Roan, he would have never done anything but show the utmost support for his teacher. Sasha had always been more pragmatic. And besides, she didn’t believe what Novalina had suggested. No. There had been no reason to lose everything over an ideology she did not adhere to.


The gracefully arched door was closed when she reached the Abbott’s office. Before she could knock, it swung open on its own. She smiled, letting herself in. Abbott Tobias didn’t need to show off, but sometimes he did anyway. Still, she couldn’t help but like him and his wife, Abbess Ryanna. They had been kind, not only to her but to everyone who crossed their paths, and it was impossible to not appreciate their generosity or good humor.


The Abbott looked up at her from the desk monitor, a smile widening across his thick features.


 “Come in, Sasha, come in. Don’t hover in the door way, unless you’ve changed your mind about getting older. I know I have.”


 Her own smile mirrored his as she stepped in to the brightly lit office. The watery light of Skry poured in from hundreds of tiny windows, bathing the room in swimming movement. The atmosphere of the planet was heavy with humidity; the clouds barely vapor at all, always straining to complete condensing in to thick, slow raindrops. But the wavy patterns in the glass of the windows completed the illusion that the office itself was a few feet below the water.


“No, I think I’m going to bow to the wheels of time and get on with it,” she replied with a laugh.


“Well, just hate to think you were holding out on me,” he grumped. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you were to come up with a spell to keep someone young forever. If you do, I’ll be insulted if I’m not the first person you come to with it. Now. Let’s see. On to business.”


Here was the part she had been dreading. Most full Mages had a plan after completing their training. Some might be invited to stay and teach, or go to another Abbey for the same purpose. Some would conduct research. Others would go to work for the Church or even the Government of a particular planet. There were a number of avenues open to a talented Mage. Not everyone who came to one of the Abbeys to study would reach this level, but those who did could go almost anywhere they wanted.


Unlike her peers, however, Sasha hadn’t responded to any of the invitations to teach at other Abbeys. Nor had she pursued setting up a place for herself where she could continue her studies. And she had no interest in the spiritual or the executive. Rarely, a Mage would simply go their own way; vanish in most cases to live a life of obscurity. But that never happened with a student as gifted as Sasha was. So she knew that for all of his casual demeanor, Abbott Tobias was nervous about the lack of news he’d had for this particular student.


He cleared his throat slightly just as Sasha was steeling herself to speak.


“You do know of course, that the Abbess and I want you to teach here.” A pause as he gave her a heavy look. He plowed on before she could say anything, “You have worked wonderfully with the novices, but I would love to see you teach some of the higher acolytes.”


He thinks I didn’t get any offers, she realized suddenly. He was trying to help her save face, so that she wouldn’t have to admit it. It warmed her. Sasha smiled and shook her head.


 “Thank you Abbott, but I have other plans.”

He was visibly relieved as he relaxed back in to the chair. She suppressed a smile. He would never admit it, but it would be simpler in some ways if she weren’t here.


“Of course, of course you do Sasha,” he said with a laugh. “But the Abbess and I will miss you when you go. And if you should ever change your mind, we would welcome you here.”


Trailing off, he waited, clearly interested in what she intended. He was sincere in his offer, but it would be better if she left. She needed to go. A deep breath, held for a moment, and then:


“I want to go work with the refugees.”


“Eh? You want to what?”


The look of complete befuddlement on his face made her giggle. He shot her a look of mock indignation but she kept smiling as she explained.


“The refugees. On Eldorado.” She knew he was focused on the Abbey, but sometimes she forgot how little attention most of them paid to the outside world.


“About a year ago, refugees started showing up. They weren’t showing up anywhere in particular, but there would be a ship here, a ship there, a group of them suddenly on Gaul or Belphagor Minor. No one knows where they came from. So the Government has been gathering all of those strange refugees and setting up a place for them on Eldorado.”


“Why not just ask them where they came from? Why are they keeping it a secret?” Abbott Tobias wasn’t really sure what to think of all of this. He clearly had a vague memory of hearing something in the feeds about this, but he hadn’t paid a lot of attention. It hadn’t been big news.


Sasha shook her head. “No. It’s not a secret. I mean. Well, you see, they don’t know either. None of them.” She spread her hands, trying to explain something that she only partially understood herself. “They don’t know how they got here, or where they came from. They know their names, how to take care of themselves, generally. But not much else. So the government is rounding them up when they find them and sending them to Eldorado. Ostensibly, it’s temporary while they investigate what’s going on.”


Abbott Tobias huffed. “Eldorado is a glorified junk yard. No one lives there that doesn’t have to.”


 She shrugged helplessly. “It’s not where I would have sent them, but they didn’t ask me.”


 A chuckle at that one, and Sasha relaxed a little bit. He wasn’t arguing with her or telling her no. That was a good sign. She leaned forward a bit, pushing it home. She didn’t ask permission. She didn’t need to.


“So I’m going to go see what I can do. Maybe I can figure out where they come from. There are only so many places humans have settled. A hundred planets give or take, maybe a handful who don’t want anyone to know about them. But surely someone must miss these people? Someone has to know. And while I can’t travel to every planet as say ‘hey, are you missing a couple thousand people?’ maybe there’s more information. Something a Mage can find that they can’t.”


She waited, sitting nervously at the edge of her chair. The Abbott sat back, contemplating her for longer than she would have liked. With a sigh, he nodded.


“If that’s what you want to do,” he murmured dubiously. “But what do you want to do after that? It’s not as if that will last the rest of your life.”


A grin split Sasha’s face. “Maybe I’ll come back here and freeload off of the Abbey when I’m done. Or get a fat check and a medal for services rendered. Then I can retire and come back to free load off of the Abbey.”


He jabbed a finger at her, scowling. “Come back here and I’ll put you to work,” he snapped even as the scowl melted in to a smile. But the smile was short lived.


“Eldorado’s a rough place, even for a Mage. You couldn’t pay me to go there, to tell you the truth,” he mulled. “Let me send a few waves, see if I can’t get someone to meet you on that end. Are you willing to wait a couple of days?”


She nodded, not needing to think about it. There were goodbyes to be said, both to the people and the place itself. It wasn’t Adeline, but Skry had been good to her and she would miss it too. Another thing to add to that mental compartment. She stood up when he did, waiting while he came around the desk. They didn’t hug, or shake hands. Mages tended to be overly sensitive about personal space. So much of what they did relied on touch. He reached up between them, spreading his fingers wide in the air. She mirrored his motion, and they stood for a moment, palms just a centimeter apart, but never touching.


“I can’t say that I’m thrilled with your choice,” he said quietly as he lowered his hand. “But do be careful Sasha. Come back when you are done and we can find you something more suited to your talents.”


She smiled, dropping her own hand. “This is suited to my talents, Abbott. And I think it’s important.”


He nodded. “I think you do. I hope you’re right. Be safe, and go with the blessings of the Universe.”


“And you, Abbott Tobias. And you.”

Shadows in the Tank

"Whatever it is, it sure is ugly."

Lieutenant Ricardo Gates couldn't help but agree with Ket’s observation from the night before. Even if they weren't supposed to be looking at it while they were on duty, it was hard to ignore. The two partners would watch it from their positions in the lab, out of the corner of their eyes, and pretend that they weren't deeply disturbed.

Their gaze never rested for long on the tall, steri-glass cylinder that dominated the center of the room. Even when Gates did try to look at the thing in the containment chamber, he couldn't for long. It made him nauseous, dizzy. Looking at it straight on was like trying to catch anything else in peripheral. It was hazy, too many angles where there ought to be curves. Too many curves where there ought to be limbs. No eyes, no teeth, just a shadow of them, as though impressions of a creature who knew they ought to exist, but not what their purpose might be. It breathed. At least, its torso moved in a certain arrhythmic pattern that he couldn’t really peg down. But it didn't seem to matter what filled the tank’s atmosphere. Right now, they had pumped in a viscous liquid, Gates didn't know what, and even in the absence of air, it was still respiring. So the doctors said anyway.

Gates had a sneaking suspicion that it was just doing that because the scientists expected it to. If everyone in the room suddenly realized that it didn't need to breathe, it would stop and be no worse off than it was now. Of course, the white coats didn't ask the opinion of a soldier. He didn't shudder. But he wanted to.

They knew it was alive. The scientists of the Alpha Theta research facility knew that much at least. But so far, that seemed to be the extent of it.

The location of its discovery was classified, far beyond his or his partner's rank. They had been assigned to the facility after the fact. They and a dozen others, assigned to an independent research lab that had never been built with soldiers in mind. Gates didn't actually think it would happen, but the idea of defending this place had all of them grumbling after hours in their bunks.

Already at attention, there was a subconscious sharpening of Gates’ thoughts as the doors slid open. In sharp contrast to the white lab coats of the scientists, and the silver uniforms of the soldiers, she was dressed in charcoal grey, a smudge in the otherwise spotless room. The creature in the central chamber shifted, a subsonic shudder almost tangible to everyone in the room. But the machines were silent, not registering even the motion in the tank. The monitors, unchanged, as the thing quieted again and the woman strode in to the center bank of consoles.

"Anything?"

Her voice was crisp, all business, cool. Cool was preferable to cold, which Agent Sizhran could bring to bear against soldier, scientist or civilian. She, like the thing in the chamber, had been here when the soldiers arrived. And he understood her as much as he did the other.

One of the scientists shook his head. Doctor Torres rubbed his forehead, not taking his eyes off of the monitor.

"Nothing helpful," he said mournfully. "It resists all of our attempts to study it. We cannot measure electrical impulses, even though it is obviously moving, breathing. It does not eat. If it thinks, we cannot tell. If it speaks, well, it's certainly not speaking to us. Even when we watch it move, it doesn't register in anyway on our sensors, and we've checked the equipment a dozen times. It's working, I assure you." He paused, tone shifting toward a familiar request. "If you would just let us dissect it, perhaps we could-"

"Not yet. Not until you have exhausted all other options," she interrupted sharply.

Doctor Torres pinched his nose, looking up at her finally.

"We have exhausted all other options. We have starved it, we have drowned it, we have electrocuted it. We have bombarded it with every particle we have power over and some that we only vaguely understand. We have subjected it to every passive test we possess, and most of the active tests that do not risk actively destroying living tissue. We even dipped back and attempted to x-ray it." He looked put out. "The machine broke. It was an antique. On loan from the Imperial Academy of the Sciences. They were not pleased. Although it still gave us more than anything else did. We now know that anything that isn’t shielded in the modern fashion will break. That was a fun series of experiments, I can assure you."

His voice has risen slowly as he unfolded himself from the chair. Doctor Torres didn’t shout, but Gates suspected that he was perilously close to losing that distinction.

"Miss Sizhran," he said tersely, purposefully ignoring her title, "these are the other options. We are done with them. Fini. Caput. Please. Just allow me to remove it from the chamber and do what all great scientists do when confronted with a new life form. We must understand this. We must."

The irony of arguing for the right to kill an apparently unique being in order to understand it was not lost on Gates. He resisted the urge to exchange a glance with Ket. Personally, he didn’t really care what they did with it. But he suspected that it wouldn’t do any good. Would it die, even if they wanted it to? He wasn’t too sure. Though Doctor Torres certainly seemed to think it was the answer to their problems.
"There is one more option," Agent Sizhran said crisply. "I have sent for someone from the nearest Abbey to give us their opinion. They should be arriving in a few days."

Gates blinked. Torres started, pulling off his glasses and squinting at the shorter woman.

"The nearest Abbey is Adeline Abbey," he said slowly, turning his glasses over in his hands. " And you told me yourself that they had just been placed under interdict. Something about heresy in the highest echelons. How can you trust a Mage from that school?"

Agent Sizhran looked up at him, her voice sharp and cold.

"The heresy is limited to the Abbess." She spoke as if she had no doubt of that, though she could hardly know before a formal inquiry. "When I had them send the request for one of their Sensitives, I also called a delay on the interdict. The occupying force and Inquisitors will not arrive until after the Sensitive is well on her way. I have been informed that they are sending one of their students, but she is very good. After she has given us her impression of the subject, I will conduct the inquiry here myself. If she is faithful, we can send her to one of the other Abbeys to continue her training."

Her tone had shifted, from glacial to coolly casual, as if it were an everyday thing to subject someone to an inquiry. As if it would be merely a pleasant chat with someone who was simply not a friend yet, but held the interesting potential to become so.

Gates’ gaze drifted to the renewed, unmeasured writhing of the thing in the tank. He didn’t envy the Mage they were sending. He reckoned none of them would.

The Abbess and the Acolyte

"A semi-colon is inappropriate here. A period would accomplish the job."

Sasha suppressed the desire to groan. The Abbess was proofreading her piece on the specific nature of the dogwood tree in the courtyard. If she had thought it was boring to write, listening to the older woman correct it was agony.

"Why does it matter? I thought you liked it when I used the more difficult… things," she waved her hands about in the air for a moment, indicating all of the less common grammar she couldn’t quite put words to.

"I want you to use more complicated language and punctuation, when necessary, so that your meaning can be more precisely expressed," the Abbess corrected. That was pretty much what the Abbess did, in Sasha’s mind. It was ALL that she did. Corrected everything she said. "I do not like it when you randomly insert larger words or atypical punctuation just to impress me, especially when it is inaccurate or used improperly."

Now Sasha did groan. It had only been two weeks since she had been taken out of her classes with the other acolytes and started private sessions with the head of the Order. Only two weeks, but it felt like ten. So far, every day, this was all she did. The first half of the day dedicated to writing an essay on something. Perhaps the way the wind was moving the clouds that day, or the patterns the rain was making on the surface of the pond, or what order the cook added ingredients to the soup. The worst had been alternative composite materials for wood on planets where wood was scarce. Often, it was mind-numbingly dull. Some days it was actually hard. Her studies had never been hard before, and Sasha was not enjoying it.

"Difficult. Not hard. Challenging perhaps would be better, as none of this is actually difficult for you. Just that it requires more effort than you are accustomed to offering to your studies."

The Abbess looked over the rims of the spectacles at the ten-year-old across from her. Sasha returned the look, but with far less grace. She hated it when the Abbess did that. It was bad enough to have her constantly correcting her writing. That she needed to correct her thoughts was nearly unbearable.

"Nearly, just so," the Abbess said with a tiny smile.

It was too much. She stood up suddenly, pushing the chair back with a squeal across the wood floor. She had been stuffing down this growing feeling of resentment. This was such an incredible waste of her time when she could actually be learning. This wasn’t learning. This was busy work. Tedious busy work. And she wasn’t going to take it anymore. Forget Patience. If the Abbess wanted to lecture her on the Virtues of the Order she could stuff a sock in it. Sasha was out of Patience.

The Abbess just looked back down at the palm screen, casually scrolling to the next page of Sasha’s work while she waited. She’d been waiting thirteen days for the question. She could wait another moment or two.

"What’s the point?"

"The tip of your stylus, most likely."

Sasha nearly growled now with irritation. "You know what I meant! You know exactly what I mean! You always do!"

The older woman looked up again, calm in the face of a very angry girl. "Yes, but do you?"

Breathing in, deeply, perhaps a little raggedly, Sasha ordered her thoughts as she’d been taught.

"What does all of this- the writing, the constant revisions, correcting my words- have to do with magic?"

A real smile spread over the Abbess’s face as she nodded, satisfied.

"Just so. You have been at the Abbey for five years. And each year, you have learned more about magic, once you exhibited a talent for it."

"Everyone here has a talent for magic," Sasha interrupted, clearly annoyed. This wasn’t answering her question. She’d been waiting for two weeks to ask this, and now she couldn’t wait another heartbeat to understand why she’d been wasting her time.

"No," the Abbess corrected, her tone gentle. "No, everyone here has the capacity to learn it. But not all have a talent. Take Master of Novices. He can barely make a broom change colours, let alone altering anything to its core. And while I will not name anyone, not all of your classmates are gifted. All will leave here with certain ability, certain spells. But not all are destined to be great."

"But this isn’t magic," Sasha insisted stubbornly. "You took me out of real magic classes to come and do this. Even with a talent, I can’t learn magic like this." There was true derision in the child’s voice now. "This…. This just doesn’t MATTER."

"It all matters," the Abbess snapped. Sasha blinked and sat back down, surprised. She couldn’t remember a harsh tone ever coming out of her mouth, even when that group of pre-teen boys had flooded the bathrooms by freezing all of the pipes. That was a trick Sasha wouldn’t mind learning. But right now, the Abbess had her full attention.

"You have learned the basics. You have learned the how of the simple magics, but not the why of them. To ever be more than a dabbler, you must understand the nature of the Universe itself. When you want to change the clouds, you must understand the water and the wind. If you want to create a door in a wall where none was before, you must know what makes up the wall, so you can know how best to remove it. The Universe creates different ways, and so it will destroy in different ways. And you must then be able to accurately communicate your desires to the Universe you are attempting to alter."

Suddenly, the topics of her essays made more sense. They weren’t busy work. They were helping her understand so that she could better make- or unmake- the very things she was studying. Alright, that would help her with true magic! But the communication of those desires was already laid out for them.

"But we have-"

"The spells only get you so far, Sasha," she said, anticipating the girl’s complaint. They always said that. "As you watched in the kitchens, what did you notice?"

"Um. Food?" The look on the other woman’s face was enough to make her actually think about her answer. "Well, some of the cooks were faster than others. They had more practice, so they didn’t need to think about what they were doing. They just did it."

She warmed slightly to the subject. Watching people was something she always liked to do. She could remember details of the things around her better than anyone she knew. And when she noticed things, she could connect them.

"They also didn’t use recipes. The fast ones, I mean. Only the slower ones were using recipes. They had to think about what they were doing more and check every step."

The Abbess nodded. "Spells are like recipes. Even the greatest chef on Belphagor Major or Spire starts by learning recipes. And some people will always follow the recipes, never deviate. They may not need to check them to follow them correctly, just like you may memorize a spell, but the meal is the end result of the same recipe, no matter who has cooked it."

"But the great chefs don’t always have to follow recipes," Sasha murmured, looking thoughtful.


"They can create their own dishes." Raj, the Abbey’s head cook, didn’t use recipes. She’d noticed when she had written her essay. But, she realized with a touch of chagrin, she hadn’t written that part down.

"Precisely. And the great Mages don’t have to use spells that others have written. But only if they understand, truly understand, the nature of that which they are attempting to effect. And our language is how we communicate with the Universe."

"But you don’t have to talk to do magic, I’ve seen it!"


The Abbess chuckled. "No, but the language is still there, inside of my head. It’s how we humans think. Yes, some people can picture something so vividly that they can actually see it, but the Universe can’t pluck those images wholesale from our minds. We need to tell It. And that is where language is so very important. Every word has meaning. And many words have more than one meaning. The simpler that word is, the more likely it is to have multiple ways it can be used."


Sasha nodded, but the Abbess either didn’t notice (or didn’t care) that she was finally paying attention.

"Your complaint earlier that this was hard- the word is imprecise. Did you mean difficult? Challenging? Or might the Universe have interpreted it to mean actual hardness, like the surface of the floor? While trying to overcome an obstacle with the help of your magic, if you explain to the Universe that it is ‘hard’, the Universe might take you at your most literal. And to help you, it may attempt to make something soft, rather than easier. Can you see how that might be problematic?"

Sasha nodded. "And it’s not just the language I use," she said slowly, "it’s how I use it. If I want to make something easier, I should say that, rather than complaining that it’s hard. If I want a certain outcome, I need to name the outcome, not just bring attention to the problem?"

Smiling, the Abbess also nodded. "Yes, but the first step is the precision. And not just in your language, but also in your observation. Such as in your essay about the kitchens."

"I noticed that Raj didn’t use a recipe, but I didn’t write that down," Sasha admitted. Then she frowned. "You knew that I had noticed, even if I hadn’t realized it. That’s why you asked the question. So the Universe would know that I had noticed, even if I didn’t say it. You did."

The Abbess’s gaze bored in to the girl, trying to communicate more than just the words she was speaking. "Would It? Are you certain? The Universe is everything, yes. But is It omniscient? Many a mage has gone astray in that assumption."

That assertion was nearly heresy. No, not nearly. It was. But Sasha wasn’t given a chance to clarify if her teacher really meant or believed that. She was bringing the Universe as the ultimate God into question, the very premise of the last five hundred years of human civilization. Surely, she had meant it figuratively. Even knowing that the Abbess only spoke in the most precise manner she could, Sasha couldn’t credit it. Not at the age of ten. Someday she would understand the second, more subtle heresy in that statement, the heresy of what the Abbess had not corrected. But by then it would be too late to ask her what she meant. She’d have to figure it out herself.

The chime sounded, signaling the end of the day’s study period, calling the students to afternoon chores. Sasha stood and bowed to the Abbess, a reflexive action to that soft and pervasive bell. The Abbess inclined her head in return as she rose from her seat. She paused, looking carefully at her student.

"Why didn’t you ask me sooner?" She asked softly. "I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that question."

Sasha scuffed her bare toe against the grain of the floor boards.

"I thought it was a test."

"It was," Abbess Novalina nodded as she placed the palm screen and input pad back on the desk. "I just expected you to do better. I’m surprised you waited as long as you did."

Sasha just watched, open mouthed, as the other woman stood up and swept out of the room. If she hadn’t been testing her Patience, one of the primary virtues of their sect, what had she been testing for?

"Ear-sucking xerimorphs," Sasha cursed. At least the Abbess couldn’t hear her. She didn’t feel like having her profanities edited right now.