Pulsar Race (Starship’s Mage #9.5) - Glynn Stewart Page 0,2

legitimate and…otherwise. Some were straight acceleration courses, but most were based around some degree of navigation and obstacles.

All of the legal ones were safe. Some of the others weren’t.

“I know exactly how many sublight races Xanth has, yeah,” Charpentier agreed. “I’ve run in most of them over the last year—and won most of them, too. I was hoping to get a partnership or something, but…buzzbugs. Nothing.”

“So you end up here, thirty days from a payment you have zero dollars toward,” Ivan concluded. “How do I help?”

“You will help?”

“I’ve known you for thirty-six years, Karl Charpentier,” Ivan snapped. “I’m not leaving you or your son to swing.”

If the bank took Restoya, that would clear most of Charpentier’s legal debts and he could sign on as a captain or pilot for a larger shipping firm. He’d hate that, but he’d survive—but from the sounds of it, Ivan’s old friend had debts that wouldn’t be cleared with the seizure.

“How much shit are you still in if the banks take your ship?” the Mage asked.

Charpentier hesitated.

“I’m not helping you if you don’t tell me everything,” Ivan told him.

“I’ve borrowed over a million from la Cosa Nostra,” Charpentier admitted. “I didn’t know who was behind the loan sharks I went to, I swear! Not until a gentleman showed up and told me they now owned all of my debt.”

“Fuck.” Ivan stared at the image of his old friend as a familiar shiver went through him. The last thing Ivan wanted was to get involved with the interstellar iteration of the Sicilian and American Mafias. He’d spent twenty-five years quietly dodging any posting that he expected to involve shooting. He didn’t want to tangle with one of the largest criminal organizations in the Protectorate.

“But I have a plan and it answers everything,” his friend insisted. “Have you heard of the Black Pulsar Race?”

“The illegal race run by la Cosa Nostra through whichever pulsar they think the RMN isn’t watching this week?” Ivan asked drily. “Yes, I’d heard of it. The Navy really doesn’t like it. A few too many people tend to die on that run.”

“I have an invitation,” Charpentier told him. “I won enough of the illegal races in Xanth to earn that. Prize is over six mil, Ivan. I pay off my note and my debt to the mob, and then hand you a draft for a million dollars.”

“But you need a Mage to get you to the Pulsar,” Ivan concluded with a sigh. A million dollars was a lot of money, but did he even need it? His pension would cover the apartment, and even he wasn’t sure what to do with his time.

It would, he supposed, make it unnecessary for him to sign up for the reserves for the extra money—and if he never signed up for the reserves, they couldn’t recall him when the war with the UnArcana Worlds inevitably started.

“We have to get to the starting point, jump to the race course, and then jump to the finish point when the course is done,” Charpentier laid out. “I have the coordinates for where we meet everyone.”

“The Navy would pay you for those,” Ivan said. He was sure la Cosa Nostra had a plan for if those coordinates leaked, but the Navy would still pay for them.

“Not six million, they wouldn’t,” his friend replied. “What they’d want would be the endpoint coordinates, where la Cosa Nostra and the other criminals hang out and the rich and dumb bet on which of us dies. We don’t get that until we finish the course.

“I’m not sure of the exact details, but I only have one set of coordinates and a date.”

Ivan wanted to say no, to back out, to run and leave his friend to his own devices…but he’d already said he wouldn’t leave Charpentier and the kid to swing.

He should have asked what his old friend’s solution was before he’d said that.

“I won’t…” He sighed. “Look, I’m retired, and I was never a good soldier, but I can jump for you. Just this one, then I’m out.”

“That’s all I need, Ivan,” Charpentier promised. “This should be safe enough. I know Restoya can do it.”

“Karl…I’ve seen the Navy’s records on the Black Pulsar Race,” Ivan said. “A quarter of the competitors don’t come back. A quarter. Just…keep that in mind, okay?”

2

“Welcome to the Mage Guild of the Xanth System; how may I help you?”

Ivan couldn’t help but smile at the perky cheerfulness of the young man behind the desk. Serendipity City’s office of