Pulsar Race (Starship’s Mage #9.5) - Glynn Stewart Page 0,5

were one letter off on their initials—and most people who knew both figured that was intentional on the MISS’s part.

“No one in the MIS owes me favors,” Ivan told her with a smile. “And I need to know how deep I’ve got myself.”

Theodore shrugged.

“You still have most of your clearances,” she conceded. “Need to know is iffy in this case, but we don’t really lock down civilian organized crime data the same way as we would, say, somebody’s covert ops.”

Ivan spread his hands in a shrug as he leaned back in his chair. Nothing in the MISS office was particularly high-quality. There was an active attempt to make the whole place as plain and uncomfortable as possible, probably to keep people from asking too many questions.

“I don’t know or care about anyone’s covert ops,” he admitted. “I care about whether la Cosa Nostra is going to put a bullet in me for jumping Karl Charpentier’s ship.”

“I’ll have to do some digging,” Theodore told him. “And I don’t owe you that many favors, Ivan. Buy me dinner?”

He chuckled.

“Is that remotely appropriate?” he asked her. He was reasonably sure she didn’t mean it in a romantic sense, though he could be wrong.

“Favors for favors,” she said. “If something I turn up manages to actually be classified in a way I can’t share, dinner won’t buy that. But most of what I can do for you is poke into theoretically public records with tools you don’t have. Reasonably appropriate, so long as I do it in my off hours.”

“I can do dinner, but my time is pretty crunched,” Ivan said thoughtfully. “I need to be aboard Restoya by morning, and I’ve still got a pile of errands to run through.”

“I’m booked tonight as it is,” Theodore said. “Consider it a rain check. You’re coming back, or are you on Restoya for good?”

“Even if I’m on Restoya for good, Karl’s kid is at a boarding school here,” Ivan said. “We’ll be back.”

He hadn’t told her about the race. He wasn’t sure he wanted to admit to anyone just what Karl Charpentier was planning.

“I’ll email you then,” she told him. “And you can get me a nice dinner when you’re next in town.”

“It’s a deal,” Ivan promised.

She smirked.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “I look forward to it. I’ll send you what I find. Now get out of my office before someone starts thinking you’ve blown our cover.”

“Jessie…I’m not sure anyone who actually cares doesn’t know where your office is,” Ivan said.

“You know that, and I know that, and even my boss knows that,” Theodore said. “But there are appearances to keep up! We are spies, after all!”

One of the advantages of living in a planetary capital was the ready availability of both taxis and public transit. Ivan had moved back home months earlier and still hadn’t acquired a vehicle of his own yet.

It was mid-autumn in Serendipity, though, and the weather was perfect for him to walk home. The Maple Leaf office was only two kilometers from his home, and the store he wanted to stop in at was on the route.

He could call a taxi, but it felt lazy and he was still getting used to having ready access to outside. If he was going to ship out on Restoya, he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d get to be outside again, either.

He was most of the way to the store and enjoying a gentle breeze when a low-slung dark red groundcar pulled to a stop next to him. There was nothing around for the vehicle to be stopping for, and Ivan unconsciously stepped away and summoned a small amount of his magic. Sparks glittered around his concealed fist as a large woman in a pitch-black suit stepped out of the car.

Something in the way she moved told him she was armed, but she only bowed slightly to him.

“My employer would like to speak with you, Mage-Captain Halloway.”

“Do I know your employer, miss…”

“No,” she said calmly. “He would like to speak with you anyway.”

Ivan looked around him, trying not to feel panicked. There was no one close enough to intervene if the woman got violent. He could take her down, but he needed more of a reason than a rude invitation.

“I must decline your kind invita—”

“Get in the car, Mage Halloway,” the stranger cut him off, flicking back her suit jacket to reveal the matte-black shape of a weapon of some kind. Hopefully, it was a stungun with the taser SmartDarts that, theoretically, wouldn’t kill