Barns’ oddball Power was somehow related to altering probability and coming out with favorable results. “You’re using your magic right now, I hope?”
“Don’t fret, Sullivan. This part is always a little tense, but then afterwards, we have a drink and a laugh at the Imperium’s expense.” The look of intense concentration on the young man’s face suggested he was, in fact, using his Power. “Good times.”
“Shit. I’m getting a better side view,” the teleradar operator said. “That’s definitely a Kaga.”
Everybody on the bridge died a little inside. That was the most advanced airship in the Imperium’s arsenal. It had more conventional firepower than a Great War battleship, several hundred extra pairs of eyes on the lookout, armor that the Traveler wouldn’t even be able to dent, and worst of all, a Peace Ray, which could vaporize anything in its line of sight. “If that thing sees us, there ain’t no running.” Sullivan said.
Barns grinned. “Like I said, good times.”
Southunder was chewing on one knuckle. “Any signs of surface ships, Mr. Black?”
“None yet, Captain. Hard to tell. Surface is choppy as hell.”
“Stay on this heading and descend to five hundred feet, Barns.”
“Gonna be rough winds that close to the deck,” Barns said, but it was more of a warning than an argument. The pilot had already started to comply
“Not as choppy as being obliterated by a Peace Ray. We’re burning a lot of magic right now. I’d hate to pass too close if they’ve got a tuned-up Finder aboar—”
CRACK! BOOM!
That time Sullivan did flinch, but it was more from the flash and electrical snap than any movement of their vessel. The actual airship had barely moved, but all of the tubes and lights on the bridge had either gone black or were flickering unsteadily.
“Peace Ray!” someone shouted.
Idiot. If it had been a Peace Ray, they’d already be ashes.
“Lightning strike,” Southunder stated. He turned around in his captain’s chair and looked to his Torch. “Ori! Status?”
Lady Origami was so quiet and tended to always position herself so far out of sight that it was easy to forget she was even around. The Torch placed one diminutive hand on a bulkhead and closed her eyes. Torches had to have some sort of mental view of their surroundings relating to fire, much as a well-practiced Heavy did with gravity, or like Faye had with that weird head map she’d gone on about. Always curious when it came to magic, Sullivan decided that he’d have to interview Lady Origami for his notes, assuming they didn’t blow up in the next few seconds at least. “I stopped some sparks. Bags clear and happy.”
The bridge crew all quit holding their breath. Sullivan realized that all of the hair on his body was standing on end.
“So we’re not going to explode. Yet.” Southunder turned to the teleradar operator. “Did that strike illuminate us? Are any of the Imperium altering course?”
“Teleradar is out,” Black answered. “I’m blind.” He slid out of his chair and opened a panel on the side of the machine. Smoke came wafting out. The smell of burnt wiring hit everyone’s nostrils. “Shit.”
Without that UBF toy, they could blunder right into an Imperium ship. “One of my knights, Schirmer, is a Fixer,” Sullivan said.
“Fetch him,” Southunder ordered. “And the UBF engineer too.”
One of the crew picked up a mouthpiece and began turning the charge handle. “Damn it. Horn’s fried.”
“I’ll get them.” Sullivan turned to leave. He was just a useless spectator up here anyway.
“Good.” Southunder’s attention was on keeping them in one piece. “There’s a Crackler among your knights. Make sure he’s awake and have him point the lightning elsewhere.”
Wish I would have thought of that before, Sullivan thought as he left the bridge.
“And you’ve got a Torch. Have him be ready to help Ori in case things get out of hand.” Southunder called after him.
“Captain!” Lady Origami sounded very indignant at the idea of her actually needing help.
The Traveler was being hammered by the wind. Walking down the corridors was difficult, even for somebody who was close personal friends with the laws of gravity. Barns sure hadn’t been lying about it being rough closer to the ocean, and the whole ship was getting a kick in the pants.
“Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
Sullivan turned to see Dr. Wells. The alienist had walked right up behind him without even making a sound. The fellow had to be near as quiet as Heinrich to pull that off, either that or Sullivan’s ears were still ringing from the lightning strike. He had already sent Schirmer and the UBF Fixer up top, and alerted Cracklers to keep them from getting blasted again, so he figured he had a minute before he went back to being anxious and useless on the bridge. “What is it, Doc?”
“Could you spare a minute?”
“That depends. You gonna complain some more about your living conditions?”
“It’s not the Ritz, but it is a bit better than the hole at Rockville. Not by much. But no, I’ve got something for you.” Wells always talked too loud. Like he thought he was on stage or something. He held up a stack of papers. “This is a profile of our target. I’ve taken everything your Grimnoir spies had about him, plus I interviewed Toru rather extensively about this Master Saito. It is not ideal using secondhand and biased observations, but I believe this will help deal with our imposter Chairman.”
Sullivan took the neatly typed stack of papers. “We have a typewriter on board?”
“Yes. The UBF men came rather prepared. I don’t know what they expected to do with all of those office supplies in a war zone, but be thankful because you probably wouldn’t be able to read my handwriting. Legible penmanship is a sign of a boring mind.”
Sullivan scanned the first page, then the second, then the third. It helped that he could read faster than anyone he knew. Wells had put together a very detailed list of every action the Grimnoir knew the new Chairman had taken since the real Okubo Tokugawa’s death, complete with a hypothesis about what each act meant.
The alienist seemed really proud of his work. “Toru was rather impatient with my questioning. I really don’t know how anyone manages to put up with that pushy Iron Guard, but we are lucky to have someone who was once a student of Saito’s.”
“Bit more than that, ain’t it?”
“Indeed. Our obstinate friend tried to make his observations all sound as if they were personal, but I could tell many of his opinions had been formulated by old Master Hattori. It is almost as if Toru has a whole extra person in his head with the memories that were forced upon him by the dear deceased ambassador. That is a fascinating situation, which if I had more time, and a more agreeable and less impatiently violent subject, I would love to study further… Oh, if only I could absorb one other person’s life experiences like that, I do believe it would have to be John Keats… Or perhaps Jack the Ripper.”
“Gibberish.”
“No, really. It would be fascinating to know what made such a mind tick.”
“I mean your papers. This is junk.”
“Please, Sullivan. We both know the dumb lug routine you utilize is a defense mechanism of yours. Don’t pretend you haven’t picked up enough Latin to reason your way through the correct terminology.”
“I brought you into this because Bradford Carr thought you were some sort of man-hunter. He said your results rival a Justice.” Sullivan leafed through the sheets. “This is nothing but guesswork.”
Wells was holding onto the walls to keep from being knocked down as the Traveler swayed. “Then I’m afraid you misunderstand the fundamental science behind predicting behavior. All of us are merely a sum of our experiences. Psychology isn’t algebra, where you give me a few variables and I will solve for X. Psychology is an art, but I understand people as well as you know gravity. The information I have is spotty, but sufficient. It is really rather simple.”