Realspace Real Chase by J.S. Morin

Author:J.S. Morin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643555775
Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press

Long, haunting notes carried throughout the performance hall. A solo violinist perched, eyes half-lidded, upon a stool, beneath a spotlight, before the eyes of a hundred of her crew who’d either earned tickets or won them through the ship’s lottery. Bach’s Partita for solo violin No. 2 in D minor was their reward, though she’d have played it alone for her own enjoyment—and had on many occasions.

All around Emily on the stage, dancers gave an interpretation of the music more felt than rehearsed, though the admiral had instructed them on the anticipated tone of each section of the performance. She’d painted each of them herself that very afternoon, and they wore nothing else. Once the reviews of tonight’s show came out, there would be potential for commendations, which in turn might eventually result in promotions.

Emily would abide no underlings without soul.

Even tone-deaf and chicken-footed Wizard Patroclus penned romantic detective novels that kept the crew rapt when they came out, roughly twice a year.

For now, however, Emily felt her way through the piece. Strong, callused, practiced fingers echoed the music of her own spirit rather than simply playing a series of notes.

When the piece ended, Emily felt the reservoir of her soul empty out.

Thunderous applause rose. A standing ovation. Emily stood on the crossbar of the three-meter-tall stool, showing off the balance of a lifelong ballerina as she swept into a bow. Two of the dancers took her violin and bow. Another two aided her dismount. A fifth brought over a silk robe and her glasses—for she’d played wearing nothing but paint herself.

She accepted the well-wishes of her crew with grace and dignity. A glass of Cabernet and a pipe packed with her favorite mix of peyote, marijuana, and raspberry leaf passed themselves into her hands. She blew a smoke ring before departing stage left.

“What is it?” she demanded. “I caught the signal. I had planned for Moonlight Sonata. The piano was waiting in the wings. This ought to be urgent.”

Her intelligence operative, Luisa, nodded. “We have a missive from Operator Obscura 7—his own codename, ma’am—regarding the Arete.”

“Is he on an active comm right now?” Egad, this would have been the time to cut ties. No covert operative ought to be waiting on hold for a superior to come to the comm.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then what could possibly be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until after the performance?”

“The information was time sensitive. The Arete is traveling interplanetary in realspace. Apparently, their star-drive is nonfunctional.”

Well, now. That was interesting. Unfortunate, since she wasn’t ready to act. But interesting. In need of immediate attention, even. She had to head to the bridge and take command of the situation.

However, there was the small matter of her crowd. They had seen the program. They were expecting Moonlight Sonata.

“I’m heading to the bridge.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You are heading onstage.”

“Ma’am?”

“You aren’t going to ‘ma’am’ your way out of this. Elmoor may not have Juilliard’s reputation galactically, but you’ll do Orion proud.”

“But…” Luisa glanced down at Emily’s exposed collarbone, where teal and pink paints peeked on her non-violin side.

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