Magician Interrupted (9 page)

Paris sat down quickly knowing what was
coming next while the others moved to her. He hid his smiles and
strapped back in.

“I want that cleaned. Now!”

“Look, kitty cat…” Jackson said thinking
something was really wrong. Paris glanced behind as their leader
poked his head in to the bathroom. “It’s not that—”

“I SAID NOW, MARINE!”

Paris removed his fingers from his ears and
heard commotion as they cleaned the toilet for Path. While he
resumed reading Path was shrieking instructions making sure it was
up to her standards.

After twenty they entered Tasia’s atmosphere
and were jerked around in their seats again. There was a final
clump
and
thump
and the hatch opened. By this stage
they had all unbuckled and collected their gear. Paris found every
movement a struggle.

“Activate your antigrav suits.”

Paris barely managed to lift his arm to try
to press the soft button on his shoulder pad.

“Shit, man, you aliens are weak.” Kabab
pressed it for him.

Jackson pressed Path’s for her. In the dim
light provided by the ranger she batted her eyelids at him. As they
moved past Paris hissed, “What are you doing flirting on the
mission? Let Jackson concentrate, our ruddy lives are at
stake.”

She blushed. “Oops. I’ve never been in this
form for as long.”

Paris’s mind went blank before the panic set
in. “Will that be a problem?”

She avoided his eyes. “We have to go.”

It was dark and silently they ran out and
took up position. They waited while the capsule took off and was
parked in low orbit … apparently.

They moved through the jungle and saw
movement to their right. Paris peered through the thick, wet
foliage. It looked like bodies were being moved. Path was nodding
at something. Paris adjusted his earpiece. Her voice came
through.

“The way’s been cleared, we’re good to
go.”

At Jackson’s hand signal they moved in and
along a narrow stream. Every now and then they crouched. At one
point Kabab bumped in to him. He whispered, “You’re freakin’ quiet,
alien. I take you were a part of the trap section as well back on
your planet?”

“Yeah,” Paris drawled lying. He might have
bound the quiet spell too hard to his feet. At times he felt like
he wasn’t even touching the ground. When Kabab slapped him he
almost fell over.

Paris couldn’t see Messma at all, even when
right in front. The dark skin blended in with the dark night and
shrubbery. They all had masks and crap but he could see … shit,
emerald eyes glowing.

He tried to get Path’s attention.

“What the fuck is that!”

“Keep your voice down, Kab.”

“Yeah, but boss, there’s a freakin’ cat next
to you.”

“What? Don’t be stupid. Path is here. Is
there a cat?”

To Paris’s relief she said, “No.” And her
eyes narrowed to reduce the glow.

“Right, move in.”

They saw a single level building with cleared
grounds all around. They were cut off from the general announcement
so they weren’t distracted by those mopping up the dead bodies.
Paris reached the door and kept his weapons pointing out while the
others filed through the doors. He was tapped on the shoulder and
he moved in. They made a sweep and set about cleaning the blood and
righting furniture.

“Oh, shit. Top dog?”

Jackson strolled over to Chezza who was
looking at something on the wall. “We have a problem?”

“Yeah, us being the smugglers.”

“Intel said that the buyers never meet…”

“Yeah, but they aint human. These dudes have
special vocal cords.”

Jackson studied them again. “You’re
right.”

Paris was staring at Path who had opened her
mouth. She closed it. Jackson had turned back and noticed.
“Paris?”

He looked at Jackson. “Nothing.”

Path struggled and then said, “I can make
voice boxes. I
am
the comms techy chick.”

Paris scowled at the guys who migrated to
her.

Jackson said, “You little gem.”

Paris left the room disgusted as they gushed
over her. He was supposed to be the hero! He stomped through to his
allocated room and threw himself on the bunk. After several minutes
Path snuck in and closed the door.

“Paris?”

He felt sulky. “What?”

“I need you to cast a spell to the thing I
make.” She sat down next to him and placed a tiny hand on his arm.
She still looked tiny in her anti-grav suit while he felt like a
bulky lump.

“What’s your plan?”

“I’ll make up a little voice alternating
device, three of them since the conference calls were always with
three, strap it around their necks, and you, as the medic checks
it.”

As far as plans went it wasn’t bad.
“Fine.”

“Don’t you want this mission to succeed,
Paris?”

“Yes, I want it to succeed. We are actually
doing good here.” He turned his head to her. Catching the ring of
smugglers would stop many more from dying. “This was my chance to
get away, make a life, be someone.”

Her little face fell. “And I spoiled it.”

“No, not spoil. You’re a cat. You won’t
understand.”

“Paris—”

“Just leave. I don’t even know why you are
here. I’m sure Jac—”

When her lips locked on to his he couldn’t
think. He was so dazed that he allowed her to continue until
finally he could respond. When she lifted her head she was
smiling.

“I’m here because I love you.”

Paris started laughing.

“Wasn’t that nice?” She touched her pink
lips.

He touched her round face. “Yes, that was
nice. But the reason I joined the marines was to find myself a girl
who’d like me. Instead she came with me. Why didn’t you say
something?”

“Because I was mostly a cat. Since taking
this form I’ve grown a different attachment and I wanted to make
sure it was you I liked.” She blushed. “Especially after that
drooling incident where I was actually thinking of you on
stage.”

Paris sat up and helped her up. He felt
better joining the marines now. He owed them. “Come on. You’ve got
those things to make.”

She smiled her Cheshire cat smile and moved
with him. He leaned down and whispered when her hand was on the
door handle, “I love you too.”

If he was a true marine he’d be thinking of
what other handle he’d like that small hand on. No, he was thinking
of those things! He truly was a marine now as his world was filled
with bravado and double meanings.

Before he could laugh at himself Path flung
her arms around him. “I’m sorry I dug my claws into your head.”

He chuckled. “I lived. I’ll need a recording
of their voices. Can you fit that into your plan?”

“Sure can!”

After Path attached the last device on
Jackson Paris inspected the item and touched both it and the neck
it was attached to. He bound the spell and the guys walked around
testing their new voices.

At the right time they sat in front of a
monitor.

At first the buyers didn’t want to talk
without image but they didn’t want to lose out on their supplies.
They agreed on a pick up date and ordered some extra supplies as
well.

Paris and Path became familiar with the
storeroom in case any last minute things were requested. After that
they all had two days.

On the day Paris and Path were to remain in
the back and help with supplies while Jackson, Chezza and Messma
negotiated.

Kabab’s was the main stalker.

Well, that’s what Path called him. He stalked
around doing recons in the jungle worried about the cats. They sat
in the supply room waiting. A tablet sat on Path’s legs so that
when Jackson called—

“Do you think of O’rah, Gareth or Harro?”

“No. Do you?”

“No, they didn’t like me anyway. O’rah
complained about the cat hair all the time … and spray.”

Paris tried not to laugh. “I remember. You
seemed to only do that when she was home.”

Path giggled and then touched her device.
“We’re on. Everyone ready?”

Paris saw Path nodding.

They all checked in.

“What’s happening in there?” Path asked,
curiosity killing her.

“I’d imagine no news is good news… Path!” He
snuck with her and they peered through a crack in the counter.

“Where are the amigos?” A rough voice was
asking.

They couldn’t see him.

“We’re the amigos now, comrade.” Jackson said
in a voice not his own and not from the device. “We’ve always run
these operations. How do you think you’ve been getting such classy
supplies?”

“Ah, we had wondered.”

“We’re expanding our operations like the
Robin Hood legends. Except we’re stealing from the establishment
and giving to the rebels.”

“Long live the revolution!”

Paris felt sick.

Path’s eyes widened and she turned from the
scene. “I’m going to… Those bastards!”

Paris held her hands. “We just need to get
out of here.”

They snuck to the back and tried the door.
Just as they opened it Messma loomed over them.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Paris pushed Path behind him.

Messma said, “One of the crooks is hurt.
We’ve gotta heal him. They put him in the medic’s ward.”

“I thought we didn’t heal the enemy?” Paris’s
suspicions were mounting.

“Don’t be stupid. We just want you to knock
him out. We need the transaction to go through before we can move
in.”

“Oh. Right. We’ll take care of it.”

“Good, I’ve got the ground and roof top
crawling with bastards.” He pulled out a knife.

Paris said, “Good hunting.”

Messma grinned at him. “Now you’re a marine
who watches the good shows.”

He and Path moved to the medic’s ward.

“Cloud his mind, Path.”

Her little round face grew hard with
concentration and then she nodded. “He’s under.”

Path looked him over noting a bite mark on
his neck. It was swollen and his lips slightly blue.

In his ear Chezza’s voice was loud, “We need
that fucker back. They aren’t moving until they see him. Shit,
Paris. We’re dead.”

“Relax, I’ve got it.”

Whatever Chezza was going to say Paris cut
him off.

Path put a hand on his arm. “Are you sure? It
could be an act?”

He had considered it. They didn’t really know
anything about the marines or their unit or who was running the
ranger. They were just two small nobodies taking orders. But he
wasn’t responsible for that. Paris debated on getting he and Path
out but he knew there was another option.

“Get your dagger out, and mine. Place it
around my waist somewhere. If we’re wrong we’ll have to fight our
way out.”

“I trust you.”

Paris raised his hands, recalling the best
incantation for bites and anaphylactic reactions. Power surged from
him and into his hands down to the male. He bound the spell to the
male and watched as color improved and breathing eased. Slowly the
muscles twitched and eyes opened.

Paris nodded to Path who cleared the
smuggler’s mind. The smuggler got up and walked, a little
unsteadily, back into the main room. They walked out and back to
the supply room. Path checked her tablet seeing a number of
orders.

“We’re going to kiss you, alien. When this is
over.”

Paris touched his ear and laughed, filled
with relief.

He helped Path and they bundled up the items
shoving them through the hatch before closing it quickly.

When Chezza came through he was holding a
knife wound. Paris quickly eased him on the chair and attended to
his wound, binding one of the spells he made to stem bleeding and
begin knitting. He did inject real painkiller. They heard a massive
explosion and the room shook. Paris and Path ran out with guns
pointing and joined in. Paris hit one smuggler just as he was
raising his gun while Jackson shot another about to hit Paris. Path
was slicing the neck of another and Chezza staggered in to
help.

After the fight Paris quickly checked
everyone over, ignoring the pleas from their enemy. Jackson
smiled.

“I’ll need you to save at least two for the
trial.”

Paris breathed out in relief.

These were marines, and they were now his
family.

He didn’t feel such a nerd anymore. In fact,
Messma was nerdier than he was but seemed comfortable in his
skin.

It took days to sort through the operation
but another team moved in and they took their R&R on a little
beach on another continent.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you. We were
short on the mission and I refused until we had full numbers.”

“And now?” Paris asked, holding his breath
trying not to look like a hopeful puppy.

“Now, and it’s unanimous—” he looked at the
others “—we want you to continue to be a part of our team.”

Joy filled Paris. It wasn’t quite the life he
was expecting and often moments were duller than watching paint
dry, but when it came to it, he felt a part of something.

“So, now you two are together we can’t have
you working in the same squad, even though you seem a good
team.”

Path pouted and Paris saw her about to do one
of her mind tricks. He shook his head slightly and she crossed her
arms over her chest. She looked cute in her bathing costume.

Jackson leaned forward across the little
table and lifted his sunglasses so they could see his blue eyes
full of mischief.

“So, here are the choices. Path stays onboard
the Yawka as mascot, where she was supposed to be. Or she joins
another squad. No offence, Path, but we need Paris more—”

Paris couldn’t help the warmth that flooded
through him with that but Path looked happy for him.

“—or, Paris, you’re the nominated leader
next. You could make a little sub-clause hard-to-find in our rather
lofty manual?”