EASTPORT, ITALY.
Near sundown, Non successfully obtained a ticket online. He’d be boarded as a horse.
“Will you be okay on the ferry by yourself? I’m planning to sleep at home tonight.”
“Sure, but please fill my feedbag at the feed store. Nuts and bugs if they have any for Picoid.”
Culpeper dismounted. An old grey equitaur in a tattered red jacket approached, startling him.
“Bonds Livery right over there, sir, very good trade options, best in town.” The equitaur took one look at the horse, then back to Culpeper. The sales patter vanished. “And an interesting horse, sir. I could add the color that’s missing from his head.”
“Not for sale or trade,” said Culpeper.
“Of course not sir, I just need 5 planck to buy a Ferry ticket. Surely you can afford that.”
‘Don’t ask a question that can be answered with yes.’
“Who is Lagen?” asked the fake horse.
“I have a brother named Lagen Cruciger with a swooshy pattern.”
“Sir, this is my uncle Psykter.”
Culpeper sighed, then handed the old equitaur a 10♇ coin and a scrap. “Go get two tickets with this code and for yourself.” Culpeper released Non’s girth belt as Psykter walked to the ferry office. Culpeper shouldered the saddle and went to the feed shop.
║ A SIGN OVER THERE MENTIONS PUPS FOR SALE. BORDER COLLIE – BLUE HEELER MIXES! TRAINED!
Ñ̰ I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO BE A GERMAN SHEPHERD.
║ BORDER COLLIES ARE ALSO GOOD. I’M READING ABOUT BLUE HEELERS.
Culpeper came back with a sack and Picoid eating from his hand.
“Sir, could you take my badge, bird and collar to see the pups? Picoid, please share visuals.”
The owners of All Under Control were Anthro collies, but plenty of 4-on-the-floor collies watched alertly. Other collies helped guide animals onto the ferry.
Psykter returned. “I upgraded us to a private two horse stall. We board in a half hour.”
“Could you take me to a privacy area?” Non let Psykter lead the way.
“Are these pups suitable for a control collar?” asked Culpeper, holding it up.
“Most of them are, that’s standard,” answered a heeler. “The collars suggest more than control.”
║ THAT BLACK AND WHITE ONE.
An arrow appeared over a half year old pup. He barked once, studying the arrow, then returned his gaze to the proceedings.
“150 planck for him. Did you want to try the collar?”
‘So much money. 150 tanks of gas.’
Culpeper placed the collar on the alert pup.
║ WE’RE CONNECTED ALREADY! BE RIGHT BACK.
Guided by Tycho, the pup ran once around the stockyard then returned.
║ PLEASE GET HIM!
Picoid whispered to Culpeper, who handed over Non’s badge.
“Twenty percent agent discount, so 120 planck. Let me scan this. Are you his supervisor? Excellent. I’ve sent copies of the papers and registration to the badge.”
║ LET’S CALL HIM ICO!
Moments later, they regrouped at the large animal boarding area.
“Take good care of them,” said Culpeper. He returned the badge to the fake horse.
“We might need another three planck for the pup and bird,” said Psykter.
Culpeper gave Psykter an even stare, then handed over a handful of smaller coins.
“Thanks. Horse, let’s go,” said Psykter. Leaving Culpeper behind, he showed the tickets.
“Thanks, Culpeper. Non enjoyed the ride,” said Picoid.
“And thank you, 841. Providence tells us to respect our elders and I see the truth of that in you. I questioned Non’s decision when I first met you, but now I see his wisdom,” said Culpeper. “I’ll stay and see the ferry off, then I’ll head home and sleep.”
The ticket checker did her check. “Psykter. I thought Barnes didn’t pay until tomorrow.”
“Taking care of a horse for a friend, Freyja. Thanks so much for that stollen a few weeks ago.”
“You’re welcome. Head on in, all the way in back. Number three.”
Following directions, Psykter opened private stall number three, then closed after the fake horse. He put his bag and purchases on a shelf.
“I’m not actually a horse,” said Non, dropping the fake horsehead screen from False Impression. He put Chyron’s saddlebag on the shelf. “Still dealing with my Earthself dying a week ago.”
“I’m shocked, shocked to find that out. My Earthself died in World War 2. Good to meet you, nephew.”
“I’m Non Sequitur. Non. Thanks for the assist. I wasn’t even alive then.”
“Neither was I, on Earth. Thanks for being an easy mark. I needed the money.”
║ MAY ICO WALK AROUND? HE’S TRAINED ON THIS FERRY FOR TWO ROUND TRIPS.
Ᵽ I’LL ALSO STAY OUT.
Non opened the door to let them out.
“I thought you were retired, Psykter.”
“I retired at age 100. I was born with the Spanish Flu. I died in the Battle of Stalingrad and did horse breeding before and after. A German Cavalry Officer. Oh, we have a taur-sized fold-out bunk here.”
“Dad didn’t mention this.”
As Psykter turned angry, Non recognized his own body signals. His uncle spoke quietly but harshly, though he calmed upon mentioning his colt self.
“Hitler didn’t let us surrender. My horse died of starvation. My remaining men ate him. That was my last meal before I got shot on Gumrak Airfield. I woke up as an equitaur colt just as bombs started dropping. My agent lost three different portals. One bomb caused the scar on my back left leg. The 4th portal, behind a wall riddled with bullets, that portal worked fine.”
“We’re off to a great start,” said Non.
“Don’t worry. I was disillusioned way before the Russians hit us with Operation Uranus.”
“I’m surprised anyone could have followed him,” said Non.
“I’m not proud of it. He had all the right lies and all the right enemies. Snazzy outfits. Slogans. Big marches. A great customer for fancy horses. He claimed he could fix high inflation. Skip forward 70 years and I bragged about battle prowess to the wrong people. Nobody likes either Nazis or ex-Nazis.”
“What do you think of GenePool, here on Icarus?”
Psykter spoke slowly through clenched teeth. “A master race allusion, nephew? I swear, it never ends. We’re equines! You just bought a pup bred for herding. A body depends on original DNA from parents, tweaks by geneticists, diet, exercise, surgery, character concept, education, training and memory inputs from Earth. Genetic purity is at best an illusion. Does that answer make you happy?”
Non held up his hands as his uncle figured out his intent. “Sorry, bad question.”
“I remember your Dad wrote when your Earthself waffled on having snakes. Despite Naga’s misgivings, they had a geneticist nip snakes on the future Nonce.”
Non winced. “I like Chyron’s snakes, but I’ve seen people react poorly.”
“So everyone treats you well as an equitaur?”
Non laughed sardonically, then felt the ship leave the dock. “No. Hardly. Could we eat and get some sleep? I’m exhausted.”
“Sure, kid. Did you want the bunk?” asked Psykter.
‼ CULPEPER: WE’VE VERIFIED THAT DR. MAYHEM AND MURPHY ROTHS LARGE ARE AT THE CECROPS CHOPS KNIFE FACTORY. MAYHEM APPARENTLY DYING. CURRENTLY MONITORING THE SITUATION SINCE NO CURRENT THREATS ARE KNOWN.
“One moment, Icosian, send thanks for the apprisal. There’s bunks on both sides. How many relatives do I have through you?”
“On paper, I’m a gay bachelor. But I bred mares under five stallion names. My geneticist friend kept things normal. It’ll be a big scandal eventually. I wasn’t expecting to live this long. Heck, I’ve already recovered from surgery three nights ago.”
“Surgery? What was wrong with you?”
“Me? Lots of things. As your elder, I can predict your biological future if you’d like. Anyways, as I did midnight mucking at the livery, two gals offered me ten planck to be a tissue and blood donor. They knew I had regeneration. I talked them up to paying off some debts, getting a sub for me and fifteen planck. Then I went to the hospital with them. Wasn’t too bad, I woke up sore but super clean. And now – oatmeal, raisins and coconut. My favorite.” Psykter buried his nose in a sack.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“My Dad gifted Trust your Gut to me three days ago. I nearly died that night. Whatever they took out of you likely went into me.” Non started on beets and carrots.
Ñ̰ CORONIS, REMEMBER MY TRAVEL PATTERN. YOU CAN RELAX UNTIL TOMORROW.
⸎ THANKS. DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOT. I’D PREFER LEFT TAURJOIN. I’VE MADE A BULLSEYE FOR OPTIMALITY.
Non pulled out the syringe, alcohol swab and prescription vial.
Psykter looked on. “Do you know what you’re doing with that?”
“I’ve never given myself a shot. 3CC IM?”
“Intramuscular. Goes in at a 90 degree angle. Want me to do it? At my age, I should get an honorary doctorate.” His uncle’s shot hurt less than when Chyron did it.
Eventually, both slept.
║ SHARING AUDIOVISUAL FROM ICO. HE’S KEEPING THE SHEEP IN LINE. PICOID HAS JOINED TO MAKE THIS MORE VIVID.
----------------------------------------
A bright red, four-armed robot with CLAW MACHINE on its chest spoke to a mouse on a screen.
“Relax, Murphy. Sure, I got delayed, but I’m underway now. I’ll be there in the morning.”
“I heard that an equitaur boarded?” said Murphy.
“Relax, that’s Psykter. He’s been here for months, doing odd jobs. He touched up my paint job last week for just half a planck.” It spun about a massive clawed arm to impress itself.
“Is he related to our equitaurs?” asked Murphy.
“Nobody cared before Mayhem took over the plan, Murphy. Let me look that up for you. Psykter, right on GenePool. Brother of Lagen Cruciger.”
“He’s on the sidelines but still breathing? I’ve looked at this page a dozen times, never thought to look at the grays. Half a planck? Try to hire him for five planck. If he doesn’t go for that, find out why.”
“Psykter’s alive, and he’ll go for it. Every target can become a client with the right incentive. How’s Mayhem doing?”
“Dying. He’s in a high Gauss zone to prevent further character updates. He’d been on a decline and gaining weight for a month, but the taur-hydra infection turned it all nasty. It’s almost like he has radiation poisoning. Once he gets the serum, he’s hoping for answers. He has a list of tests for me to try.”
“Got it right here.” Claw Machine tapped its chest. “And not high Gauss, that’s CGS. It’s Tesla now, SI units. How much have you lost money-wise?”
“Me? My old man hasn’t let me put my chips in, yet. I would have lost a fortune,” said Murphy.
“When profit isn’t your north star, you’re headed for a black hole. What happens if Mayhem doesn’t pull through?”
“Depends. Might be the Caesars. Could be Carotid. Could be you. Or maybe my dad will give me the boot. I’m hoping Mayhem sticks around.”
“I’ve heard Carotid has gone rogue,” said Claw Machine.
“Right. We’ll see tomorrow.” Murphy Roth Large hung up.
----------------------------------------
║ THAT’S IT. CLAW MACHINE PLUGGED INTO A RECHARGING STATION NEXT TO ME.
Ñ̰ WOW. THANKS, ICO AND TYCHO. A LOT TO CHEW ON THERE.
Non lay there in the dark, listening to his uncle’s old-horse wheezing. ‘In 40 years, I might sound like that.’ He drafted a report for the Claw-Murphy conversation, then reviewed his ToDo list and various tasks. Topping the list: Recuperate and Travel to Base (Lerna Springs). In sidequests, he had Smuggle Drugs to help his apparent nemesis Dr. Usher Mayhem. ‘Am I being an idiot?’ Claw Machine had the rest of the drugs. He’d need to talk to Psykter in the morning on how to proceed.
Adriatic Sea. Middle of the night.
Non dreamed of Psykter going through the saddlebag and touching the gun, then pulling out the Enchiridion of Ñ̰. All in hazy grayscale.
⸎ NO NEED TO BE STARTLED. I’VE PULLED YOU TO CONSCIOUSNESS. THE DREAM IS REAL.
Non kept his eyes shut as Psykter left the room and closed the door.
Ᵽ HE’S ASKING A BACTER ABOUT THE FACILITIES.
Non went back to sleep.
Ᵽ A HALF HOUR HAS PASSED. SHARING A CHAT BETWEEN PSYKTER AND CLAW MACHINE. ISN’T SPYING FUN?
“CLAW! DIDN’T EXPECT TO SEE YOU HERE.”
“I’M ON A TEDIOUS ERRAND. SO YOU’RE FINALLY GOING HOME, PSYKTER?”
“JOINING FAMILY. I BURNED TOO MANY BRIDGES HERE. SIDE EFFECT OF SCREWING UP A WARDEN JOB.”
“WHAT HAPPENED?”
“I REPLACED COMPETENT STRANGERS WITH IDIOT FRIENDS, THEN STARTED BORDER BATTLES. ACTUALLY WON MOST OF THEM. BUT THAT ALL REVERSED AFTER TEN YEARS. GOT SACKED FOR MISMANAGEMENT. I COASTED AS A RARE SPECIES UNTIL RECENTLY.”
“YOU KEPT THAT PART OF YOUR RESUME UNDER WRAPS WHILE SPIFFING UP MY CHASSIS.”
PSYKTER GRIMACED. “HIDE YOUR FAULTS IF YOU WANT TO BE HIRED. I HAD TO PROVE MY UTILITY FOR FOOD.”
CLAW ACCEPTED THAT. “TRUE. I EXPECT PAYMENT TO HEAR PROBLEMS. WHILE A WARDEN, DID YOU EVER TALK TO LESTER?”
“LONGTIME WARGAMING FRIEND. SCIPIO’S EXPECTING A MOVE FROM ME IN A GAME.”
“HE’S BEEN ARRESTED FOR UNAUTHORIZED SUPERWEAPON DEVELOPMENT. PROFESSOR MIRZARBEAU OF THE VIOLET FLAME. BASED ON TESLA’S VIOLET RAY. THE LESTER ALIAS WAS THE BOOK’S HERO.”
“PEOPLE CHANGE. HE’LL STAY SCIPIO LESTER TO ME. ARE YOU A SUPERWEAPON, CLAW?”
“A WISE MERCENARY KEEPS THEIR FULL ARSENAL UNDER WRAPS. WALKING AROUND AS A KNOWN SUPERWEAPON IS LIKE HAVING A TARGET PAINTED ON YOUR BACK.”
PSYKTER CHUCKLED. “YOU TURNED THAT AROUND ON ME.”
CLAW MACHINE’S GEARS WHIRRED IN RESPONSE. “GUILTY AS CHARGED. ON ANOTHER NOTE, I COULD USE A HAND ON MY TREK.”
“WHAT KIND OF HELP?” ASKED PSYKTER. “I’M TOO BIG AND TOO OLD BE A SIDEKICK.”
CLAW LAUGHED MECHANICALLY. “NOT SURE YET, YOU’RE JUST SOMEONE I KNOW.”
“I’M HEADING TO MEET MY BROTHER. TO CHANGE MY PLANS, OFFER BETTER. NOW SHOO, I WANT TO GET IN SOME READING.”
“OKAY, PSYKTER.” CLAW CLANGED OFF ACROSS THE METAL DECKING.
Ᵽ THAT’S IT. NOW HE’S READING YOUR BOOK.
⸎ WE’VE LET YOU SLEEP ANOTHER HOUR. PSYKTER’S STILL OUT THERE.
Ñ̰ FINE. I’M UP. KEEP CLAW MACHINE AWAY FROM ME.
Ten minutes later, Non reached the observation deck. Psykter turned to face him.
“Non, your system fails with cavalry movements. Many games manage equestrian combat poorly. I’m salvaging DICEBAG. There is much to dislike. I find the lack of exploits both reassuring and unsettling.”
Non peered at the many neat margin notes and corrections Psykter had made with an almost empty Bic Crystal. “My Earthself had about 20 hours of horseback experience, mostly trail rides.”
Psykter gave Non a look of such genuine anger that the younger taur raised his hands in surrender.
“Why haven’t you fixed any of this?” said Psykter, pushing the book back to Non.
Psykter the Equitaur [https://i.imgur.com/9AHfWfb.png]
Non scanned through fixes and suggestions by both CCC and Psykter, tight annotations on dozens of pages. “You have a good eye for rules.”
“I’m a Kriegspiel expert, which I adapted on the field. I’ve borrowed from gamebooks and warbooks ever since. I’ll bet we get a storm.” The old taur looked out over a too calm ocean. “But no gaming for months. I lost contact with all of my wargaming acquaintances.”
The notes awed Non. “You’ve written more good material in a few hours than I could manage in months. Could you work more on this, for pay? You’re looking for a place, right?”
“I’m hoping your father can set up something for me in Pelion.”
“Lagen and Mama Naga moved to Lerna Springs, where I live. You can join the whole family.” He flipped pages. “Your notes look great.”
Psykter pointed at a section. “This garbage on equestrian maneuvers fails to such a degree that any suggestion looks great by comparison.”
‘My uncle has the same sharp edges I do. What’s the right question to ask?’
Non quelled a desire to defend himself. “Let’s head back to our stall to sleep. I’d love to have leverage over a good game writer.”
“One of those deals,” said Psykter. He spat over the railing. “Let’s hear your onerous terms.”
“I need this fixed and you have enough speed, skill and focus that I won’t need to add terms.”
They returned to the stall and settled into their bunks.
“Having salvaged your game system, I should look at your stats and character sheet.”
Ñ̰ SOMEONE SHOW MY STATS. RESEARCH CLAW MACHINE. SWEE CITED VUSHI KLOVEL, MERC MECHA HAMSTER.
♫ CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR CARE STAT HAS GAINED SUB-STAT PROG:3 FOR PROGRAMS.
🎭 DRAMA 1, 💡 IDEA 2, ❤️ CARE 2, 🏃 EVADE 1, 💪 BODY 3, ⏱️ ASAP 2, 💥 GRIT 3 (CPBAGFED, IDEA=FOCUS)
Non made his stats visible, then his full character sheet. “I should invoke these more.”
“You’re a commander, Non. Each action you discuss allows your helpers to help you more. As an officer, every night, I wrote out plans for my sergeants. I’m betting on a storm tomorrow. What plans would you invoke in a severe storm?”
“Listen to the authorities and follow safety recommendations.”
“Your government thanks you. Boring. You’re dropped into a hurricane. How do you survive?”
“I’ll outline a solution with portals and drag tracking, but after this, we should stop talking and sleep. Let’s see, I would toss my badge into the air to collect streamline patterns. Combine with local weather and turbulence theory to coax Navier-Stokes into providing safety maps.”
Non used a screen to outline more, referring to some abilities as die-icon and cherry-icon. He pulled up books relating to weather and differential geometry to help.
“Model, run and hone maps. Cherry pick to enhance Measurability. Use Coordination Sequence to plan transitions in harmony with movements tuned to local environment. How’s that?”
Psykter snored in the not-caringness of sleep.
Tired but comfortable in the lousy bed, Non drifted off to dream of storms.
The ferry rocked violently. ‘Dammit. The dream is real.’
⸎ YES, A NORTHEASTERLY HURRICANE. THUNDERBIRD AGENT ON DECK. NEARING PATRAS.
Ᵽ I’M ON MY WAY TO PATRAS. WE FINISHED THE PROGRAM YOU OUTLINED LAST NIGHT.
Non sighed and got to his hooves, stowing the fold-out bunk. Across from him, Psykter looked even older without a jacket. His program to see what data streams it accessed and formulas used, such as Crocco’s theorem. He pulled out his syringe, swabs, sealed needle and medicine.
‼ AGENT Ñ̰, THUNDERBIRDS REQUEST ASSISTANCE FOR PORTAL EVAC.
“Send a confirmation. Psykter, wake up. I’ll need to make a portal, but you’ll be faking it.”
Ñ̰ IMPLEMENT PROGRAM. UPDATE MY MAPS FOR PATRAS AND ADD WEATHER. RETURN TO BORING FIXED BODY PATTERN.
║ CLAW MACHINE APPROACHING. SIDENOTE: CCC HAS MADE A SECURITY UPDATE AVAILABLE.
Non stowed things in his feedbag and donned the fake horse head before Claw knocked.
‼ WARNING: LOCAL ARPANET RESTRICTED TO EMERGENCY USE ONLY.
“Hey, Psykter. Let me get you breakfast before the cafe closes,” said Claw Machine.
The old taur wheezed, then got up to put on his jacket. “One moment. Why is the boat rocking?”
“We’re racing a big storm. A Euroclydon. The ship could be destroyed.”
Psykter slid open the door to take in the situation on deck, looking past Claw Machine.
“Give me the money for food. Stay here and help muck the deck,” said Psykter, holding out his hand.
“What? I was going to tell you about the job.”
Psykter banged a finger on Claw Machine’s metal chest. “There is a storm coming and you have four good arms. You can do the work of eight humans! You can keep this from becoming a calamity. Now give me the money and go volunteer to save this ship! You can tell me about the job if we survive.”
║ AS ICO, I’M HELPING WITH ANIMAL CONTROL. THIS IS FUN! ALSO HELPING PICOID AT THE STOCKYARD.
Ᵽ I’VE ARRIVED AT THE STOCKYARD, NEAR A POWER SOURCE. SHARING COORDINATES.
Psykter returned to the deck slurping a smoothie he’d gotten with Claw’s money. Other able-bodied personages followed Psykter, and he directed them to the bacter in charge before bringing food to Non.
“Brought some food for you. Want to keep pretending to be a horse?”
“No. We’ll have company soon. Tell them the portal is two sided. Avoid the fractal edge.”
A bluebird joined the crowded stall. “Wow, you look different in that jacket. Set up a portal between the chair near the stairs over there.”
“I’ll handle it,” said Psykter. “Go to your next task.”
“Thanks,” said the bluebird, rushing off.
“Psykter, take my badge to the chair spot. Once the portal is up, boss people around.”
The old equitaur complied.
Non focused, then brought up the linked spheroids, one localized to the deck’s surface.
Ᵽ LOOKS GOOD HERE.
║ CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR PROPOSED PORTAL PASSES TUBULARITY CHECKS AND IS SURVIVABLE. DEPLOY?
Non invoked the psiquad manifold. He heard onlookers clapping.
“This portal is two sided,” yelled Psykter. “People, take the side near the stairs and move out of the way quickly. Don’t touch the edge. Animal handlers, get fences for the other side.”
For the next few minutes, Non concentrated on keeping the portal safe and operational as hundreds of people and animals filed through it. As the herding dogs kept the livestock moving, the ferry heaved in growing waves.
“Psykter, why did you take a livery job when you had portals?” asked Claw Machine.
“I’m finally authorized to use them. Now go!” said Psykter.
Ñ̰ ICO, HERD ME THROUGH. AND AVOID THAT SECURITY UPDATE UNTIL THINGS ARE CALM!
The Thunderbird called out, “Last chance to portal out! Anyone staying will need to stay with the boat.”
Non and Psykter simultaneously stepped through opposite sides of the portal, the last to go through. Ico herded fake horse Non to the other horses as Psykter stepped over, holding a box of Donations.
“I can’t believe that worked so well,” said Psykter, holding up the box of cash. “Better that I keep these since you might have to stay outside.” The old taur moved the saddlebags to his own back.
‘Great, he’s an opportunist.’
As Non focused on closing the portal, a violent gust of wind tore the donation box away from Psykter, flinging the coins over an acre of mud as the folding currency rushed up into the growing storm.
Psykter yelled, “No! My money!” Then he fought to keep his jacket on.
“Sorry, Psykter. I almost got to you in time. Get to a shelter after I cinch your bags,” said Claw Machine, who fastened the buckle while pointing to where other passengers were headed. Psykter looked forlornly over the mud, then ran to shelter.
Non grinned at the karma. Then the windspeed and dust picked up to where screens couldn’t be maintained. He blinked at the sudden increase in his field of view as Claw Machine turned in his direction.