Post Magic

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

left behind - chimeras rise

to lonely foster, heat, rains

Running and leaping fearlessly through gaps in the trees all the way down the mountain cut my transit time in half and soon I found myself walking through the outskirts of Puraimura. The first settlement of Renga, this city had definitely seen better days. Like so many places before it that centered their existence around one particular good or product, when that good ran out, the economy suffered. And, again like so many other cities, when the economy suffered those with vision did not suffer to stay and improve the home they knew. No, when the chaline ran dry our visionaries had moved on, creating gorgeous citadels like Chalinex and planned communities like The Fringe, or they had shipped off-planet entirely, searching for brighter pastures.

My vision was as good as anyone else’s but I had no plans to leave Prime City. Maybe the architecture was a bit dated, the art and culture provincial by galactic standards. None of that mattered to me. Prime was my home, not to mention the fact that it was the planetary headquarters for the Peoples Galactic Postal Service, Peoples Post or PGPS for short. Sure, I could work as a runner anywhere on Renga – but Prime was the heart and soul of operations. All off-world mail arrived first in Prime for sorting. You would have thought that physical mail would be a thing of the past, and in most worlds, it was. Like everything else that required computing, here on Renga that sort of communication was out. And, of course, there were always things that needed a softer touch. Messages too sensitive to transmit by galactic frequency. Heirlooms that needed to pass from hand to hand in a reliable fashion. That was where the Peoples Post came in, our bread and butter, so to speak. Mail and other supplies were delivered to the PGPS transfer station on the smallest and closest of our three orbiting moons – Hokku was more of a pebble, really, when you compared it to Sakura and Yuki – and then brought down via specially designed transports. Once sorted, post runners like me handled everything marked “Carry with Care”: the most sensitive materials. Everything else moved from city to city in large armored vehicles that ran off the galactic radiation bombarding the planet day-in and day-out. Barely a step above the earliest steam engines, considered archaic by most of the ‘verse, the trucks represented some of the best we had to work with.

Even with specially-made heavy shielding, incoming ships from Hokku could only dock for a maximum of six hours. Long enough to unload, refuel, and reload before blasting off toward Hokku again. It was common practice for teens on Renga to visit the station after they graduated school to celebrate and blow off steam, but I’d never been. There had been so much else to do, then. Partying with space hookers and trying my hand at the gaming tables had been the furthest thing from my mind. Though even I had to admit, the pictures my friend Jericha had brought back had been epic.

Right now, the grey orb of the small moon hung low in the sky above. Since the only sun in our solar system was so far away it appeared as a mere pinprick in the sky, we based our days on Hokku’s twenty-six-hour orbit. As it rose, morning began, first hour. Most schools and businesses opened at two. By the time Hokku’s pale blue orb set at the thirteenth hour, most offices had already been closed a few hours and evening began. At least, that is what our clocks told us.

In reality, our sky was an ever-shifting tapestry of nebulae, gases and dust swirling in a cacophony of color, never truly dark. Despite our distance from the central sun, the planet never cooled, warmed instead by the radiation of the nebulae and a molten core. We had the best hot springs in the ‘verse and a fantastic team of Olympic swimmers. No chimeras allowed, of course. That last bit had broken my brother’s heart. He’d been the best swimmer at our high school, but the scouts had passed him over for the totally human, absolutely non-GMO third string slacker. In other words, a regular human, or reg for short. After that, Jonah had just sort of shut down. He’d stopped talking to me, both at school and at home. After our mama died and Jiji had gotten sick, he’d run off to Chalinex, leaving me to take care of Jiji all by myself. Not that I’d minded that part of it. It just… well, if I was honest it still hurt. I missed him. We’d always been a pair, even if we weren’t identical. Without him, I felt like a spare chopstick.

“Nikta, heya!” A familiar voice grabbed my attention, and I looked up, spotting its owner. Maury Lew was waving from his vendor window overlooking the street, a plate of steaming hot buns on a tray in front of him. Eager, I rushed to say hello, giving him a slight bow.

“Heya, Maury. How are you today?”

“I’m good, Nikta, can’t complain.” He glanced quickly over his shoulder, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Actually, it’s Maeve’s birthday tonight, think you can make it over for the party? It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise? Didn’t she give you a black eye the last time you tried to surprise her?” I asked, picking up one of the buns he had pushed towards me and biting into the sweet, soft dough.

“That was an accident. We surprised her a little too much. Trust me. This time’s gonna be great.”

“Alright. If you think you’re up to it,” I said, grinning. “What can I bring?”

Maury’s dark eyes took in my dusty clothes. “You coming off a run?”

I nodded. “Yep, on my way to the office now. But I should have plenty of time to get ready, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You should rest more,” he said, eyeing me critically. Maeve had gone to school with my mother, and I’d been coming to their noodle shop for as long as I could remember. “Onkoro would not want to see you working so hard. Your mother, too, she would-”

I cut him off, not wanting to hear what my mother would have thought. Despite the years that had passed, her death still cut through me like a knife. There had been no warning, no gentle easing into the afterlife as there had been with my jiji. She had simply dropped one day, dead before she hit the floor. A blood clot, the doctors had said. Demons, the superstitious had whispered. Either way, it had felt like the end of the world. It didn’t matter how much magic I had. There was nothing I could do to bring her back. Even if I had been able to afford a round of chaline for treatment, there wouldn’t have been any time. No warning. And, of course, chaline was in short supply these days. Local mines had run out long ago and chaline remained a controlled substance – something you had to apply for, wait for. Unless, of course, you had substantial wealth, something on par with the ownership of a planet. In general, it was reserved for the most dire cases: young children with rare diseases, pregnant mothers, that sort of thing. Older people, simple people like my jiji, they almost never qualified.

So much had changed in that one short year – my mother, Jiji, and Jonah, all gone in their own way. And here I remained, trying to keep it all together, trying to pretend nothing had changed.

“I love my work,” I insisted, smiling as I stole another bun and danced backwards towards the street. “Even more than these buns. What time is the party?”

“Twelve,” Maury shouted after me. “Don’t be late!”

“I won’t!” I yelled, then stuffed the rest of the bun into my mouth and dashed between bodies in the oncoming crowd. It was already past eight. If I wanted to get cleaned up, find a gift and make the party, there was no time to waste. “Lew’s Noos” was still about twenty blocks away from the postal depot. I pulled my hood up over my face, hoping to avoid idle chit chat with acquaintances in the street. Still, the fragrant market stalls assaulted my senses and I couldn't help stopping for a few more savory treats along the way. This time, I kept the conversations short and paid my way in yendars.

Finally, I made it to the post office. Being a courier, I didn't use the front door but slipped into a side alley that led around to the back of the building. I took out my trio of keys crafted of brass, bronze, and steel and set to unlocking the three impressive tumblers. Mail was serious business and the PGPS wasn't about to let just anyone get their hands on it. Inside the door, a locked gate presented another barrier. My hood was still up but the guard behind the bars recognized me without even looking.

“Heya, Nikta,” he drawled, slowly marking his place in the comic he’d been reading before standing to let me through. The gate could only be opened from the inside, so there was always a guard on duty, even in the dead of night.

“Hey Joe,” I smiled, drawing the hood back. “How did you know it was me?”

“Those old boots of yours are a dead giveaway, plus, you know, your scent.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Is it that bad?” I hadn’t showered since the morning before, I knew, and I had been sticking to a pretty fast pace.

“You kidding me? You smell like flowers, doesn't matter what you do. Nothing in the ‘verse can wash that off or cover it up. Not from me, at any rate.”

I blushed. No one had ever mentioned my underscent before, at least, not out of the bedroom. The few times they had, I’d chalked it up to pillow talk, not an accurate assessment of my olfactory appeal. Like me, Joe was a chimera. He didn’t have much magic but his sense of smell was off the charts. The PGPS usually employed him in the customs department making sure there weren’t any dangerous substances passing through. It was strange to see him here reading by the door, and I told him so.

He scratched behind his neck absently. “Yeah, I know but Berman is off duty with food poisoning or something. She’s been puking for two days straight, her wife called in for her sounding pretty out of it herself.”

“Wow, that sucks for both of them.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Alright, well, see you later. Hope you brought plenty of comics.”

“I'm already on my second read through with this one,” he said, fingering the pages. “I forgot how much I hated gate duty. I can’t wait to get back to the customs department. You got anything to read in that pack of yours?” he asked hopefully.

“Nothing I can part with,” I said, thinking of my tiny booklet of Bashō’s collected poetry. “Sorry.”

“No problem, just had to ask.” He yawned. “I'm off in an hour.

I nodded absently, remembering that I was on a timeline.

“’Kay, see you around.” I headed straight to the receiving department. When I reached Florence’s massive table I started pulling out letters and packages, carefully arranging them so that none of the reusable mail cylinders rolled away. The tables at the PGPS had raised edges to keep things from sliding off, but it still paid to be careful. “Here you go: here's everything I collected.”

“Nikta,” she purred. “I was starting to worry. We were expecting you in last night.”

“I know, sorry, Flo. I had to make a delivery at Herold farm, you know how that goes,” I said. Mrs. Herold was a widowed homesteader whose son had run off to Hokku the year before. Even when she’d had family near, she’d been notorious among runners for her predilection for talking. Now, she’d start preparing tea and fresh rice cakes the moment she heard you coming down her lane. Most people found it impossible to get out of there in less than a day, though I had reduced it to an art form, generally managing to get out in under three hours without hurting her feelings.

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Herold,” she said gently. Florence was in her sixties, working a cushy job these days, but she’d started as a runner like the rest of us. “How is she doing?

“Better now. Not so lonely since she hired a farmhand to take up the work the men used to do.”

“No other trouble?” she asked, c*****g an eyebrow. “How’d you find the roads? I heard Route 8 got washed out in the last storm.”

“No idea. You know I stick to the wilds as much as possible.”

“Oh, well, I thought you might have heard something along the way. I’ve been getting some weird reports; customers acting strangely. I had two new runners resign on me out of the blue this week, no explanation.”

“Really, who?”

“Bobby and Lara,” she frowned as if it was my fault. And yeah, okay, I had kind of recruited Bobby. But he’d wanted the job.

“I don’t get it. Well, Lara, sure. She didn’t seem to have the stamina to be a runner. But Bobby’s got a family to feed. He told me he needed the work.”

“I know. I thought it was strange, too, but he just gave me some lame excuse about deciding to stay close to home so he could help take care of the family. And after all the training we’ve been doing these last few weeks… I guess maybe his wife thought he’d be away too much.”

“Wow, okay.” I chewed my lip, hoping everything was okay with Bobby. Our weeks were long by galactic standards – thirteen days, or half one Renga month. People generally worked two days on, one day off, and enjoyed a two-day weekend at the finish. Runners had no set timetable, though, and our schedules could easily cause some strain at home.

“Yeah,” Flo went on, fuming. “So between losing those two and Stephor still being out on paternity leave, we’re running short on couriers.” She wandered away, motioning for me to follow her to another massive table stacked with mail. The outgoing pile. She was right. We were running short – I’d never seen so much mail stacked and waiting. There were even piles on the floor nearby. “We're splitting up the sectors, everybody’s picking up the slack. I've got a bunch of things from Stephor’s route that were meant for Bobby, do you think you’ll be able to take them out tomorrow? I know you were supposed to be off for a couple of days, but…” she trailed off, waving a hand towards the piles, frustration clearly written across her face along with an apology.

“Sure, no problem. Any chance I can get some extra yendars out of it?” I asked hopefully.

Flo laughed. “You know that's not how it works. You should be glad no one’s docking your pay for coming in a day slow and making me worry,” she teased. Not that the Peoples Post would ever do that, not here on Renga or anywhere else. Runners worked on salary, a hefty income of Confederation Credits that more than covered all our travels, plus full benefits and a very attractive retirement package. Being paid in credits didn’t hurt here on Renga, either, where two ceecees could buy five yendar. In return, the PGPS was able to guarantee deliveries that would arrive ASAP - as soon as possible. No one liked to commit to a deadline in space, not even the PGPS. Our motto had been amended, too, over the years:

“Neither ice nor heat nor stars alight

stays our couriers from the swift completion

of their appointed rounds.”

In fact, our ships were so reliable and respected that more than one stowaway had used them to try and sneak into combat zones and other restricted areas. What can I say? The Peoples Post was pretty badass. I liked knowing that I was part of something so big with such a long history. It didn’t hurt knowing that we helped keep families connected, either. It was nice to be welcomed wherever I went. The bandits who’d love to get their hands on what I carried? Well, every job had its downsides. I could more than take care of myself, thanks to my grandfather’s tutelage. Still, even if Florence wasn’t going to dock my pay for being late, I knew she liked to keep track of where her couriers were. As if to prove my point, Flo held up a waterproofed sheet detailing the new sector and travel schedule. “Here you go. There’re a lot of new stops on there for you, and a package for some cop over in Chalinex, I figured you’d-”

“Chalinex!” I ripped the paper out of her hands. “Let me see that.” I scanned the paper, reading the address. Anywhere else in the galaxy, I’d have been getting a neural uplink with all the information, but not here on Renga. The tech just wasn’t compatible with the planet, or my brand of magic. “That’s the precinct where Jonah works. This is great! Thank you, Flo!” I threw my arms around her and gave her a giant hug. She laughed and hugged me back.

“Easy kiddo, you’re gonna squeeze the life out of me! I wasn’t sure if it was the same the precinct, but I know you’ve been itching to take over some of the Chalinex deliveries.”

“Yes, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, well, Stephor can’t expect to hold onto the best sector forever, not if he’s going to keep extending his leave.”

“Aw, he can’t help it. Have you seen the baby?”

Flo’s smile broadened. “I sure have. Kid’s a keeper. But, the mail never sleeps. So if you want more Chalinex deliveries, they’re yours.”

“Definitely! Oh, Flo, you’ve made my day!” I scooped up my pile of correspondence and small packages and stuffed them into my pack. “Seriously, you’re the best.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” she said, smiling. “Now, if you’d head over to Allen in customs and tell him that…”

“Somebody say my name?” Allen said, cutting through the other postmasters’ tables with a large cup of tea between his hands. Flo frowned at him and I suppressed a giggle. Allen had been nitpicking Flo’s handiwork for over a decade, always asking her to reprint or correct various declaration forms. Personally, I thought it was his socially inadequate way of trying to get her attention.

“Uh-oh, your suitor is here,” I whispered in her ear. Flo had other, less polite ways of referring to Allen. She hissed under her breath but I ignored her and turned brightly towards the aging customs officer. “I’m heading out, big plans for the evening. You two have fun! Bye-ie!” I waved at them both and bounced back before Flo could swat me with her talons. She may not have had actual cat’s claws, but she kept her nails filed razor sharp, a habit held over from her days as a runner. As long as Allen stayed out of arms reach, I knew he’d be safe. Besides, Flo was all hiss and no bite. I knew she liked to complain about Allen, but I was pretty sure that the mild workplace drama helped keep her from getting too bored at her desk job.

It wasn’t easy going from runner to postmaster, though most people made the transition in the years before retirement. Personally, I wasn’t sure what I would do when I got there. Somedays, even being a special courier wasn’t quite enough. I understood the lure of the stars, of life outside the confines of Renga, because there were days when I felt it, too. Surely, life up there was bigger, grander. I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of life, but I knew that I needed to matter. Right now, delivering letters got me there. Kind of. It gave me a greater purpose. But some days, like now, I couldn’t help feeling that there had to be something I was missing. Something more.

I just had no idea what that might be.