Sherwood internet – he knew he’d been the first to apply, as the Captain had told him so.
Nonetheless, he’d lost the position before he’d even boarded the ship. He thanked the spacer and crossed back onto the twelve-kilometer long cylinder that was the central hub of Sherwood Prime. He quickly grabbed one of the transit tubes that took civilians up and down the central hub to any of the immense rings spaced evenly along its length, each rotating around the hub to provide the semblance of gravity. The sooner he was off the Hub, the happier he was - he was as comfortable without gravity as anyone born in a gravity well, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
His rooms were on Ring Seven. Flanked on either side by multiple similar immense rings rotating around the hub once a minute, the central two rings were generally inaccessible by ship. This made Rings Six and Seven the cheapest places to live and eat on the immense space station.
At age thirteen, every child on a planet under the Protectorate was tested for Mage gift. For the children born to the noble Mage families that served the Mage-King of Mars and bound His Protectorate together, the testing was a formality. For the vast majority of the rest of the population, it was also a formality, but for the opposite reason – children like Damien who had no Mage parents and became Mages were barely one in a million.
Damien found himself wandering Ring Seven aimlessly. He paid for his room out of the small stipend the Mage-King provided every unemployed Mage. While his parents had lived, they’d received a larger stipend – an encouragement to have more children since they’d proven they would likely have Mage children. Damien’s younger brother and sister had died in the same crash that had killed his parents, long before either was old enough to be tested.
The discovery of his gift had changed his life, though. The Royal Testers, men and women who reported to the Mage-King, not the McLaughlin’s government of Sherwood, had arranged for his education to expand, and for him to eventually attend the elite school of magic that trained the noble children – Mages by Blood, versus Damien’s Mage by Right – of Sherwood.
Despite that, the Testers couldn’t provide the interlinking web of connections the Mages by Blood – especially the grand-children, nephews and nieces of a man as powerful as the McLaughlin, recently reelected Mage-Governor of Sherwood for his seventh term.
Lost in his thoughts, Damien realized he’d wandered off of the central concourse, which was brightly lit and patrolled by security even on as cheap and dingy a section of the space station as Ring Seven. He was still in public corridors, but these hallways didn’t have wide-open storefronts and bright lights.
Instead, easily a third of the lights were broken, and sealed doors with small nameplates or even just numbers were the only exits. Finally starting to pay attention, Damien realized that someone had scratched out the corridor numbers on the intersection nearest him, and touched the medallion around his throat for reassurance – no matter how run-down the area was, no one was going to attack a Mage.
Conceding that his funk had resulted in his getting very lost, he brought up the map function on his personal computer, a black plastic band wrapped around his left wrist. Its holographic display flickered in the air for a moment, with a small warning in one corner about connection issues, and then identified his location and a route back to his rooms in the main concourse.
“Nice PC,” a voice said behind him. “Too nice a PC for so small a bit, don’tcha think?”
Damien slowly turned around to find four large men, the smallest easily twice his own size – but carrying a length of black piping where the others were unarmed. He was hoping that the sight of the medallion would cause them to back off, but the largest man simply grinned at the sight.
“ Waay too nice a PC for a
Nonetheless, he’d lost the position before he’d even boarded the ship. He thanked the spacer and crossed back onto the twelve-kilometer long cylinder that was the central hub of Sherwood Prime. He quickly grabbed one of the transit tubes that took civilians up and down the central hub to any of the immense rings spaced evenly along its length, each rotating around the hub to provide the semblance of gravity. The sooner he was off the Hub, the happier he was - he was as comfortable without gravity as anyone born in a gravity well, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
His rooms were on Ring Seven. Flanked on either side by multiple similar immense rings rotating around the hub once a minute, the central two rings were generally inaccessible by ship. This made Rings Six and Seven the cheapest places to live and eat on the immense space station.
At age thirteen, every child on a planet under the Protectorate was tested for Mage gift. For the children born to the noble Mage families that served the Mage-King of Mars and bound His Protectorate together, the testing was a formality. For the vast majority of the rest of the population, it was also a formality, but for the opposite reason – children like Damien who had no Mage parents and became Mages were barely one in a million.
Damien found himself wandering Ring Seven aimlessly. He paid for his room out of the small stipend the Mage-King provided every unemployed Mage. While his parents had lived, they’d received a larger stipend – an encouragement to have more children since they’d proven they would likely have Mage children. Damien’s younger brother and sister had died in the same crash that had killed his parents, long before either was old enough to be tested.
The discovery of his gift had changed his life, though. The Royal Testers, men and women who reported to the Mage-King, not the McLaughlin’s government of Sherwood, had arranged for his education to expand, and for him to eventually attend the elite school of magic that trained the noble children – Mages by Blood, versus Damien’s Mage by Right – of Sherwood.
Despite that, the Testers couldn’t provide the interlinking web of connections the Mages by Blood – especially the grand-children, nephews and nieces of a man as powerful as the McLaughlin, recently reelected Mage-Governor of Sherwood for his seventh term.
Lost in his thoughts, Damien realized he’d wandered off of the central concourse, which was brightly lit and patrolled by security even on as cheap and dingy a section of the space station as Ring Seven. He was still in public corridors, but these hallways didn’t have wide-open storefronts and bright lights.
Instead, easily a third of the lights were broken, and sealed doors with small nameplates or even just numbers were the only exits. Finally starting to pay attention, Damien realized that someone had scratched out the corridor numbers on the intersection nearest him, and touched the medallion around his throat for reassurance – no matter how run-down the area was, no one was going to attack a Mage.
Conceding that his funk had resulted in his getting very lost, he brought up the map function on his personal computer, a black plastic band wrapped around his left wrist. Its holographic display flickered in the air for a moment, with a small warning in one corner about connection issues, and then identified his location and a route back to his rooms in the main concourse.
“Nice PC,” a voice said behind him. “Too nice a PC for so small a bit, don’tcha think?”
Damien slowly turned around to find four large men, the smallest easily twice his own size – but carrying a length of black piping where the others were unarmed. He was hoping that the sight of the medallion would cause them to back off, but the largest man simply grinned at the sight.
“ Waay too nice a PC for a
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