It's that time again — time for my annual New Year's Eve short story and the latest glimpse into the adventures of Carrie, Tamison, and their party. (Of course, as usual, this story should stand fine alone as well as in the context of the full series.) I hope you enjoy it and that you have a very happy New Year!
It's New Year's Eve Somewhere
This was supposed to be his night off.
The patrol alarm went off with an extended beep that echoed off the concrete and metal walls of the office. Tarvin grumbled to himself as he stood, stretched, and picked up the heavy metal stunlight from his desk. With one hand, he slid the weapon into its holster on his belt; with the other, he smacked the alarm to turn it off.
Still grumbling, he headed for the door into the ring of cells. He'd barely had time to sit down since his last patrol! Ordinarily, he'd only have to check on the prisoners once every few hours. Maybe once an hour if he were feeling especially motivated — Karoti would go every hour, but that man did everything by the book, and he was enthusiastic about it, madman that he was. As far as Tarvin and most of his squadmates were concerned, given that the cells' usual occupants were drunks or dust-heads and the occasional political demonstrator, a walk every two or three hours to make sure everyone was still breathing was more than sufficient. Most of the prisoners had enough problems of their own without guards breathing down their necks.
But tonight was different. Tonight required a patrol every thirty minutes, maybe forty-five if he had a good reason to stretch it, and an all-clear report at least once an hour. Tarvin didn't see the point; it wasn't as if the prisoners could go anywhere. Not as if they could escape without walking right past his desk. But the captain had laid out the consequences for him and his team if any of them failed to do things by the book tonight. If he were lucky, he'd spend a year cleaning orbital debris from Mahideri Station's path. If he wasn't lucky . . .
Tarvin unlocked the door with a finger pressed to the scanner. He carefully shut the door again behind him and waited until he heard the click as it relocked itself. Then, for variety's sake, he turned to the right. He'd mostly been walking counterclockwise, starting with the occupied cells and ending with the empty ones, but if he didn't switch things up occasionally, he'd go mad.
He swept through the curved hall of empty cells quickly, glancing into each. By all rights, the whole holding facility should be as empty as these were. The activists and demonstrators all tended to slow down their activities around this time of year; they knew it was an unlucky time, and any change was doomed to failure. Besides that, the university was between semesters, and that meant that everyone but essential personnel, two security units, and a few especially dedicated scholars and student-mages had left, fled either to their homes or to more hospitable locations. There weren't enough people here to make trouble, which meant anyone scheduled for guard duty here should've had that time off. Tarvin should've had tonight off. But then there'd been two arrests of the ordinary kind, and then another two that sent all the higher-ups into a frothing frenzy of panic and finger-pointing, and so here he was.
Tarvin reached the door at the end of the hall. He pressed his hand to the metal plate beside it and winced as tiny needles pricked the skin of his palm, taking the requisite DNA samples and confirming that he was allowed to access the high-security section of the facility. Before tonight, he'd never seen this door locked — what lay beyond had never been necessary, not as long as he'd worked here. But this night was an exception in multiple ways.
A moment later, the door slid open. Beyond, the temperature dropped by nearly ten degrees, maybe even fifteen. Tarvin shivered and set off again at a quick pace as the door shut and locked behind him, almost soundlessly. To either side of him, circular platforms filled with spirals of inscribed code-runes sat dark and empty, their magic inactive. On the ceiling above each platform was a similar circle of code-runes, also unlit and lifeless.
Midway along the hall, however, he reached two active platforms, their runes glowing the same blue as the stasis field projected above them. Here, the temperature seemed even colder. Magic drew in heat, Tarvin knew, though he couldn't remember where he'd learned that. Mostly you'd never notice it, the difference was so small, but with such powerful spellwork as this . . .
Frost glittered on the skin and clothes of the figures contained in the stasis fields, though they'd only been in there a few hours. The stasis effect would protect them from actually getting frostbite, but they'd still be cold as the back end of the galaxy when they were freed — if they were freed. Sure, this facility was only meant for short-term imprisonment — holding people a day or two, maybe four or five at most, until they'd paid off a light crime or could be transferred elsewhere for a longer sentence. But it wasn't like this section was used much, and Tarvin had heard of some prisoners kept in stasis for decades, covered in so many layers of frost that you couldn't even make out their features. The charges for these two were the same as for those prisoners: unauthorized magic use and espionage against the Coriolion Empire.
Tarvin paused long enough to study the pair. The stasis fields and frost obscured them, but he could still make out some details. The one on the right side of the hall was a woman, dark-skinned and curly-haired like Tarvin himself. She wore a strange green dress — more like a robe, really — and held her hands out as if reaching for someone, or perhaps readying a spell. Her eyes were open wide, and behind the frost, her face held mingled anger and . . . fear? No, not quite. Tarvin had seen plenty of people afraid for themselves. This woman's concern was turned entirely outwards.
Towards the other prisoner, maybe? Tarvin turned to study him next. He didn't look like much, just a man of average build, dressed in robes, with dark hair — messy, but in a way that suggested it had been neatly styled until some kind of scuffle forced it out of place. He'd had the sense to close his eyes, at least, and his head was slightly ducked. He held his arms up, forearms crossed, but his hands were open, the fingers spread. Tarvin had seen this casting position too, when a pair of student mages were debating defensive stances in a local bar. They'd said it was good for shields and not much else.
Neither one looked especially dangerous. If they'd been wearing anything but robes, Tarvin would've taken them for upper-level student-mages at the university. For a moment, he almost wished he could thaw one of them, or maybe both of them, out and ask what had happened and what they'd done. They were the reason he was here, walking patrols every half-hour, after all. Didn't he have a right to know why?
Looking at them, Tarvin had a nasty suspicion that they hadn't done anything. That they were from outside the empire and they'd had a teleportation spell go badly wrong. That would explain what he'd heard about them appearing unexpectedly in a restricted area. And he wouldn't put it past the higher-ups to claim malicious intent no matter what their prisoners said.
But even if he really wanted to talk to one of them, he couldn't. It took a mage and a guard together to release a stasis field, and not just any mage, but one of the Highstars, the highest-ranking mages on the station. No one else had the authority to use so much magic at once. There was only one Highstar here tonight, Meridus, and he'd been the one to activate the stasis field in the first place. He'd never release it for so small a reason as confirming potentially misplaced guilt, not when it was easier to just leave it until it became someone else's problem.
Nor would he have much patience for a lowly guard questioning his decisions. Tarvin turned away from the stasis-held prisoners and continued along his patrol. The rest of the platforms were empty, and the far door let him out in exchange for another DNA sample. Now that he was back among normal cells, the temperature rose again, and he no longer shivered. Still, he kept a brisk pace until he reached the sole occupied cell. He'd been told the two women within were political demonstrators who'd chosen a night in lockup over paying the usual fine. The palm-shaped bruises visible on the thin cheeks of one of the women more or less confirmed as much. Most of the security force wouldn't be gentle with someone who chose to make trouble with a sober mind and full control of their faculties. It was a lot easier to be patient with someone who you thought didn't know any better.
He paused by the cell and looked inside. The clear forcefield across the entrance let him see the prisoners clearly. The bruised woman sat closer to the entrance, her eyes shut, though Tarvin didn't think she was actually asleep. She'd swept her long hair into a high bun since the last time he actually looked into the cell; how it was staying in place, he couldn't tell. The other woman sat in a back corner, bending over . . . was that a notebook and pen? Tarvin cleared his throat and knocked against the wall between cells to get her attention. "Who gave you permission to have personal items in there?"
The woman glanced up for only the briefest moment. "I brought it in with me. Your captain didn't tell me to give it up."
Huh. That was unlike him. Still, Tarvin hadn't seen anyone come in, and he knew whoever brought them in would've searched them. The captain must've been feeling unusually merciful. "Well, fine, then. Just behave yourself with it."
The woman didn't respond; she just kept scribbling in the book. The other spoke up, her voice hoarse. "Do you think it's right that we're in here?"
"You broke the law, ma'am." Tarvin shrugged. "I don't know what else you expected."
"We made a few comments about the nature of truth and justice and freedom." The bruised woman opened her eyes and looked sideways at him. "We said magic should be free to all, not just to the elite, as it is in other worlds. Should that be against the law?"
Tarvin shifted uncomfortably. He'd learned long ago not to entertain that line of thought. "I'm just a guard, ma'am. It's not my job to decide what the law should be, just to uphold it."
He started to walk away, but her voice stopped him before he could get far. "Your name is Tarvin Aboti. You've worked as Mahideri Station security for seven years. Before that, you came from Asarvis. You were born after the Coriolion Empire took over, but your parents remember when the land and the magic were free, and they told you stories about those days when no one else was listening."
Tarvin turned on his heel, reaching for his stunlight. "What — Who are you? How do you know all that?" He'd never introduced himself to these two. And he'd never told anyone on the station about his parents' stories . . .
"My name is Willow. My friend is Laelia." The bruised woman met his eyes. "Would you believe me if I said that I'm from another world, that I come from the long past, and that I've visited the future?"
"That's —" Impossible. That would mean time travel, and even the Highstars couldn't do that. Or could they? Was this a setup?
"No one's listening, Mr. Aboti." Willow smiled at him, weary and determined. "You're the only one on duty here, and no one would bother with patrols if there were another way to watch the cells. So, what do you say? Is the way it is the way it should be? I don't think you think it is. If you help us, we can fix that."
He should leave. He should leave and report this. But instead, he stayed where he was, stunlight still firmly in his hand. "Help you how?"
Laelia's pen stilled, and she responded instead of Willow. "According to the history books, tonight, a guard releases five prisoners. When he does, he starts a chain of changes that ends with the fall of the Coriolion Empire, freedom for the people it's conquered, and access to magic for everyone."
"That guard could be your relief," Willow said, her voice soft. "Or it could be you. I think it's you. What do you think, Mr. Aboti?"
"I could release the two of you," Tarvin said, slowly. He shouldn't listen, he knew. But they knew too much for him to ignore them. At least if he kept talking, he could learn something. He was gathering intelligence; that was all. His captain couldn't fault him for that. "But if the two in high security are included in that group, I can't get them out. I'd need a mage for that."
"I am a mage." Willow put a hand against the force field. Rather than burning her, it dimmed where she touched it. A glow appeared around her other hand, dancing blue and green like the auroras on Asarvis. "Our friends, the other prisoners, are under stasis spells, aren't they? I can undo them safely if you just unlock what needs unlocked."
Was she using the energy from the forcefield to power separate magic? If she could do that — if she could undo the stasis fields — did she even need him to let her and her friend out? More importantly, if she were that skilled or that powerful, then she had to be at least on the same level as the Highstars. Under those circumstances, no one could blame him if he chose to help, could they? Still, a thought occurred to him. "You said five prisoners. There's only four here.
Willow's smile brightened, and she leaned closer to the force field. "The last prisoner isn't a person. We're going to release the magic. Make sure anyone on the station can use it, whatever authorizations they have, just like it used to be."
Like it used to be. Like the world his parents had known. Surely anyone who wanted to do that couldn't be so bad? "What do you get out of this? You said you're from another world. What do you care about here?"
"We want to do what's right." Willow shook her head. "We want to make things how they should be."
"And you have a copy of the Xenoth Archives here," Laelia added, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's under guard, but we might be able to get to it in all the confusion."
Willow gave Laelia an exasperated look. Laelia frowned. "It's the truth. That's why we came here in the first place. We were going to get here during the aftermath, but our timeport went wrong. Then Willow and I realized that was because we had to be here for there to be an aftermath."
That settled it. No one would make up such a ridiculous story as a lie, not if they seriously wanted to convince someone. They had to be telling the truth. All the same . . . "It's bad luck to start any big changes mid-year. You have to wait until the new year if you want anything to work."
Willow faced Tarvin again, her smile returning. "It's always the new year somewhere, Mr. Aboti. If not in this world, then another."
"Tonight's New Year's Eve on Earth and Fuila," Laelia added helpfully. "Worlds 1-3 and 1-5. It's also in the middle of the turning of the year for some cultures in Andauthea, world 3-7."
"See, Mr. Aboti? It's a new year." Willow looked hopefully at him. "So, will you help us?"
Tarvin took a deep breath and put his stunlight back in his pocket. "You'll release magic — will you teach me how to use it?"
"We'll show you the basics," Willow replied. "And we'll leave you information on where to go from there. Does that mean you'll help?"
"Well, your histories say someone does." Tarvin reached for his keys. "Do I let you out now, or later? Do your history books say?"
"Get the supplies you confiscated from us first. There's some tools we need in there." Willow stood. "Then let us out, as soon as possible."
"Right." Tarvin nodded. "I'll be back in a minute, then."
He hurried back down the hall, towards the main office and the lockers of prisoners' possessions. The thrill of what he was doing thrummed in his chest. If he were caught, it would mean death or worse.
But if he wasn't caught, it would mean he'd done something meaningful. Something important. Surely that was worth the risk. After all, it was the new year somewhere — and the new year meant it was time for a change.
