A Horologist Above Mars

The principles of horology are simple: There is the viewer, the vessel on which they stand, and the vestibules of matter that constitute the celestial bodies. Interplanetary relativism is key in understanding their movements. The ley lines that jut out along their axis and poles are what the people fear. We must not fear these motions, but seek to understand them. Fear can spur on study, but ultimately undermine knowledge. To fear the world is sin. God has set the spheres in motion- it is our humble duty to record and analyze that divine work.
-Abbas Haddad, The Third Junian Mystic of Mars, "On the Subject of Horology, Chaper 1" (Excerpt)

//MARTIAN HIGH ORBIT
//LONGSWORD-CLASS VESSEL KYTHE
//12.14.5048 AV
//THIRD SECTION (ENGINEERING)

The Kythe was a fairly unique ship. Despite its unoriginal name, of course. It bore some of the faster engines that normally would be allotted to a shortsword or halberd craft, but given that its duty was power projection and recon, it was deemed fit to be fitted with a more robust argon injection system to be faster than any patrol pickets that would attempt to attack it or shoo it off. Its engines were less efficient, but a longsword-class vessel such as the Kythe had more than enough room for the fuel and the replacement parts needed. Masaf Hall ran a hand along the wall, felt the cold steel, with the slight tinges of heat flowing through it from the engine further down the ship.
He walked onward along the circular pathway, which always proved disorienting. Near the rear of the ship where he was, the gravitational pull of the thaumafuge devices along the center of the ship was strongest. Hall wasn't used to gravity on a ship, and personally found it a waste of time and energy, but the Cythereans were not as adapted to zero-gravity environments as a Horologist such as himself or the Vodranti Tx̼x̼al would be. He reached the hatch that would lead to the "central hall". He felt a slight buzz as he passed through the thaumafuge's termination field, and that feeling faded as he entered the zero-gravity of the long circular corridor. He grabbed a handle along the walls and made his way down towards the engine room.
Floating along, moving in that zero-gravity area, gave Hall a strange sense of nostalgia. Before the Cythereans, he found work with other more independent ships, ones without access to artificial gravity technology beyond maybe a centrifugal section for longer journeys, and also with friendlier crew than that of the distant Cythereans. It was also unnerving to see the residents of Venus without their stereotypical masks. Given that they were all clones, most of the crew were exactly the same, although some, such as the engineer Hall just floated by, looked different. She was likely cloned from the genetic imprint matrix of some famous metallurgist. Although the genetic imprint could only provide the body, a "shade" of the original's mind was also stored on the Creusa device, allowing a fraction of their knowledge and being to be projected onto the clone. And if that engineer performed well, they'd make a Creusa of them, and their "progeny" would share their memories and skills. Given this process had been utilized for almost 3-4 thousand years, each Cytherean could recite events from hundreds of years ago as one could recite a childhood memory. Certain "strains" of clones proved valuable to Cytherean scholars for recordkeeping.
Personally, Hall found it disturbing, as did most Junian Mystics. Having the shadow of a mind imprinted on a fresh clone gave little room for personal development. He imagined that clone struggled with how much of their personality and behaviors were actually them and not the byproduct of their predecessor's nature. He was also relieved that an aspect of the treatise between the Junian Mystics and the Confederation was that the horologists provided, like Hall, would not be cloned in any way. That would make it difficult to find work. But even if a horologist was cloned, there is only so much you can "copy over"- they'd still need extensive training, and for the most part, only the Junian Mystics could provide the quality of training the Cythereans needed.
His train of thought was stopped as he reached the entrance to the engine room. He pressed his hand against a scanner of sorts by the door, and the airlock slowly came open. He made his way inside, avoiding the Venerian Warlock floating in the zero-gravity room, mumbling some rite that would ensure the engine would not rip itself apart. He hoped he did not disturb the practitioner as much as the warlock disturbed him- although the engine was outrageously loud, so it didn't seem like his presence would make a difference. If anything, the noise was probably hypnotic to the warlock while they meditated. But it did have periods of quietness that allowed Hall to think. 
A plasma engine such as the one on the Kythe was certainly not the most durable, given its reliance on powerful magnetic fields and high temperatures, but the Venerian Warlocks proved their talents in metallurgy by ensuring that an engine such as this would last several decades before even a plate would need to be replaced. Although that could not compare to the machinecraft of the Vodranti, whose engines proved far faster and could last for centuries, if not millennia. But that's judging by what little Hall has seen of their ships.
It was sad, really. A Cytherean ship such as this would never stand a chance against the Vodranti. Not even the most advanced ships the Confederation could muster would stand a chance against the Vodranti Legions. He supposed it was for the best the Legions remained so...disjointed. If they had ceased their squabbling that would prove disastrous for the rest of the Sol System, and then he'd...Well, that'd certainly produce a lot of job openings for a horologist like him, so it wouldn't be that bad.
Ach, he cursed himself for thinking in such a fashion. Perhaps he spent too much time with the Cythereans. Such pragmatic thought was unhealthy. Hall ran through the route again in his head, his calculatrii implant feeding him data on the maneuvers. Everything was in order, the path plotted. A ley line of Saturn would pass by the ship as it flew by Mars, and they could utilize its thaumaturgic currents to hurry their journey back to Venus, while also utilizing Mars' gravitational pull to perform a gravity assist. He'd analyzed the movements of the celestial bodies so extensively it could render him insane if he dared do it again. But you can't afford to be wrong with these things. He maneuvered himself over to a console closer to the "ground" as he knew it. The computer stuttered a little as it was activated, but once it was, Hall was able to check the route one more time. The captain was having a heated argument with some engineer that Hall wanted no part of, so he couldn't use the console in the command center. It was probably over something petty- the captain was obviously inexperienced.
Looking at the route, however, Hall noted there was something different. The course had been diverted to go by Phobos instead and do a gravity assist with that moon. This would add an entire 10 days to their journey- it wasn't necessary, and Phobos was opposite of Mars in their current position. The script would even have the ship's port thruster activated to maneuver itself above the Stickney Crater- why?
His analysis was cut short- the sensation of a presence behind him. He turned to see the warlock looking over his shoulder. She cocked her head to the side. "Anything amiss?" He jumped back and hit his skull on the wall. Rubbing the back of his head, he gestured towards the console. "Yes, quite. Someone has edited the course significantly. This must've been done recently, I've checked it thrice a few hours ago. Why hasn't the captain noticed?"
The warlock shrugged. The metal mask covering her face gave no other indication as to her emotions. "Had to make a change to the course. Our mission requires we go by the second lagrange point between Phobos and Mars."
Hall squinted. "Phobos is under Cytherean control. There's no reason for us to patrol the area. This course couldn't have been calculated without my help and in such a short amount of time. It's clearly pre-made. What's going on?" The warlock simply stared for a moment. "Our mission is not as limited as you may have thought. Think, Hall." He was slightly disturbed the warlock knew his name given their minimal interaction before. "Why send a specially-modified spacecraft-" she gestured to the two modified argon tanks linked to the engine- " to patrol what is mostly Cytherean space? The Vodranti certainly have other troubles with the Amphatrians, and the Grail has no interest in the Cythereans." Hall backed away from the warlock. She moved closer. "Further still, why would we need a horologist for such a brief trip? Only a few months at worst. Any captain worth their salt would be able to manage the journey. The space tugs in the hangar, the extended fuel reserves- you're not an idiot. Think."
Hall moved toward the door, not taking his eyes off of the warlock. He hit the button to open the door. It failed. She pushed off of a handlebar and towards him, pressing him against the wall. Hall felt something press against his suit's chest. "I don't unders-" She raised the hand not holding the pistol to hold up a finger. "Quiet. Something else you likely already know is that the magnetoplasma engine that drives this ship has a tendency to cause electronic interference periodically. Of course, an experienced captain- which we do not have, as you already know- would realize that one of the reasons for a Venerian Warlock is to prevent that interference from happening. But if there were to be a 5-10 minute period where all cameras and security systems in the aft of the ship were to deactivate, he certainly wouldn't argue with me given the engineers have been pushing him around since we departed Neith." Hall was frozen in place. He'd been in similar situations before, but nobody sane would actually kill their horologist mid-mission. With this warlock, however, he wasn't sure. "I'm not going to kill you, though. I do need you. But this gun is loaded with very weak buckshot shells. It'll pierce your suit and tear through your skin and upper layers of flesh, but it shouldn't rupture any organs. It would hurt, of course. It'd be agony. And I ensured that we picked a particularly squeamish horologist." He swallowed, clearing his throat. "...right. What do you want from me?" The warlock put the gun away, laughing. Hall had never heard a Cytherean laugh before. He found it disturbing. "Quite simple, really. I need an expert on ley-lines and thaumaturgy to help me recover a ship that contains a 3000-year-old corpse."