“She’s not answering hails. Marya and Davis can’t get her, either.”
Tomas glanced at the cameras in the walls. “What about the station?”
“What about it? It can’t tell me where Valentine is without her permission, and she’s not answering.”
“You better learn to stall, Liao, because here comes the cavalry,” Dal said.
The door opened. Sanda was first through, brushing past Marya and Davis like they were spiderwebs in her way, her hands grasped together behind her back, her head up and eyes roving, taking in every detail of the room. A shudder ran through her, a quick twitch of the shoulders.
She recognized this lab layout, just as he had. Knew its bones to be the mirror of the lab in Bero, the place where her head had been cracked open and tampered with. Tomas held his breath. Abject terror pushed her eyes wide. She blinked, shook her head, and her gaze went back to normal, spine straight, commanding the room with her mere presence.
“What is it you do here?” she asked, strolling the line of lab tables. She had to notice every screen had been blanked, all the research tucked away. At each table, she shook the researcher’s hand. Tomas began to sweat.
“We’re working on the advancement of communications relays,” Marya said. She scurried after, a tablet clutched to her chest like a shield. “It’s drudge work.”
“What we’re doing here is important,” Dal cut in, half rising from his seat. “Though those who don’t understand it may find it simple, it is exceedingly complex.”
Sanda swiveled toward Dal, abandoning the shirking researcher she’d introduced herself to. Tomas started to feel faint as she moved toward him, coat flaring out around her hips, and stopped at the edge of his table. Even though she was focused on Dal, her proximity was enough to make his head swim.
He could not blow his cover. Not only would it put Sanda at risk of Nazca retaliation, it would also ruin his chances to stop Rainier from releasing her swarm on the gates. Now wasn’t the right time.
“What’s your name?” she said, extending her hand to Dal. He took it in both of his and shook once, exuberantly.
“Dr. Dal Padian. I’ve been on this station for six months now, Major, working on micronizing the amplification relay systems already in place coming out of the gates. It’s very—”
“Padian is one of our best,” Liao said, slipping around the table to insert herself between them. “We’re very lucky to have him. I’m Dr. Liao, nominally in charge of affairs here in the lab, which are, admittedly, boring. Would you like to visit our modeling subsection? We have a scale model of the signal relays that pick up broadcasts pushed through the gates.”
“This visit isn’t a tour, Doctor. I’m here to meet your staff and assess the viability of this station.” Sanda’s right hand reached down and back, stretching toward Tomas. She grabbed the tablet—his tablet—off the table and glanced down at it. He’d been so distracted by her presence, he’d forgotten to lock the screen like all the others had. Her jaw clenched as she scrolled through the data he’d been reviewing. What did she see in it? Did she know anything he didn’t?
“The station is self-sufficient,” Liao was saying while Sanda scrolled on and on. Liao clutched her hands together in front of her chest, resisting an obvious urge to yank the tablet out of Sanda’s hands. She shot Tomas an annoyed look, but he barely noticed. He’d been there two days. The mistake could be forgiven.
“Yes, yes, I see that. Your recyclers are top of the line, you produce enough O2 to resupply any vessels that wander by low or damaged, very good of you, but what are you cooling?”
Liao took a step back. “I’m sorry?”
Sanda jabbed at the tablet a few times and flicked it around for Liao to see. Tomas strained across the lab table, craning his neck to get a better look. The motion caused Sanda to notice him. Fuck, he did not want to be noticed. The MetBath had rearranged his face enough to pass, he hoped, but a new face didn’t hide your body shape, your natural body language.
Her gaze skimmed over him. Zero recognition. His chest ached.
“And you are?” she asked, extending a hand to him.
He didn’t want to take it, superstitiously afraid that the skin-to-skin contact would erase the facade, allowing her to see him for who he really was, or at least who he had been when she’d met him.
He took it anyway, pressed his clammy palm into her cool, strong hand, and shook once, meeting her gaze. “Leo Novak, ma’am. I ain’t a researcher or a doctor like the others, just a deft hand with engineering. I’m new here.”
I don’t know anything, stars and void, don’t ask me.
“Call me Greeve,” she said, taking her hand back. She cocked her head as if listening to something, and that was when he noticed the comm unit looped over her ear. He had to focus. To erase that this was Sanda from his mind. There was too much going on, too much at stake. All the little pieces of a puzzle he had to solve, broken apart and thrown into the wind.
“Greeve,” he repeated, then caught Liao glaring at him and ducked his head.
“How new are you?” she asked him, but she was distracted, listening to the voice in her ear while she tapped away at her wristpad.
“Second day working,” he admitted.
She paused, finger poised above the pad. “Rough.”
“Sorry?” he asked.
“I am,” she said, and pressed a button.
All the viewscreens in the room went out. The lights dropped to emergency mode, salt-yellow, red LEDs flashing on any access panel that led to anything important. An alarm blared, an insistent bleating.
Sanda said into her comm, “Turn that shit off.”
Someone did. The lights stayed low while the viewscreens burst back into life, temporarily blinding Tomas. He brought an arm up to shade his eyes and turned away from the central screen. It ran code, lines of grey text streaming by. Meaningless to him. The station’s systems had been hacked, that was all he needed to know.
Liao squeaked and hit the ground, ducking behind Dal’s table. Sanda’s people—Nox and the fleetie—had their weapons out. Nox’s rifle was pointed with calm indifference at Lt. Davis, the fleetie’s at Marya.
“This station is under fleet control,” Lt. Davis said, voice ratcheted high with fear.
Sanda sighed and pulled the blaster from inside her coat, leveling it at Davis. “It is now. You, Davis, are not fleet. Divest your weapons and stand down.”
Marya looked from one to the other with bulging eyes. “We’re—we’re a civilian research station—”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Sanda snapped the words off. To her comm, she said, “Find me a clear path to the ice-box.”
“It’s food storage!” Marya said. “That’s what we’re cooling—food, water, rations, the usual.”
“I am, in fact, not an idiot.”
Sanda stepped around the table without losing her clean line of fire on Davis. Tomas swallowed. He had to defuse this. Had to get her the fuck off this station, but there was nothing he could do without blowing his cover, and that would get them both killed. Steady, he told himself, calling upon memories of Caid’s training to calm his building panic. When a situation seems impossible, wait. Wait for the cracks to grow in which to wedge yourself. Everything breaks eventually.
Sanda bent a knee and grabbed Liao by the back of her lab coat, dragging her to her feet. Liao stumbled, keeping her head tucked down and her hands up around her ears. Her whole body shook.
Tomas couldn’t take his eyes away. Usually, when violence broke out, he was in the center of it. He rarely, if ever, was one of the victims. Decades of wading into gunfire had immunized him to mortal fear, as the Nazca had intended. What Liao displayed now, that bone-shaking dread, was so, so far away from him. The closest he ever felt to real fear was when someone he cared about was in danger, and then… What had he felt? Anxiety that he couldn’t fix the problem? How fucked up was that?
“I won’t hurt you,” Sanda said to Liao who,
sensibly, didn’t believe her for a second.
Sanda stepped back into the center of the room, taking Liao with her. “Davis, I believe I asked you to divest your weapons. I won’t ask again.”
“I can’t do that,” Davis said, a soft whine in her voice. Her arms trembled.
The door dilated. While everyone in the room flinched away from the motion, Tomas watched in dazed wonder as Nox and Sanda, synchronized, flicked their gazes to that opening and to each other. Nox shifted to cover the door, Sanda stayed on Davis. Tomas was annoyed to feel a pang of jealousy at how easily they worked together.
Jules entered, thumbs hooked in the loops of her slacks, a single eyebrow arched high as she turned her gaze on Nox.
“You could have just knocked,” she said.
CHAPTER 28
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
PRICE OF PROTECTION
Vladsen rubbed his hands together, the most animated Biran had seen him in years. “Right then. How do we do this? Do you write test speeches?”
Biran shrugged. “Dozens, then toss them all away and speak from the heart when the moment comes. Not that the drafts don’t inform what I say, mind you.”
“Not exactly approved methods,” Shun mused.
Biran threw up his hands. “None of this is.”
“Well, what do we say to get the populace on our side?” Vladsen asked. “As you have the instinct for it, I’m happy to take a backseat and assist in any way I can.”
Biran rubbed his palms against his thighs as they started to turn clammy. “The populace will not listen to us. Firing them up to be the savior of one hero, of their own home? That was a simple thing. People will pull together to save one, especially if it is one of their own. People, however, will not react similarly when the number is larger, and known to them only as an enemy for so many generations. They will shrug their shoulders and say it is to be expected, Icarion bucked the rules for too long, they are only getting what is coming to them. Why should Ada go out of its way, take a risk, to keep them from being ground into dust?”
“I don’t understand.” Vladsen genuinely looked perplexed. “What the director said…”
“Oh,” Shun said, softly.
“Yes,” Biran agreed. He forced himself to look up, to meet both of their gazes. “Director Olver, as I’m reminded time and time again, did not reach his post by accident. The man is cunning, and not oblivious to the hearts of our people. There is only one group which may be persuaded to take a risk to save Icarion, and that is the Icarions themselves.”
Vladsen sucked air through his teeth. “That will give Hitton a fine case for treason against us all.”
Biran nodded. “We have only the knowledge that Olver will support us, without revealing his approval, and that Anford does not want this war, to protect us from that accusation. If either of you would like to leave this room now, I will not hold it against you, and I will never mention your names in this context.”
“No,” Vladsen said. He licked his lips. “I believed in Lavaux’s goals for longer than I care to admit. I actually thought… I believed he and his wife were trying to help people. I have, perhaps, strolled closer to real treason than either of you. If I’m going to misbehave now, it may as well be for the greater good.”
“While I do not share your colleague’s motivations,” Shun said, “I share his conviction. Whatever Ms. Lionetti’s reasons were for aiding Icarion, I failed her. It is my job to guide all my students, and I did not see the hook that drew her to Icarion. If I can do something not only to aid peace, but to squeeze some good out of her legacy—even if her name is never again spoken of in this context—then I will do so. The risk is nothing.”
“This is all very heartwarming,” Vladsen said, “but now that we’re clear we’re prepared to commit treason to save that rebellious rock, how are we going to do it? Prime technicians could patch us into their media, but we won’t get in by ourselves, and Keeper Garcia has his hands all over IT here. He’d stop us cold. If there’s an Icarion version of your reporter friend Callie Mera for you to call, Speaker, I doubt they’d speak to us.”
“We don’t need their media,” Shun said, then stopped herself.
“Go on,” Biran urged.
“Well, getting through to their media would get their people riled up, but would do nothing to move the official hands of Prime, and what we need is a message so clear that the High Protectorate cannot avoid an answer. Put on the spot, the Prime Director would have to admit that we do not trust Icarion not to take advantage of the location. While that wouldn’t hurt the High Protectorate politically, admitting that they did not have the strength to protect their assets would be unheard of for Prime.
“Okonkwo and her colleagues would be forced to throw resources at Anford. With the gate secure, all cause for avoiding the project goes out the window. Assuming the in-depth survey comes back clear, naturally, which I have every faith that it will. I would clear the site this minute if there weren’t so very much riding on it.”
“Ah,” Vladsen said. “You suggest we put the proposal to Bollar, then? Instead of unintentionally undermining his power by going directly to his people, we give him and Negassi a little leverage?”
“It could work,” Biran said. “It puts us at higher risk of treason prosecution, but Bollar and Negassi know that they cannot win this war. And they know, too, that their current supply chain is precarious. They will want the gate. And, as you said, Okonkwo and the High Protectorate would only make themselves seem weak by denying the location due to its proximity to Icarion.”
“How do we approach them?” Shun asked.
Biran exchanged a glance with Vladsen, who returned a conspiratorial smile. “The members of the Protectorate can make that call at any time.”
“Olver must have realized…” She trailed off.
Biran cleared his throat. “Shall we do this now?”
“Before any of us develops a sudden thirst for life?” Shun asked.
“Keeper, if you—”
She waved a hand at him. “I jest. Please, yes, do it now. Continual fretting will lead to no clearer conclusion.”
Vladsen nodded his approval, but did not reach for his wristpad. Well, Biran supposed it wouldn’t be the first time he’d made a similar unauthorized call. Biran tapped in the priority number to Bollar’s wristpad—he wouldn’t risk Negassi intercepting this—and waited. When the president of Icarion picked up, Biran noted that he had dark circles under his eyes that had been obscured in virtual space. No one wanted this war.
“Speaker Greeve,” Bollar said distractedly. “We have no meeting scheduled, and despite what your people may think, Icarion is busy getting on with the business of everyday life. I hope this is important.”
Biran put on his contrite diplomat’s smile and queued up the ident lines for Shun and Vladsen. “I apologize for not scheduling this meeting in advance, but developments here came about rather quickly, and I thought you should be made aware of our discovery sooner rather than later.”
All pretense at distraction dropped away. “What discovery?”
“I think it best if I allow our expert to explain. I have with me here Keepers Vladsen and Shun.”
“Vladsen I know. Shun—?”
“A teacher, but her primary focus is elsewhere. May I connect them to this line?”
“Be about it, man.”
Biran nodded and tapped through the connection. Shun and Vladsen appeared screen-in-screen in the chat view. Everyone, Biran thought, looked much more exhausted here, outside the net meeting room. More real. More weary.
“President Bollar, I may have a solution to all of our woes.”
Shun launched into her explanation of the asteroid, leaving out its provenance and many details that Prime would balk at having shared. She kept to the facts, and as she spoke, Biran noted a small, blinking red light flick on in the room’s corner, where the cameras were. Well, they’d gotten someone’s attention, at any rate.
While Shun talked, Biran surreptitiously pressed the interior lock overrides for the war room door. They could still get in, and they could cut the feed, but not without making the intervention obvious to the Icarion president on the other end of that call, which would make Prime look weak. Like it had lost control of three of its best Keepers. They would not do such a thing. Cohesion was what held them together. The door rattled. It did not burst open.
Shun ended her explanation, and Bollar agreed to report to his own advisers and schedule a conversation at a later date, once Shun and the others had secured scouting resources for the asteroid. He seemed… hopeful. Lighter, somehow. That emotion was not easily faked, Biran well knew. If Bollar knew about the asteroid before this moment, if his people had planned it as a trap, then he was the greatest liar Biran had ever known.
He rambled off a few parting pleasantries and ended the call, looking up to meet the gazes of his coconspirators. “Are you prepared?”
Solemn nods. Biran unlocked the door.
The rest of Ada’s Protectorate waited on the other side, faces grim, a black crescent of guardcore flanking them while Anford stood in their middle, her usually stolid expression torn between anger and amusement.
Olver spoke first. “Speaker Greeve, I thought we talked about these stunts.”
“My apologies, Director. I saw no other way to secure peace for both our peoples.”
“You conniving little shit.” Hitton shouldered her way forward. “Whatever distaste you harbor for me personally, my fears were not unfounded. That gate—if it can even be built!—cannot be protected to a standard in accordance with our custom.”
Biran strained to keep some of the exhaustion from his voice. Now that the adrenaline of the moment had fled him, his limbs dragged him down like deadweight. “General Anford, do you believe that the High Protectorate will fail to provide you with appropriate fleet support?”
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