“You two were so smart,” he said with a small, sad smile. “And Graham and I… We know how being too clever for your own good can be turned against you. I don’t know if we succeeded in preparing you two. I’m not sure anyone could, but we sure as hell tried.” He looked up, met Biran’s gaze steadily. “So you go on. Go out there and pull Icarion’s asses out of the fire they started. But be careful, for fuck’s sake, okay? Watch your sister’s back. You know she’s watching yours.”
CHAPTER 43
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
PROMISES, PROMISES
Leon Gutarra moved like a man expecting a knife in the dark, and judging by the high quantity of scars on his arms and face, this was not a movement pattern born of unfounded paranoia.
Sanda met him on the docks with her ship at her back, Nox on her right, and a holster on her hip, coat pulled back so he could see she was armed but had the safety locked on. Laguna had promised her a contact. She had said nothing about how willing the man would be, and Sanda needed this to be as smooth as possible.
“Greeve?” He had a barking way of speaking, as if each word cost him something and he was a miser at heart.
“I am. You’re Gutarra?”
“Ain’t no one else stupid enough to meet you out here for this handoff,” he said, but flashed his ident to her wristpad anyway. “Goddamn Point gunship docked at Monte? Everyone’s crawling up their own asses trying to figure out what it means. You know we’re being spied on? Like, right now?”
“I’m used to it.” The credentials checked out, so she pressed her comm earpiece. “Conway, bring ’em out.”
A gangway extended from the shuttle’s secondary airlock to the dock. The scientists came out in a huddled line, clumped together and blinking in the sharp lights of the station’s dock. Dal led the charge, his shoulders hunched with suspicion and his eyes darting back and forth. He expected a trap. Sanda couldn’t blame him.
“Over here,” she said, and waved an arm to gesture them her way.
“Minor injuries,” she said to Gutarra as they made their way over. When Dal was in earshot, she said, “Nothing serious, but check them for internal injuries. We don’t exactly have proper medical facilities.”
“Gunships aren’t usually in the saving-life business,” he said, and rolled one shoulder, eyeing up his new charges. “Name’s Leon Gutarra, most people around here call me Leon, and you’re welcome to yourselves. You aren’t prisoners, but we will hold you in quarantine until your health can be assessed and the detective in charge of the case involving your old boss gets here to interview you. Questions?”
“When will she get here?” Novak asked.
“Don’t know. Hightailed it off Atrux as soon as this arrangement was settled, so as long as the fastest shuttle she could afford will take, and I don’t believe she could afford much on SecureSite’s dime, you understand.”
“When can we contact our families?” Sarai asked.
“After you’re stable and have been interviewed.”
Liao emerged from the ship. Sanda hadn’t seen her much since she’d made her deal, and if she hadn’t been expecting her, she might not have recognized her. Conway had rummaged up a Prime jumpsuit and a set of body-harness straps to function as pockets, making her look more like she’d stepped out of a fleet station than a research station. She had even gotten some scuffs on her mag boots, despite her limited mobility on the Thorn.
Dal started toward her, but she held up a hand to forestall him and stalked toward Sanda.
“Commander Greeve, we have an arrangement, and I’d like to uphold my end of the bargain someplace a little more private.”
Sanda suppressed a smile. “Well then, you might as well come along with us. That all right, Gutarra? I’ll send her to you with an escort when we’re through.”
“No trouble at all,” Gutarra said. “Got any other needs aside from a private meeting space? No offense meant, darlin’, but I want you and your guns off this station as soon as possible. Tell me what you need to facilitate that.”
“My engineer, Knuth, is after some parts for an air recycler. Should be easy enough to find, and a quick fix once he’s got them.”
“Consider it done. I’ll flash him the location of our local sellers, even extend you a discount.”
Her smile was wry. “You mean cut down on the usual inflation applied to nonresidents of the station?”
“You park here, you pay here.”
He waved an arm, calling his subordinates over. They took the scientists in their care and started shuffling them toward SecureSite’s holding cells. A heaviness filled Sanda’s chest as she watched them go, wondering if she’d missed something, if she’d done something wrong by bringing them here. Gutarra knew his station, and that was well enough, but that didn’t mean he was equipped to handle these people.
“Take care of them, Leon.”
He leaned back and lifted both brows. “Golly gee, sir, I was going to stick their asses out the airlock and see what flew out. Of course I’ll look after them. Monte’s not some shithole, you know. We grow food here, some of the best in the ’verse, and that’s why you gotta shove off as soon as you’re able, because the people here don’t like guns, understand? Especially whole damn ships strapped up with them.”
“You’re here,” she said.
“Yeah. SecureSite is here to keep the peace, and we do that without blowing holes in people. We get a few rowdy drunks, domestic disputes, the usual chaos of a lot of people living together. But Monte is safe, and I dislike the look of you on my dock, let alone walking my streets. So get your shit together and go hole up in one of the open apartments near the market district until your ship is fixed and you can mosey the fuck away from here.”
“Flash me the address, and you won’t see me or my people until you’re watching our backsides disappear into the black.”
“Thank the goddamn skies you have some sense. Here’s the address.” He sent a coordinate to her wristpad. “You have access credentials for the next forty hours, take longer than that and we’ll find you a bigger hole to hide in.”
“Agreed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re far too agreeable, you know that?”
“We want to drop these people with you, fix our ship, and be on our way. Don’t want to make your life harder than it is.”
“Keep saying all the right things, Commander, and I might start liking you.”
He screwed up his lips like he was going to spit, thought better of it, then hooked his thumbs in his belt and walked away. Despite his confessed dislike of guns, he was toting two rather expensive handblasters, cleaned to a low shine. Sanda smiled to herself. Old habits, no doubt.
She pressed her comm. “Everyone off. We have access to a residence, and Knuth, you have some shopping to do.”
She’d said everyone, but she meant everyone except Conway. She’d stay on board and monitor the ship.
Sanda wondered at her own paranoia while they walked to the market. There, any illusion she’d allowed herself to entertain that no one was paying attention to her—why would they?—was well and fully shattered.
The market district was chaos. Frenetic energy spilled from hologram ads hanging at the regulation altitude above their heads. Aggressive shopkeepers and kids hired to hawk shouted their wares and deals of the day, or the hour, depending on the type of business.
It seemed everyone on the station had something of value to sell. It wasn’t just the usual media files and hardware. These people were pushing fruit, vegetables, grains. Solid, vitamin-rich foods rarely found off-planet because of the expense. The walls of the market, the stalls, the awnings and their poles, everything was painted in the vibrant hues of plant life. Even the holos were talking about root structures and nutrient misting.
But the people weren’t selling to Sanda and her crew. As they passed through the center drive aisle, following the blip on Sanda’s wristpad that led them to the apartment, the people moved aside. Half
averted their eyes, half outright stared.
Sanda swallowed a bitter lump. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” she whispered to Nox, who’d stuck to her side like glue, his rifle over his back instead of in his hands, but not less threatening for it.
“It’s not just the weapons,” he said, and tilted his chin up to one of the news drones flitting above their heads.
Biran was there, as he was more often than not lately, delivering one of his many recorded speeches about helping Icarion rebuild in light of the damage done to their habitat dome by the explosion Bero had caused on the research station orbiting their moon. He was pitching his grand plan to build a gate in orbit around an asteroid.
But the reporters of the world couldn’t resist dragging Sanda into things, and as he spoke with calm compassion, a ticker trailed below with an image of her face and the gauche headline—SPEAKER GREEVE, BROTHER OF DRALEE HERO MAJOR GREEVE.
“Dios,” she hissed.
Nox snickered. “You did it to yourself.”
“No, I mean, look at that picture. I really need a haircut.”
He snorted, but no one complained when she picked up the pace. Not quite running, just fast enough to be considered a Serious Walk, or whatever important people with important things to do did to get through a crowd. This wasn’t supposed to be her place in the world.
It was Biran who’d been destined to be a Keeper. She’d joined the fleet only to protect him, to work behind the scenes to keep her family and her people safe.
That plan hadn’t worked out so well. While some citizens watched her with the open awe reserved for war heroes and top-rate surgeons, others turned their faces away. Shut doors. Grabbed their children by the arms and hurried them from her path. Arden may have cleared up the footage of her killing Lavaux, and the Prime Inventive PR machine had spun away to correct the damage to her public image, but the people didn’t forget. Behind some of those wary eyes, animosity lingered.
Whether the gazes in the market tracked her out of fear or admiration was irrelevant. She didn’t want this place in the world any more than she wanted the chip in her head, but they were both there—thrust upon her—and she could fight and kick and scream and make a fool of herself, or try to claw some dignity back. Try to make the best with the hand she’d been dealt.
Sanda slowed her pace, lifted her chin, her shoulders. Moved the way she’d seen Anford move for so long. She hadn’t been trained for this, Anford had been right about that. She wasn’t a leader, not really.
She used to think captaining a gunship set her apart somehow, strengthened her mind and will, but that hadn’t been real leadership. She’d been following the orders someone further up the chain had given her. When she’d been a gunship captain, the only time civvies looked at her was when they were worried she’d drag her crew into a bar and make a nuisance of herself. This was different. This mattered.
The face on that news ticker was expected to lead. It didn’t matter how raw and scared the woman behind it was.
Sanda swiped her way into the apartment and let out a deep sigh of relief as the door swished shut after her crew, and Liao, were safely inside.
“Fuck,” she said, to no one in particular. “We cannot move around this station until we’re ready to leave. We draw too much attention.”
“Begging your pardon, Commander, but it’s you drawing the attention,” Knuth said. “I’ll be all right if I go on my own to get the parts.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, and sank onto a slightly too-firm couch. “Go ahead, get what you need. Gutarra wants us off this station as soon as possible and he’s right, we’re a disruption.”
“Hold on,” Arden said, “what about Laguna? I want to hear what she gets out of the scientists about Jules.”
“So do I,” Sanda said, “but we can hear about it from the Thorn.”
“I’ll stick around Monte long enough to sit in on Laguna’s interviews,” Graham said with a wan smile. “Pass a firsthand account along to you.”
Sanda tried to return the smile, but couldn’t. “Thanks, Dad.”
“What do you mean, stick around Monte?” Nox asked. “Abandoning your own daughter so soon? Didn’t realize walking out was such a habit with you.”
Graham turned purple, the vein on the side of his neck bulging. “Don’t you fucking dare—”
“Both of you,” Sanda snapped, “shut the hell up. Graham stays behind. My orders.” She set her jaw. “It’s better that way.”
“Cutting the fat off your team, I get it,” Nox drawled.
“Nox…” Arden said, warning in their voice. “Drop it.”
Sanda cleared her throat to cut off Graham before he got started. “Liao, the sample and your explanation, if you please.” She held her hand out to the doctor.
“I cannot be certain, but my colleagues and I believe this to be a sampling of our most successful amplification nanites in a matrix of growing solution meant to facilitate self-replication. I am sorry we did not explain it sooner, but we feared repercussions for breaking the self-replication laws.”
Sanda frowned. “That’s what you were worried about?”
“They are stringent. And as things stand, this sample is our only evidence that we were working under direction, with proper governors in place.” She dug into one of her harness pockets and pulled the flask out.
“Your governors are broken,” Sanda said, staring hard into her eyes. Genuine surprise widened them. Interesting, so the Nazca had been right. They didn’t know.
“Impossible. How can you even know—?”
Nox said, “That’s not my flask.”
“Yes it is, you gave it to me,” Liao said, bewildered, but Sanda was already feeling cold waves of dread roll through her.
“No, it’s not. That’s not mine. Mine’s got a copper inlay around the screw top, and anyway, that thing’s too new and shiny.”
“Open it,” Sanda said.
Liao’s eyes widened. “We don’t know—”
She was on her feet in an instant and snatched the flask from Liao, then screwed the top open. Sanda ignored Liao shouting about contaminating the sample and brought the flask to her nose and sniffed.
“Grot,” she said.
Nox held out a hand and she passed it to him. He took a swig, swished it around. “Not my brand, but not bad. Definitely not purple goo.”
“Fucking Nazca,” Sanda hissed.
Ignoring the shouting going on all around her, she dialed in Gutarra’s ident on her pad and hit the button for priority. His face came up instantly, flushed with irritation.
“What’s so damn impor—”
“Where’s Novak?” she demanded, heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her boots.
“In the cell with the others, what’s this—”
“Check.”
“Excuse me?”
“Check the fucking cell, Leon, and do it now.”
Something clicked in his head, she could see it in his face as he switched from annoyance to alertness. “Checking now.”
She held her breath for the forty seconds it took him to leave his office, run down the hall, and open the door to the cells. She didn’t need him to answer her, she could see it on his face.
Leo Novak was gone.
“How the—”
“Shut the shuttles down, the evac pods. Shut the whole goddamn station down. Monte is on lockdown until Leo Novak is found.”
CHAPTER 44
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
THERE’S ALWAYS A BIGGER PROBLEM
Sanda was sure he wouldn’t stay here. He had to have known the switch wouldn’t remain undiscovered for long, and he’d need to get out as quickly as possible. What would a Nazca do if they needed to get off this station in a hurry, without anyone growing suspicious until it was already too late? Schmoozing his way through the docks seemed unlikely, given the timeline. What would Tomas have done?
Exactly what they’d done on Ada Station—make for the d
ocks via the maintenance access passages and try to steal a shuttle.
“Arden,” she ordered, “get me cameras all over this station, get me comms, and get me access to any maintenance pathways. I need maps, and I need them now. Shortest route between SecureSite holding and the shuttle docks.”
“On it,” they said.
“Could have gone for an evac,” Nox said. “It’s riskier, but if he was sure of a pickup coming for him, then it’d be easier to get to a pod than the docks.”
“True. Arden, check for any recently launched pods—how many pod docks are there?”
They squinted at their pad. “Dozens, but I can’t see launch history. Something’s corrupting the data.”
“Motherfucker is trying to confuse things. We’ll need visual. Nox, check the pods west-to-north, Graham and Knuth take south-to-east. I’m going for the shuttle docks.”
“Alone?” Graham’s voice was strained.
“Unless you see another combat-ready friend hanging around, yes. Alone.”
“Conway—”
Sanda pressed her earpiece. “Conway. Novak did a runner. Stand ready to shoot down any rogue shuttle. Track everything in the immediate vicinity. You find anything the tiniest bit suspicious, flag it and call me.”
“Understood,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” Liao said. “Novak was new, he’s just a young engineer, there’s no reason to shoot him. He’s probably frightened that we’ll get in trouble and wants to destroy the evidence.”
“Leo Novak is the alias of a Nazca, one of an organization of intergalactic spies spread across the inhabited universe. Your broken governors allow signals to reach the energy protocols for the gates. You’ve handed a flask full of self-replicating nanites capable of shutting down the Casimir Gates to a spy. Consider yourself briefed, this is classified, just shut the fuck up and let us work. That flask cannot leave this station.”
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