Over Freezing Altitudes

by Kate MacLeod

  “Yes,” Warrior said. “As I’ve told you many times, the point of my evaluating you was only to determine the path ahead, not to compare you to anyone else or any hypothetical version of you that stayed in school. My methods are not intended to measure anything, only to guide our future progress.”

  “I know,” Scout sighed. She turned to say something more, then saw one of the tribunal enforcers standing in her doorway.

  She called it a doorway, but as there were no doors anywhere inside the ship, there was probably another word that described it better. Opening, maybe? Slight narrowing where the hall turned around itself? The layout of the corridors was nothing orderly like a grid, more like the tunnels created by random paths of worms.

  “Do you need me?” Scout asked. She knew they understood words perfectly well even though they never used them themselves. Still, it felt polite to make a stab at their own form of communication, and Scout put all of her polite inquiry and willingness to comply on her face. She exaggerated her facial expressions as she tried to be clear; she hoped that didn’t come across as shouting.

  The tribunal enforcer, seeing that they had her attention, turned and led the way down the hall. The dogs had curled back up together to go back to sleep, and Scout left them as they were. Without glasses like Scout’s, they had no way of seeing the walls and quickly got lost inside the ship. After a few episodes of lost-doggy panic—one of which had ended with Gert running full tilt into a wall hard enough to stun herself despite her thick skull—they preferred to stay in the bunk unless Scout led them around on leashes.

  Warrior, being an AI and therefore tied to Scout, fell into step beside her.

  If the tribunal enforcers had optical implants or some other technology that allowed them to see the AI, they never let on that they knew she was there. On the other hand, they never found it odd when Scout talked to what would otherwise seem to be thin air either.

  The tribunal enforcer took her down a long, spiraling hallway to a room deeper in the heart of the crystalline structure. The floor and ceiling were far from flat, more like water frozen in gentle waves, cresting into innumerable stalagmites and stalactites.

  The tribunal enforcer stopped at one such stalagmite, one that had been broken or sawed off at an angle, leaving an exposed oval that shone like glass. At first, it was like looking into a mirror that was tipped forty-five degrees away from her, giving her an outsized view of her own chin.

  Then a light danced over the surface, rippling like someone throwing a handful of sand over a pond on an intensely sunny day. When it settled, she was looking at Bo Tajaki.

  “Hello, Scout,” he said the moment he saw her. “I hope all is well?”

  Scout looked at the young man she had only known for a few days but who had become almost like a big brother to her. Despite her best efforts not to trust him or anyone else connected to the Tajaki trade dynasty, he had just seemed to understand her and see her as she was.

  Right now, there was real concern in his brown eyes as he asked how she was, and she knew he wanted an honest answer.

  She thought of the mysterious effects of the warp field and how she had felt odd all the way through hyperspace.

  She thought of the pervasive cold that never left her bones, the tired sadness she was sure would pass if she could just feel the sun on her skin.

  She thought of the thick paste that was the tribunal enforcers’ only food. She assumed it was made from some sort of algae, but there was no way to know for sure. She had described the earthy, salty taste and gritty texture to Warrior over and over, but the AI’s databases offered no clue what Scout was eating.

  But before Scout could find a way to put any of that into words that wouldn’t sound like she was complaining, Bo spoke again.

  “Are you wearing a tribunal enforcer robe?” he asked. “Is that allowed? I thought it was considered a badge of office.”

  “I think they made an exception for me when the clothes I was wearing all turned transparent when we went into hyperspace.”

  Bo looked confused, but only for a moment. Then his cheeks flushed ever-so-slightly pink. “Smart cloth. You went out of range. I’m sorry, Scout. You left in such a hurry, and I never even thought to return your own clothes to you.”

  “I have my galactic marshal belt and a scarf from the market on Amatheon Orbiter 1,” Scout said. “Those are still normal. I’m sure I’ll get something else when we land.”

  She did miss the smart clothes, though. Warrior had helped her create an outfit that suited her perfectly, warm and with lots of pockets. Now she had all of her things in her belt, the pouches bulging with items that were impossible to retrieve in a hurry. Not that she was likely to need any of it on this ship where the tribunal enforcers knew what she needed even before she did, but Scout liked to be prepared.

  Always being prepared for any sort of trouble had saved her life on more than one occasion.

  “If money is ever an issue, please just ask,” Bo said. “I can’t fund the cause of these lawyer friends of yours; aside from not agreeing that their plan is the best thing for Amatheon, that would be a huge legal snarl for my own lawyers. But I can make sure you have proper clothing, food, whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Scout said. “Any news?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Bo said. “We are about to go into hyperspace ourselves, which is why I wanted to call. My people have searched the entire ship, but there is still no sign of Shi Jian.”

  “I didn’t think there would be,” Scout said.

  “I’ll have the ship searched again when we reach Galactic Central, but by my father’s people. Before we dock. Just to be sure.”

  Scout nodded. “What about the child assassins?”

  Bo flinched at the word. She didn’t see him bite his tongue to keep from correcting her with the word “spies,” but she sensed how badly he wanted to.

  “They are still confined to quarters and are cooperating fully with my security team,” Bo told her.

  “They’re waiting for orders from Shi Jian,” Scout said.

  “I don’t think so. They’re just kids, Scout.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Scout said.

  But she was sure he wasn’t. Too many of those kids had tried to kill her.

  “Listen, Scout,” Bo said, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “If Shi Jian somehow found a way off this ship, she could be coming after you. I’m not sure those lawyer friends of yours are going to be able to protect you.”

  “The message they left for me said we’ll be staying at Liam McGillicuddy’s house,” Scout said.

  “I know he’s a galactic marshal and your trusted friend, but I also know he’s still in tribunal custody,” Bo said. “He’s not getting out any time soon. He can’t protect you either.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Scout promised. “I’ll keep my eyes open and my dogs close.”

  “And you have me,” the AI tutor reminded her.

  “And I have Warrior,” Scout said. Bo was wearing his little round glasses that would normally allow him to see the AI, but Scout didn’t know if that worked over whatever communication system was letting her talk to him over such vast distances of space.

  It had taken five days to travel through hyperspace to get here; how did the communication system work? Another question for Warrior when they had a free moment. She had spent most of the last five days just trying to get a grasp on the concept of hyperspace. Warrior promised her it would make more sense once she understood the math.

  Then she had shown Scout the math, full of letters and symbols, and Scout had no idea how any of that could actually be math.

  “I will contact you again when I reach Galactic Central,” Bo told her. “Please stay safe.”

  “I will,” Scout promised.

  She hoped she sounded surer than she felt.

  “I should have sent guards with you,” Bo said. “Not that the tribunal enforcers would have allowed it.”<
br />
  “I wouldn’t have trusted them anyway,” Scout said. “Not until you and your father’s team sort out who is really loyal to you and not Shi Jian. Maybe not even then.”

  Bo’s eyes darted to either side as if making sure the room around him was clear. She couldn’t see details on the crystal screen, but she could imagine the library around him. Rows of freestanding bookshelves, display cases of artifacts, dim lighting. It would be ridiculously easy to be close and yet not seen in such a place.

  He leaned closer to whatever he was speaking into, probably his tablet, but Scout raised a hand before he could say a word.

  “Don’t say anything you don’t want overheard,” Scout said. “It’s better to assume that someone is listening.”

  Bo nodded, taking a moment to reframe his words, then leaned in to speak. “I’ve been looking into Shi Jian. Researching her background. I told you my father hired her after she saved me from a kidnapping attempt as a child. I’m sure his people did a thorough background check on her at the time, even though as a galactic marshal it would be easy to assume she was an upstanding citizen with nothing to hide. My father’s people are very thorough. Everything in her record looks good at a glance, but some things don’t make sense when I really dig into them. Dates and locations in her background. I think the data might have been tampered with. I’ll know more when I get to Galactic Central.”

  “If you want someone you can trust to dig further, contact Emilie Tonnelier,” Scout said.

  “I know she’s your friend, but I couldn’t convince her to choose to testify for me over my cousins in court, and my cousins are barely sane. Why would she help me now?”

  “Curiosity,” Scout said with frank honesty. If it seemed even remotely like someone was trying to hide something, Emilie wouldn’t rest until she had uncovered everything. “Also, Shi Jian tried to kill Seeta Malini. We still don’t know if Seeta will come out of her coma or ever fully recover. I doubt you’d find anyone more motivated to help you take her down.”

  “Noted,” Bo said, and for a moment he looked pleased. But then the nervousness returned, and he glanced over his shoulders again. “Scout, whether she’s spying on me or not, there is one thing Shi Jian knows for sure. Her future in the Tajaki trade dynasty is over, and there’s no way she’s ever going to be a galactic marshal again. She’s got nothing left to lose. She’s capable of doing anything. Please, please be careful.”

  “I will,” Scout said, and Bo’s image flickered and faded away.

  Scout tucked her hands inside the sleeves of her borrowed robe and headed back to her room, Warrior falling into step beside her but not interrupting the confused racing of Scout’s thoughts.

  Bo didn’t have it quite right. He thought Shi Jian had made a mistake, that Scout had used it to expose her and ruin her career.

  But that wasn’t what had happened. Shi Jian had exposed herself. She had wanted Scout to see her and to warn the others. Scout had nearly lost her life in the fight to get that word out.

  But she hadn’t. And knowing Shi Jian and what she was capable of, she should have.

  Somehow, in some way Scout couldn’t see, Shi Jian was still using her as a pawn. Probably Bo as well. And without knowing what the game was, Scout didn’t know how she was going to thwart any of Shi Jian’s moves.

  But Bo was right about the last thing he’d said. Shi Jian was capable of doing anything.

  3

  Scout sat on the floor of the space outside the airlock, a dog on a leash close on either side of her. One of the tribunal enforcers had fetched her when they had started their final approach to the planet that was her destination. To her surprise, when she reached the airlock, the rest of the ménage was waiting there for her as if to say good-bye to their guest.

  Scout wasn’t sure what form that farewell would take. They were still all just standing and watching her, hands tucked inside their sleeves, faces as blank as ever.

  Scout was slipping her glasses up and down her nose to look at the ship around her as she had grown used to seeing it, as a thing of living crystal, and then as it appeared in its unenhanced state, which was nothingness.

  The crystal ship was more comforting, but when she was floating in the nothingness, she could more easily see the planet they were approaching.

  They drew closer until the white of Schneeheim filled the view below her. Details sharpened the wispy white of clouds against the grayish white of the world below as it gained definition. Some of the gray had more structure, forming long, jagged mountain ranges. The ship settled over the largest of the ranges, matching its orbit to the rotation of the world so that they seemed to be hovering in one place.

  The clouds below were dense, only occasionally giving glimpses of something glinting brightly back up at them.

  “The harbor ship is approaching,” Warrior told her.

  “Harbor ship?” Scout asked.

  “This ship is not designed to enter atmosphere, not even the thin atmosphere of the port,” Warrior said. “The harbor ship will bring you the rest of the way down.”

  “Just me?” Scout asked. That explained her feeling that the tribunal enforcers were waiting with her to say good-bye. They weren’t going with her.

  They weren’t going to be there to explain everything that had happened to Liam’s friends the Torreses. Or to Liam’s family. They weren’t going to be the ones to explain how he came to be arrested.

  Scout’s stomach tightened into an anxious fist. She knew it was all her fault. He had broken the barricade just to get to her. He’d had no reason to put his neck out like that except for a feeling of obligation to his galactic marshal partner, the woman who had died saving Scout’s life.

  Scout didn’t know how she was going to put half of what she was feeling about all that into words, especially if they were going to be the first words she spoke to strangers. But she was going to have to.

  “The harbor ship is close enough for you to see,” Warrior said, and Scout was certain her AI teacher was deliberately distracting her to take her mind off her anxiety. Still, she took the distraction. She wanted to see what a harbor ship looked like before she was inside of it.

  Scout leaned forward, palms pressed to the floor beneath her as she peered through the now-invisible hull. The domed city flashed now and again through breaks in the dense cloud cover. She could see the dots of ships clustering around the tops of the towers that protruded beyond the glittering dome.

  She scanned the space between her and the city, looking for anything moving her way. It took her some time to find it, but once she had, she gasped out loud.

  It was as white as the world behind it, but its surface was sleek against the duller cloud tops. And it was far larger than she had expected. As she tried to make sense of what she was looking at, its floating movement slowed to a halt. Then it jerked and lunged closer, the sudden movement causing the silky surface to ripple.

  It was a balloon. She was looking at the top of a truly massive balloon.

  A few more jerking lunges and it was even with the side of the tribunal enforcers’ ship, the balloon filling Scout’s view beyond the invisible airlock.

  Then the gondola lifted up into view. It reminded her of Bo Tajaki’s ship, its delicate lines reminiscent of boats from the past, if less decorative. Scout could see little rockets in the front and back of the ship firing, angling, and firing again, little bursts as the pilot lined up with the airlock.

  “How can they even see what they’re doing?” Scout asked.

  “The tribunal enforcers send data to the navigational computers of docking ships. If they didn’t, docking would be nearly impossible,” Warrior told her.

  A round port on the side of the gondola began to turn, telescoping out until it met the airlock and attached. Then both doors opened with a whoosh of air and Scout could see down the long telescoped hallway to the interior of the other ship.

  A girl about her age was looking back at her, waving a greeting. Her black hair wa
s shaved close to her head, and her arms and legs looked far too thin, as if she were fighting a wasting illness. But her face had a healthy glow and a friendly smile.

  “Scout Shannon?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Scout said.

  “Welcome to the airship Hikosen! I’m Minato. My father Umi and I are here to take you down to the surface. They said you needed a change of clothes. Here!”

  She tossed a bundle of clothing. The bundle left her hand in a straight-line trajectory Scout recognized from her times in free fall, but when it reached the edge of the tribunal enforcers’ airlock, it fell to the floor.

  “No gravity over there,” Scout said as she reached for the bundle and untied the sleeves of the shirt that had been holding it all together. “Wait a minute—how is there gravity here?” Scout asked. “We’re not spinning.”

  “The two Tajaki family dynasty ships you were just on also had artificial gravity that wasn’t generated by spin. Didn’t you notice?” Warrior asked in a particularly teacherly voice.

  “No, actually,” Scout said. She could feel her cheeks heating up as she pulled on the leggings and then slipped off the robe the tribunal enforcers had lent her. Not that she was embarrassed to be naked; the AI and her dogs were the only ones looking at her, and they had seen her naked before.

  No, she was embarrassed because she should have noticed about the spin. Of course, she had never seen the outside of the Months’ ship, and she had only seen Bo’s ship after she had left it. It made sense that she assumed they were spinning wheels or cylinders like the space stations she had been on.

  “This is common, then? Artificial gravity?” Scout asked as she pulled on the tunic-length shirt and adjusted her belt over it.

  “Not really,” Warrior said. “The Tajaki trade dynasty is the richest in the galaxy, and the tribunal enforcers have government funding. But the technology is spreading.”

  “No gravity on the harbor ship, though,” Scout said.

  “No. And remember the planet itself has far less gravitational pull than you are accustomed to,” Warrior reminded her.