by John Appel
“Understood, ma’am,” Meiko said. Kumar left and, as promised, Dr. Tran returned a few moments later to fit Meiko with a set of trodes to help induce medical sleep.
We’re behind, but you’re stuck down the gravity well, she thought as she drifted off.
She dreamed of a falcon plunging towards its prey.
CHAPTER TEN
Noo
Masjid Aljisr Alnujmaa, Ileri Station,
South Ring
Noo hated funerals.
Since the station kept the same time as New Abuja below, prayer times for the station’s Muslims followed suit. Since the Isha salat, the night prayer, began at 2036 hours on the surface, and so it did in the station above.
The architects had done something clever to give Masjid Aljisr Alnujmaa, the Star Bridge Mosque, a feeling of open airiness, Noo thought, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Perhaps it was the way the arching dome seemed to draw the eye ever-upwards, or the delicate latticework open columns that braced the dome and ceiling while still providing a view. And the ceiling was high, even from Noo’s perspective in the Visitation Gallery lining the upper level. It was a delicate robin’s-egg blue of the open sky Noo had seldom seen in person, the kind of blue that her station-born-and-raised brain usually gave her fits over. But here, it worked some magic on her, bringing a small measure of peace.
Most of the firm’s employees were present, a few in the mosque proper, the rest in the Visitation Gallery. Two had been dispatched somewhere mysterious by Fathya on some errand she declined to discuss with Noo. Two others remained on duty back at the office, and a handful more worked assignments unrelated to the killings. A number of the young man’s friends had come, some of whom Noo recognized by sight, though she couldn’t have put names to any of them if her djinn hadn’t pulled their IDs and helpfully displayed AR tags above their heads. As family, Noo and her daughter Yinwa claimed spots in the front row of the gallery. Fari’s wife Ifedepo, nearly the physical opposite of Fari in every respect with willowy slender limbs and delicate features, sat with them. She and Yinwa worked together in biosphere maintenance; in fact, Yinwa had introduced the couple to each other.
Daniel Imoke, looking weary, slipped in shortly before prayers began, which wasn’t a surprise. Commissioner Toiwa arrived on his heels, which was. Toiwa spotted Noo watching her, caught Noo’s eye, and nodded crisply before taking a free spot in a back row.
Fari stood, resolute, next to her brother’s coffin at the back of the mosque, with her grandmother Fathya beside her. Two cousins who didn’t work for the firm hovered nearby, with several of Saed’s friends rounding out the party of bearers. When the call to prayer came, all the bearers but Fari took their places among the prostrating worshippers. Ifedepo sucked in her breath, and Noo was surprised herself. A crisis of faith, maybe? Or was it something like a Christian being out of grace? She shot a glance at Yinwa, who shrugged; she and Fari were close as sisters, but either she didn’t know the reason behind the behavior or was keeping it to herself. Noo felt her fragile sense of peace begin to crack, knowing that her work partner’s soul was out of balance and that she hadn’t known. Or was this a new development, just spawned today? Later. Be the arm she can lean on when she asks for it.
The service began but Noo paid scant attention to the rounds of prayers, prostration, standing, and yet more prostration that followed. Noo resisted the impulse to call up personal AR fields, and instead offered her own silent prayers. Guide Saed to his rest. Peace unto his spirit, and to the spirits of his kin. Bring us light in our hour of darkness. Her jaw tightened, and her hands curled into fists. And grant strength to my limbs, cunning to my mind, and sharpness to my vision, that I might enact righteous justice.
You weren’t supposed to ask the orisha for vengeance, but Noo’s personal faith had evolved into a more flexible creed over the years. Had she lost her sense of the spirits because of this, or had her attitude changed when her prayers began being met with silence? She frowned, not trusting her own memory. Still, the need to rationalize burned in her brain. Not vengeance, but justice, she told herself, as if thinking the words made it so.
And if what she truly sought was both? So be it, and fire take those in her path.
The imam read a chapter of the Quran in Arabic but, lost in her own thoughts, she turned down the translation her djinn helpfully offered. After another round of prayer, the faithful stood and at the imam’s gesture, a path opened down the middle of the congregation. The pallbearers took up their burden, carrying it to the front of the worship room, and placed it upon a folding stand. The imam took his place and the faithful arrayed themselves in lines behind him. The squat man spread his arms wide and uttered the funeral prayer. The rhythm of his recitation drew her in, and despite herself, Noo followed along, this time accepting the audible translation.
“O God, forgive our living and our dead, those who are present among us and those who are absent, our young and our old, our folk of all genders. O God, whoever You keep alive, keep them alive in Islam, and whoever You cause to die, cause them to die with faith. O God, do not deprive us of the reward and do not cause us to go astray after this. O God, forgive them and have mercy on them, keep them safe and sound and forgive them, honor their rest and ease their entrance; wash them with water and snow and hail, and cleanse them of sin as a white garment is cleansed of dirt. O God, give them a home better than their home and a family greater than their family. O God, admit them to Paradise and protect them from the torment of the grave and the torment of Hell-fire, and fill their rest with light.”
I guess they mean grave figuratively now, she thought. The van waiting outside would take the body and the immediate family to the Renewal Center, where Saed’s body would be recycled, continuing the circle of life as had been the practice since the earliest days of Exile. The hard truths of the closed-loop life-support systems and terraforming of the First Fourteen had demanded all the Earth-based biomass available, Way Back When. Survival of the species—the uninfected part, anyway—drowned out the religious objections. Or so the histories tell us.
The imam gestured again, and once more the crowd parted. The bearers carried the coffin towards the entry. Noo turned to hug Ifedepo and spotted Daniel joining Toiwa, who now hunkered in a corner of the gallery with her chief of staff, Valverdes.
“Are you coming, Mamma?” Yinwa, arm in arm with Ifedepo, asked.
Noo glanced towards the entry but Fathya, Fari and the others had already moved outside. Her eyes flicked back to her daughter, and then over to the tight little knot of constables. “Afraid not, loves. Business.” She jerked her head in Daniel’s direction.
“Business always wins,” Yinwa said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice. But she yielded as Ifedepo shushed her and guided her to the steps.
Noo ached to explain, that it was all in service of finding Saed’s killer, and that she could serve him best by doing this, instead of seeing his body handed over to the Reclaimers. She’d made that trip often enough. But the girls—she found it hard to think of them as women —
were gone too fast, and the moment was lost.
She chewed her bottom lip and stalked over towards Daniel and Toiwa, pushing her way through the last of the departing visitors. Let’s see if we can dig some news out of the tight-ass. Valverdes tried to intercept her but she shouldered the younger woman aside with a low grunt, feeling the buzz of a privacy field as she did so.
“I want our people in on this, Sergeant, there’s no way—” Toiwa cut off as Noo invaded their space, shooting the investigator a fierce look. “M. Okereke, we are discussing sensitive Constabulary business.”
“Not discussing a break in the case, then?” Noo set her feet and planted her hands on her hips. “Since Daniel is the primary investigator, I assumed that’s why you called him over so urgently.”
“A Constabulary investigation.” Toiwa locked eyes with Noo. “Please excuse us.”
Valverdes made to tug at Noo’
s elbow but she side-stepped, staying just inside the privacy field’s boundaries. “You understand that this is personal for me, for Fathya, for Fari? For our whole concern? That we’ll keep digging and following every lead we find, wherever it takes us, until we find the killers?” Toiwa opened her mouth and Noo flung up her hands. “We can go places you can’t, talk to people who won’t talk to yours. But we don’t have to work at cross purposes.” She shrugged off Valverdes as the smaller woman tried once more to pull her away. “Read us in. We can work together on this and clip these fuckers.”
The sound of Daniel clearing his throat drew both women’s attention. “M. Okereke has a point, Commissioner,” he said. “I can tell you from experience”—he grimaced—“much experience, decades worth, that M. Shariff and M. Okereke will pursue this to its conclusion. And,” he said with a nod in Noo’s direction, “she’s also correct that their operatives can supplement our officers in, er, unconventional settings.”
Toiwa glared like the sun through an unfiltered window. “You mean, she has criminal connections she can exploit.” Her eyes flicked towards Daniel. “Just like—the other party we were discussing.”
Daniel shrugged. “They’re getting positive results. We’ve mostly got negative ones so far. As you say, speedy resolution is essential.” He turned to look at Noo. “And at least in their case, we can be assured their motives and loyalties align with ours.”
An impulse sidled up to Noo and she rode it. “Besides, we know some things you don’t.”
Toiwa fixed her with a glare that probably caused probationary constables to wither in place like they’d been hit with a flamethrower, but Noo stood her ground. At last she waved Valverdes off. “It’s all right, Kala. Sergeant Imoke has a made the case on M. Okereke’s behalf. And I’m curious to see what she’s gleaned that our people haven’t.” She turned again to Noo, her face solemn. “If I read you in on this, well, it’s a Secrets Act issue. Breach that and I’ll hand you over to the Directorate so fast your clothes will scorch. Do you still want in?”
Noo hesitated for a few seconds. The Secrets Act? Penalties for violating that included lifetime imprisonment on a wind-blasted island in the far northern hemisphere the Army used as a winter training base. Hot intel of some kind, has to be. What the hell is going on? But the rewards seemed worth the risks. “I do,” she said.
“All right. The Directorate has learned via a tip from the Commonwealth, and I have no idea where they got their information, that a potential suspect took a shuttle down to the planet shortly after the killing. We’re sending a joint team down in a few hours.”
“I want in.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d consciously finished processing Toiwa’s speech. The need to be on the trail of the killer burned, deep inside. “I’ll want my partner, M. Tahir, along too.”
Toiwa nodded, even as she frowned like she was sucking a lemon. “All right. In exchange, I’ll want whatever information you’ve gathered today. Give that to Inspector Valverdes or Sergeant Imoke and we’ll get you on the manifest.”
“Agreed.” Noo stuck out her hand and they shook on it.
At that moment every djinn in the room immediately flashed red, and priority message alerts screamed in Noo’s ears. “Shit!” She waved it open. The messages were coded at the highest priority, reserved for major emergencies. A hull breach? Catastrophic collision?
She read the message. It was both better and worse.
Arrival
FLASH FLASH FLASH AT 205051 NEW ABUJA
TIME AN UNSCHEDULED STARSHIP EMERGENCE FROM ALCUBIERRE DRIVE WAS DETECTED INSIDE THE EXCLUSION ZONE. SYSTEM DEFENSE UNITS ARE RESPONDING. ALL SYSTEMS TO CONDITION RED ZED THREE.
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FLASH FLASH FLASH 205126 NEW ABUJA
TIME ENERGY PROFILE OF NEWLY ARRIVED STARSHIP CONSISTENT WITH MILITARY VESSEL.
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FLASH FLASH FLASH 205147 VESSEL
TENTATIVELY CLASSIFIED AS STAR REPUBLIC OF SALJU ‘HAKIM’ CLASS SPACE DOMINANCE VEHICLE. NO SALJUAN MILITARY VESSEL SCHEDULED TO ARRIVE. EXCLUSION ZONE DEFENSE SYSTEMS HOLDING AT CONDITION RED ZED THREE.
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FLASH FLASH FLASH 205418 EMERGING STARSHIP IDENTIFIED AS STAR REPUBLIC OF SALJU SPACE DOMINANCE VEHICLE IWAN GOLESLAW. COMMANDER HAS INVOKED RIGHTS OF VISITATION UNDER ACCORDS OF 83 PE. SDV IWAN GOLESLAW IS NOW BURNING AT ONE-POINT-TWO GRAVITIES FOR HIGH PLANETARY ORBIT ASSIGNED BY ILERI OTC. STAND DOWN FROM CONDITION RED ZED THREE TO RED ZED ONE.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Andini
Combat Information Center, Star Republic of Salju Space Dominance Vehicle Iwan Goleslaw, Ileri Orbit
“Eyes just uploaded their new assessment of the Ileri exclusion-zone defense systems, Captain.”
Captain Nia Andini, commander of the SDV Iwan Goleslaw, looked up—which only had meaning as her vessel was under thrust—from the AR window from which she’d been reviewing the post-transition engineering status report. “And just how dead would we have been, XO?”
“They’ve identified two of their three railgun installations so far, one of which was only twenty-four thousand klicks from our emergence point, so very dead.” Andini winced and the XO nodded. “They had us painted within thirty-five seconds and the gun was aimed only twelve degrees off our trajectory when we popped back into normal space. It was on target and ready to fire in under a minute. We’re lucky they aren’t as trigger-happy as Shenzen.”
She cocked her head at her XO. “I assume they’re not pointing it at us still?”
“No, but they’ve got two targeting radars on us at all times. And one squadron of heavies is burning to shadow our assigned orbit, unless I miss my guess.”
“I expect you’re right.” She unbuckled her lap belt and stood to stretch, which barely brought her head to her XO’s shoulder, even though he was short for spacer-born. Andini had flown attackers before switching to the command track. That she’d been able to take up gymnastics again and put some muscle back on after making the switch back had been a welcome change; every gram counted in those flying coffins.
“Keeping us painted is a rather aggressive step,” the XO said.
“I warned the minister that emerging in their EZ was unnecessarily provocative.” She rolled out her shoulders as she turned slowly, observing her combat information-center crew at work. The ship was at Condition Two, one step shy of full battle-readiness but fully able to defend itself, if not bare the full length of its claws. The CIC crew wore their soft suits at their stations, arrayed in front of her command dais like an orchestra’s musicians before the conductor, though they all faced the giant display tank across the compartment instead of her on the dais. Crew murmured softly to each other, or to their comrades elsewhere on the ship. Andini had served with captains who kept their CICs dark, lit only by the glow of the fixed screens and open AR windows, but she favored light bright enough to read by. Darkness on a spacefaring vessel meant something had gone wrong, and things that went wrong in space could kill you with incredible swiftness.
“And speaking of the minister...” the XO said, just above a whisper, as the one person Andini had to answer to—here in Ileri space, at any rate—climbed the steps into the CIC.
Ping Dinata, Minister Plenipotentiary for Technology Constraint, filled the picture in Andini’s mental dictionary for the word ‘dour’. She was medium height with broad shoulders and hips, neither skinny nor fat, with light-brown skin and long, straight hair she wore in the traditional ministerial side-braid. Andini wondered if the woman’s face was capable of smiling, then wondered how she’d react if the minister ever cracked one.
She checked her clock. “Conference time, number one. Tell Ears we’ll take the call from the dais.”
The XO acknowledged and hurried off to be Somewhere Else before Dinata reached the command dais steps.
“Good day, Captain,” the minister said as she pulled herself up onto the dais. “Shall we shift to your briefing room to deliver our message to the Ileris?”
Andini shook her head. “I’ve instructed my communications team to route the message to us here on the command dais.”
Dinata’s brows drew down. “That seems unwise, given the sensitivity of the matters we’re here to deal with.”
“The crew has been fully briefed on our mission, including the contingency plans,” Andini said as she waved the spare acceleration chair out from its normal stowage compartment. “I have complete confidence in their willingness to take whatever action is deemed appropriate.” She settled herself into her own chair and gestured for the minister to do the same. “And in the event the Iwan Goleslaw needs to go to Condition One in the course of our—discussion—I’d prefer to be in my CIC.”
Dinata tried to brush off the implied risk of violent action. “Surely the Ileris wouldn’t dare fire on us.
No one has ever dared fire on one of our SDVs before. That’s why the Assembly chose to send this vessel.”
“Ileri is one of the First Fourteen, Minister, with the military to match,” Andini said. She related what the XO had passed on about their emergence. “My ship may mass as much as a sizable fraction of Ileri’s navy, and we’d blood them badly if it came to a fight, but please do not doubt which side would win.”
“Do you really think they’d risk starting a war?” Dinata asked. But she sat down in the spare seat, usually reserved for squadron commanders using the ship as their flag.
“Is it likely? No. Possible? Absolutely,” Andini said. She opened a channel to her communications officer.