Inside Out

by Thorne Moore

  He emerged, towelling himself dry. ‘No, it doesn’t help. But I really need to thrash someone and, with this shoulder out of action, self-flagellation is problematic, so you’ll have to do instead.’

  ‘If it keeps you sane.’ She opened the closet to rummage for clean clothes, stopped, looking at the photograph pinned to the inside of the door. A young man, tall, disreputable looking, pleased with himself and with life; a child, shrieking with delight in her father’s arms. Yasmin pulled out linen and overalls, handing them to him as his gaze followed hers and, gently, he shut the door.

  ‘Memory is such an egotistical thing,’ she said. ‘These last months, I’ve been remembering our meeting eighteen years ago. Quite vividly, once it all slipped into place. I can remember what we talked about, things you said. I remember your evil jokes; I remember mildly flirting. But I’d forgotten your wife.’

  ‘Ex-wife.’

  ‘And your daughter. Elly. Heloise.’

  ‘Lucky you.’ He began to dress.

  ‘I suppose your marriage broke up after your wife sold you out to Pascal.’

  ‘Broke up? Yes, that’s one way of putting it. Shattered. Imploded.’

  ‘And she took your daughter.’

  He was refusing, stubbornly, to show any emotion. ‘I was unemployed and homeless; she was the head of a major Ragnox project. Who do you think got custody?’

  ‘She moved out to Ganymede. That’s why you had to work your passage.’

  ‘Are you asking, or telling me? I have a fair idea of my own life story.’

  ‘Not asking, or telling, I’m just joining the dots.’

  ‘Then, yes, they went to Ganymede. The project was supposed be based there. Elly was distressed at leaving me, so I promised her I’d get out there too. When the project was moved out to S2, we agreed that Elly should stay on Ganymede. The Outer Circles are no place for a child. She was seven, she had her school, her friends, her aunt. And she had me, when I wasn’t Out playing pirates, as a means of earning a living. Elly thoroughly approved of piracy. Gave me this bandana and an eye patch.’ He examined his scarf. Spattered. He put it aside. ‘I mislaid the patch. I was commissioned to bring home treasures for her. She wanted a necklace of unicorn horn; I got her a string of pearls, from a lady who should have known better. Then she wanted a golden compass. I found an antique astrolabe, which was far more appropriate. I brought it home for her and…’ He was easing the sleeve over his sodden bandage. Then he thrust his wounded arm in quickly, inviting the pain. ‘And I found Susannah had arranged for Elly to be shipped out to join her.’

  He was looking around, searching. Yasmin handed him his cigarettes. ‘Your daughter was on the Mayflower, the Lynx destroyed by the Vlad and the Tarquin.’

  ‘Ten out of ten for completing the picture, Miss Gwynne. Go to the top of the class.’

  His hand was shaking. She took the lighter from him and lit his cigarette, before helping herself to one. ‘These things will kill you.’

  In reply, he inhaled.

  ‘But not yet,’ she said. ‘Not until you get the Tarquin too.’

  Tod smiled. ‘It’s always good to have a goal in life. That was why we first took on the Triton run. They’re Triton carriers; there was a chance we’d run into them. We never got quite close enough. Until now.’

  ‘They knew you were hunting them?’

  He laughed, then winced in pain. ‘After fourteen years? Of course they knew. And they’ve returned the compliment. The Caron brothers had the advantage of hunting as a pair and having no qualms about obliterating anything in their way. We have the advantage of being technologically better equipped, better defended, better informed. Tucker’s work mostly. He’s virtually rebuilt her.’

  ‘Was this ship really called – what was it – the Hamburg Lugger?’

  ‘The Parnassus.’

  ‘And now she’s the Heloise.’

  ‘So she is.’ Tod drew again on his cigarette, then studied its glowing tip. ‘Delightful as this discussion of dead children has been, I really must get on. I’ve only managed to kill one so far today. Let’s see if I can up my score.’

  ‘You didn’t kill Tim. David killed him. The people who reduced David to that state killed him. I killed him, for not speaking out sooner about the drug you were giving David.’

  ‘Good. Fine. We’re all murderers. But I’ll save my breast-beating for when I meet his parents again.’ He picked up the seeping bag of clothes. ‘I need to check on Tucker. Deal with this, will you?’

  He left her with it and headed for the infirmary.

  Merrit was hunched in the chair, defensive and morose, next to his inert patient.

  ‘Any change?’ Tod stooped to look closer.

  ‘No. Listen.’ Merrit got to his feet, with a weight of arguments he had obviously been working through. ‘I can’t help him, honest. He needs surgery and I can’t do that. If you think I can pull some—’

  ‘Enough,’ said Tod, looking down at the patient. ‘Make him as comfortable as you can and report any change. I’ll handle the rest.’

  ‘But if he dies—’

  ‘If he dies, it’s my responsibility.’

  Merrit looked marginally reassured.

  In Flight Control, Clytemnestra was handing round yet more coffee. She poured out a mug for Tod before taking her place at the scanner, where Addo had put her. Smith was at the Ultima, looking better now that he was occupied.

  ‘Anything?’ asked Tod.

  ‘All quiet,’ said Addo. ‘Selden’s just reported. They’ve finished the repairs and they’re repositioning the lateral now. Another fifteen minutes or so and she should be back in action.’

  ‘Do they need help?’

  ‘Selden said not. I offered to send someone down, but he said he’d manage easier without another novice to nurse.’

  Tod checked the engineering console. ‘He knows what he’s doing. All right.’ He took a deep breath and turned back to Addo. ‘I’ve been prevaricating. Bad practice.’

  ‘Tucker, you mean?’

  ‘He won’t survive without surgery, and I’m not going to sit around, waiting for him to die, in order to save me the trouble of deciding. No more messing. I’m putting out an MEC.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘No arguing?’

  ‘No,’ said Addo. ‘Just do it.’

  Chapter 24

  In the monitor office on D-Deck, Selden and Abigail watched the readings as the lateral, safely back on her anchors, came back online. Addo was trying some gentle manoeuvres, just to test her.

  ‘No problems,’ said Selden. ‘As long as he doesn’t have to try anything violent, she should hold. Enough to change course if he takes his time.’

  Abigail heaved a sigh of relief. Even though Selden had done most of the heavy work, she ached in every joint from exertions quite different to those she practised in the gym, but the satisfaction of seeing their work finished and functioning was enough to brush every ache aside.

  Selden turned and managed a grim smile. ‘Grease. Down your cheek.’

  She looked at her blurred reflection in a steel panel and lifted bruised fingers to wipe her face clean. It was in her hair too. She felt sweaty and begrimed from head to toe. Her frantic manicure in Flight Control had come to nothing; all her nails were broken. Oddly enough, she didn’t care.

  Selden handed her a cloth. ‘You want a drink?’

  ‘NDP coffee?’

  ‘Hot and wet.’ He fetched two cups from the dispenser in the D-Deck mess.

  They were sitting sprawled, side by side, drinking the tasteless liquid when Tod appeared. He checked the monitors.

  ‘You did a good job. Both of you.’

  Selden shrugged. ‘It’ll do if you don’t try anything fancy. Are you planning to?’

  ‘We may have no choice. Tucker needs urgent medical assistance. I can’t delay it. I’ve set a medical emergency call.’

  Selden pursed his lips. ‘Anything yet?’

  ‘We’re picki
ng up some interest.’

  ‘Yes, you would.’

  ‘You appreciate, any distress signal, even a medical one, is going to bring the vultures down on us. If any ship responds, it’s more than likely that it will just be looking for easy pickings.’

  ‘So we need to be ready to defend ourselves.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tod smiled. ‘We’re on the watch for any movement. With luck, we’ll be on the ball, so we won’t have to try anything sudden. And who knows, the first ship to reach us may be a fully equipped hospital ship.’

  ‘Oh sure.’

  ‘What do you want us to do?’ asked Abigail, uncertain from their casual tone just how serious their situation was. There was no point in asking.

  ‘You’ve done what’s needed,’ said Tod. He sounded almost kind, which increased her alarm. ‘You can both go back up to B-Deck, clean up, get some sleep.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘I’ll stay,’ said Selden.

  Abigail hesitated, confused.

  ‘You go on up,’ he added. ‘No point both of us staying.’

  ‘Why must you?

  Selden shrugged. ‘If things start happening, they’ll need someone down here, do what’s necessary, deal with any damage. And if they’re already picking up interest, things could start happening any time. Better have someone standing by.’

  Abigail glanced at Tod. He said nothing. ‘I’ll stay too,’ she declared.

  ‘No need for heroics,’ said Tod.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of heroics,’ retorted Abigail. ‘Would I be any use up there?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘I might be, down here.’ She caught their shared smiles and flamed in response. ‘I refuse to sit still, being helpless!’

  ‘All right.’ Tod held up a hand. ‘Your choice. We could be in for a long wait. Make yourselves comfortable down here. There are bunks, the NDP, clean overalls, showers. Tucker didn’t have much use for shampoo, and I don’t think Mich knew what it was. Why don’t you fetch what you need from your cabin?’

  It was a reasonable suggestion, but she couldn’t help reading it as some sort of test. She shook her head. ‘I’ll manage.’

  Tod nodded. He produced a paper from his pocket. ‘If you want to pass the time usefully, have a look through this, see how it compares with Tucker’s checks. It’s the chart David made of our damage.’

  Selden pocketed it.

  ‘Keep the communications open.’ Tod left them to it.

  Abigail looked defiantly at Selden.

  His lips twitched. ‘We might as well make ourselves at home. Something to eat?’

  ‘First, a shower,’ said Abigail. ‘With or without shampoo.’

  ‘Anything new?’ asked Tod.

  Addo waved a hand in Smith’s direction. ‘Ask the wizard.’

  Smith was drumming his fingers on the Ultima. ‘Seven ships registered an interest. And the good news is, none of them is called Tarquin.’

  ‘Interest from any ship is never good news.’ Tod scowled. ‘You’ll find out why, soon enough.’

  ‘You were the one who set the distress signal,’ said Yasmin.

  ‘Thank you.’ He gave a small growl and turned back to Smith. ‘I presume you’ve got more than a mere tally.’

  ‘Of course.’ Smith grinned. ‘Seven were showing interest, but four contented themselves with a quick sniff and dropped us.’

  Tod grimaced. ‘Probably didn’t rate their chances against the competition. Who’s still sniffing?’

  Smith perused his screen, massaging his fingers thoughtfully. ‘Closest – the ISF Sally Rose. She’s been in direct contact; says she has a medical unit and she’s prepared to divert and offer assistance.’

  Tod laughed.

  ‘The major thinks she’s being economical with the truth,’ added Smith.

  ‘I don’t think. I know,’ said Addo.

  Tod agreed. ‘ISF with a medical unit? Independents never have medical facilities any better than ours. We’ll just have to let her see, discreetly, that we’re not incapacitated.’

  ‘Even if we are,’ said Yasmin. ‘Selden’s patched us up, that’s all. What happens if we get into a major confrontation?’

  ‘We bluff,’ said Tod. ‘If that fails, we could try surrendering and hope they’re feeling generous. But if Smith can log on to anything that comes near, we might be able to read their intentions and do all our manoeuvring before they get to us. Meet them head on. What else have you got besides the Sally Rose?’

  ‘Two others. The furthest is way out, but she’s sent a standard response and she’s moving seriously fast. She’s got impressive blocks against prying eyes. I’m worming my way in, though. AMA 4979-632.’

  ‘AMA is Astromarina. She’ll be in the directory.’ Tod sat down at another console. ‘AMA 4979...’

  ‘632.’

  ‘Astromarina. Marina VI. Class A. A superbitch. Hm.’

  ‘Which is good, isn’t it?’ suggested Yasmin. ‘She’s more likely to have proper medical facilities?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tod sat back. ‘But less likely to put herself out to offer assistance. Unless...’

  ‘We did relocate a very valuable cargo from Astromarina, last time Out,’ said Addo, yawning. ‘Do you suppose they hold it against us?’

  Tod snorted. ‘People can be so petty. I’ll just have to hone my negotiating skills. What’s our third option? The middle one.’

  ‘IO,’ read Smith, shaking his head. ‘That’s all I’ve got. A standard acknowledgement of the distress signal and she’s turned this way, but I haven’t been able to latch onto her network at all. Yet! I don’t get it. She’s not blocking us, she’s just unintelligible.’

  ‘IO is Pan,’ said Tod. ‘Does our scanner recognise her?’

  Addo studied his readings. ‘Yes, I think so. IO Panache?’

  ‘We’ve met her before. Don’t waste your time trying to infiltrate her, Jo Jo. Pan doesn’t use VTP, they have their own system. The Ultima can’t read her, so don’t try.’

  ‘No kidding!’ Smith sat back, staring at the Ultima, his brain visibly whirring at the challenge.

  Tod laughed. ‘When you’ve got six months to spare, you can study her transmissions and see if you can decode them. If you do manage to penetrate Pan’s system, you’ll be a made man. But right now, let’s concentrate on the task in hand. The Sally Rose is going to be on us first. Turn its networks inside out and keep us on top of every little thing it’s doing. How long will it take any of them to get here?’

  Addo looked up with a start. ‘How long?’

  ‘The Sally Rose should be here in 19 hours and 43 minutes,’ said Clytemnestra. ‘The Panache will be in 33 hours and 12 minutes, and the Marina IV will take 45 hours and 50 minutes.’

  Tod, like the others, turned to look at her in astonishment as she sat calmly at the scanner, reading out the calculations. ‘Thank you, Nessy. Not just a pretty tiger skin. All right, Major, you were asleep.’

  ‘I was deep in thought. Pop me another Zap and I’ll be fine.’

  ‘No more pills. Go to bed. I’ll manage here.’

  ‘You’re no better off than me.’

  ‘I’m not as essential as you. I can mind things while we drift along. Get some sleep and be ready for when the action starts.’

  Addo didn’t argue further. He stood up, yawning again. ‘I’ve set a periodic shift, within our present capabilities. Let her go, unless you really have to intervene, and we should be okay. I’ll look in on Siegfried, see if he’s come round yet. Not that our passengers can’t do his job just as well.’ He eyed the tiger skin appreciatively. ‘And more scenic into the bargain.’ He stretched as he strolled from Flight Control.

  Tod dropped into the command seat, placed his good hand behind his head and swivelled his chair round to survey the disposition of his troops. ‘Well, team. How do things stand? Clytemnestra, you know what you’re doing there?’

  ‘Major Addo instructed me,’ replied Clytemnestra. She had been shown how to
use the scanner, how to read the signals, how to enter the basic commands. The whys and wherefores remained a mystery and the significance of the output was for others to interpret, but she’d mastered the task in hand.

  ‘It’s just a question of manipulative technique,’ said Smith. ‘And that’s Nessy’s speciality. Believe me, I know.’

  ‘Shut up!’ said Yasmin.

  Clytemnestra turned to look at Smith, with an unexpected gleam of dignity. ‘You think you know all about me. You don’t. Nobody does.’

  ‘Clytemnestra, I apologise,’ said Smith magnificently. ‘I behaved like a bounder and a cad. Tell me I am forgiven.’

  ‘No. I don’t like you. You think it’s clever to sneer at everyone. Well, you can stop sneering at me. I’m doing this because I choose to. I don’t have to. I could leave you all to stew, and I will if you don’t leave me alone.’

  Smith looked very briefly shame-faced, then he caught Yasmin’s eye. ‘Maybe I’ll take your advice and shut up.’

  ‘Just watch the Ultima,’ said Tod.

  Selden was studying a sheet of paper as Abigail returned, still damp, from the shower. With the grime gone, a bruise on her forearm was obvious. He looked up. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  He looked again. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She swallowed. ‘The shower. It’s clean. Really clean. Smells as if it’s been scrubbed with disinfectant. It took me a while before I realised why.’

  He nodded. ‘Tod must have cleaned it. He’s cleaned up everything else. I checked.’

  ‘Yes.’ She pushed the damp hair from her eyes. If only it was that easy to wash away what had happened. ‘What are you looking at?’

  Selden held up the paper. ‘What do you reckon? Art or science?’

  Abigail stared at it. The paper, at first sight, was a dark blur of intricate lines and cramped notes, as if a child had diligently scribbled all over it. She took it and studied it, intrigued and disturbed by the distorted perception that had produced it. It was a three-dimensional image of D-Deck, drawn not with perspective but by superimposing layer upon layer upon layer, with nothing concealed, nothing left out. ‘This is David’s?’