by Alex Kings
Olivia sighed and looked down at the box. “I'll get over it,” she said.
“You will,” said Eloise. It was a statement of fact more than a reassurance. “I don't have any advice except to say, you're not alone.”
Olivia nodded. She wanted to move on. She sat down at the table opposite Eloise. “Maybe this is a rude question, but, um, are you are Rurthk … you know …”
“Together?”
“Yeah.”
Eloise laughed. “No,” she said. “I don't do the interspecies thing. We do get asked that quite often, though.” She swished her wine glass and took a sip. “I guess you could say we're best friends, but that doesn't quite cover it either. We met when we both had nothing. And I guess we sort of built on that … we did a bit of theft and smuggling, then we bought the Outsider.” Eloise shrugged. “Which brings us to today.”
“You bought it together?”
“Yes. We're co-owners. I let Rurthk be the Captain because it suits him better. But in the end, it's just, on this little ship.”
“So … the Outsider really is home to you.”
“Best home I ever had,” said Eloise.
Chapter 43: Gunnerside
The Outsider burst from a wormhole near the asteroid belt of Gunnerside. Behind it, the wormhole closed with a ripple of stars, leaving flat space behind.
Gunnerside was a white dwarf, a tiny star only slightly larger than a rocky planet, but as heavy as the sun, made of the standard one-litre-weighs-a-thousand-tonnes stuff teachers sometimes try and impress students with.
It had no planets – just a ring of asteroids that had stubbornly refused to coalesce at any point during its billion-year history. Galactic civilisation used it as a mine and a pit stop.
Bundles of cables thousands of kilometres long and lined with solar panels orbited the star, using its own energy to magnetically stir the interior until flares burst from its surface. The flares threw into space tonnes of heavy elements that could be found in no other type of star.
The original setup had been built by the Tethyans when all the other races were still busy building pyramids and going to war over how best to interpret weather patterns. But they had eventually abandoned it, and later the Albascene, and then the Varanids had taken up the system.
The hoop of a rotating space station glided in a distant orbit. It began as a stop for cargo ships, then became a pit stop for all vessels that happened to be passing through.
The Outsider's sublight engines flared into life, and it accelerated towards the station.
Inside the cockpit, Rurthk nodded, satisfied. “Good work,” he said.
“You're damned right it's good work,” Mero said. “Me and Kaivon had to push the engines at full capacity to make this trip in time.”
Rurthk turned to another screen and checked the time. They were running on stolen time – time Sukone would expect them to be heading for the rendezvous point. They had, by Rurthk's estimates, a little over three hours at Gunnerside before they had to get moving again.
Beside him, Eloise spoke into the comms: “We'd like a berth … Three hours … Just a quick top-up of volatiles … Okay, thank you.” She cut the channel and turned to Rurthk. “We're in. A couple of hundred credits.” She tapped at a screen to transfer the payment. That was the last of their money.
“I'm getting the berth instructions now,” said Mero.
“Take us in,” Rurthk said.
Eloise looked out at the giant hoop as they approached. The star was a burning white speck in the distance. “Our second heist in as many days. Let's hope this goes better than the last one.”
*
The courier's name, according to the information brokers, was Gaston Emine. He was human. And he was travelling without a ship of his own. He had come to Gunnerside on a liner, and was due to be picked up in a few hours by a Sweetblade ship.
“And,” Rurthk told his crew in the observation lounge, “he absolutely, positively, can not know we stole from him. Even if he figures it out after the fact. If he knows, he'll tell Sukone, and then we are … what's that human phrase? Something about sewer canoes?”
“Up shit creek without a paddle,” Eloise said.
“Yes, that.”
“And how do we know the passcode will be so easy to find?” said Mero.
“I don't,” said Rurthk. “But the economics of the situation suggest it. By itself, the passcode is worthless. Any third-party thief would need to steal the hard drives from us and the passcode from the courier. The only other group with something to gain is us, and Sukone is banking on the fact that we know nothing about this side of the operation.”
“That and his promise to kill us if we put our hands in the till,” said Eloise.
“On the other hand,” Rurthk went on, “the cost of getting the passcode wrong is very high. One mistake and the hard drives delete their content. So it doesn't matter too much if someone learns it, but it matters a lot if you lose it or get it wrong. What would you do in that situation?”
“Make multiple copies,” said Mero. “Just in case.”
“Exactly,” said Rurthk. “Everyone know their places?”
They all nodded apart from Kaivon, who settled for saying, “Yes, Captain.”
“Good.”
Rurthk led the entire crew out of the observation lounge and through the cargo bay. After leaving the berth, they emerged into the open air – or an approximation of it. The curved ceiling of the hoop glowed a pale blue and had faint wisps of clouds beneath it. To left and right the floor curved upwards, showing a map of small parks and recreation areas dotted with apartments and hotels and shops, before vanishing behind the ceiling.
“Let's go,” said Rurthk.
Chapter 44: The Courier
Gaston Emine, the courier, sat in his hotel room, looking out the window. The hotel was set directly against the station's wall, and he had a space-side apartment, so his window looked out on the stars as they wheeled past. He could see banks of ships docked at the outer edge of the station.
The view from these rotating stations always made him dizzy. He gestured at the window. It turned into a mirror. He gestured at it again with frustration. This time it became a soothing shade of white, like the rest of the walls in his room.
He was a middle-aged man with thinning hair, a paunch, and a somewhat hangdog expression that never seemed to leave his face, even when he was smiling. This slightly-crushed-by-life look made him an ideal courier for Sweetblade, because he could escape from people's notice and fade quickly from their memories.
He took to pacing the room. Several hours before Sweetblade arrived. He felt like he was trapped here. After a minute or so, he went to the closet, opened it, and reached into a little hidden space behind the door. He pulled out a small black jewellery box and opened it. A tiny transparent cube sat in the middle of the velvet. Satisfied it was there, he put it back. Then he grabbed his coat, put it on, and pulled a similar box from an inside pocket. He checked this too and put it back.
He hit a switch by his bed. Its smart matter skeleton contracted, and the bed folded like an accordion into a recess in the wall. Then he went for the door.
He needed to go out for a drink. Anywhere so he wasn't trapped in this tiny little room where he could feel himself whirling through the void.
He went into the corridor, shut the door gently so as not to disturb anyone else, then took out his keycard and held it to the lock for a second. There was a click and the door closed.
He slipped the keycard into his pocket then headed towards the stairs. He always took the stairs – it was one of his half-hearted attempts to look after his health.
A slightly ratty-looking Petaur came scrambling around a corner and down the corridor, muttering to himself like he was in a hurry.
Bewildered, Emine stepped back, but somehow the Petaur managed to brush against him anyway. Shaking his head, thinking things about rudeness he would never say, Emine started for the stairs again. Then he ca
me to a halt. He'd been so occupied with the key crystals that he'd forgotten his wallet. “Oh. Oh, damnit,” he said, turning back.
His hand went to his pocket.
The Petaur suddenly came bounding back the corridor. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Emine frowned. “What?”
The Petaur's ears swivelled back and forth. “Good hearing,” he explained. “You sounded upset.” Somehow he managed to brush past Emine again.
“Oh, no. I'm fine. Just forgot something,” said Emine. He took out his keycard.
The Petaur seemed to relax. “Oh, okay. Well, uh … Goodbye” A moment of awkwardness hung between them. Then the Petaur turned and scrambled off down the corridor again.
Shaking his head, Emine opened his room and took his wallet off the dresser. He checked the box was still inside his coat, put the wallet in another pocket, then headed for the stairs.
*
“The stupid bastard left something in his room,” Mero growled into his comms, walking down the corridor. “I just about managed to get the keycard back in his pocket. No, you'll have to do it. I can't go back. Bumping into him three times will arouse his suspicions. He's gone for the stairs, it's in his right pocket.”
“Understood,” said a calm voice on the other end.
*
After the second flight of stairs, Emine was slightly out of breath. He saw an Albascene floating on a cushion of effector fields by the railing. It looked slightly scruffier than other Albascene. He realised after a moment that its suit was heavily patched.
“Excuse me,” it said.
Emine was glad for the opportunity to pause, “What?”
“I rarely see humans using these. I thought they were for Albascene and Tethyans. With effector fields we do not need to exert ourselves.”
Unbeknownst to Emine, one of the Albascene's effector fields snaked out along the ground, rose up behind him, and moved for his pocket.
“They're a human invention,” said Emine, moving to lean against the railing.
The effector field snapped back, avoiding him, then inched forward into his pocket.
“I see. But why do you do it?”
The effector field emerged from his pocket, carrying the keycard.
“Good for the heart,” said Emine. He turned back to the stairs.
The effector field danced out of the way, briefly coiling around Emine to keep the floating keycard behind his back. It vanished briefly, allowing the keycard to fall. Then a shorter ribbon of effector field, not wrapped around Emine, appeared beneath the keycard and caught it.
“I apologise for the interruption,” said the Albascene.
“Not at all,” said Emine. He started down the final flight of stairs.
*
Kaivon slotted the card into his suit, where a reader began skimming data off its chip. He activated his comms.
“I have the card. The process should be finished in the next two minutes.”
“Excellent,” said Eloise. “I see him now.”
“I'm on the second floor in the stairwell,” said Kaivon.
“On my way,” said Olivia.
She came bounding out of the lift before Kaivon was finished, and paced back and forth across the corridor by the stairwell while she waited. She was all but fizzing with nervous energy.
“You should not act like that when you return the card,” said Kaivon.
“I know, I know. I'm just getting it out while I can,” she said.
“That is a more sensible strategy,” said Kaivon. “Sometimes I wonder how the other species manage, having to constantly manage their body language like that when they need to deceive others.”
Olivia smiled at him. “Sometimes I wonder how the Albascene manage, spending all their lives locked away from one another in their suits.”
“I have never known anything different,” said Kaivon. “I do sometimes wonder … but this is the price we pay for individuality. Without suits to separate, our components would intermingle with those of other individuals, and our sense of self would simply dissolve.”
Olivia stared at him, eyebrows lifted. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes,” said Kaivon. “Our suits were our first invention, as important for us as fire was for humanity. They were made from woven reeds and seaweed... They allowed our components to stay together and form coherent individuals.”
“Huh,” said Olivia.
“I am finished,” said Kaivon, both out loud and through the comms. The keycard emerged from its slot and floated on a ribbon of effector fields into Olivia's outstretched hand.
“Thanks,” she said, heading for the lift. Kaivon heard her over the comms as the doors closed, speaking to Eloise: “I'll be there in a minute.”
Effector fields like tentacles emerged from Kaivon's suit, reaching up and grabbing the banisters of the stairs. He hauled himself vertically up through the stairwell, between the flights of stairs, until he reached Emine's floor.
Chapter 45: Not Intruding
Emine stood at the bottom floor of the hotel for a moment. With check-in fully automated, the space was given to an open-plan bar and restaurant. Tables were arranged across a dark red floor, alongside chairs and ceilings pipes or cushions suitable for all species. It ended on one side with a giant sapphiroid window which looked out onto space covering the entire wall. The other side had no wall at all, and just looked out onto the space station's interior, where a smattering of trees sat beside a lake.
He turned away from the space window immediately, then headed for the bar. Behind it, an Albascene was serving three customers at once with a tangle of effector fields. Emine sat on the stool and waved at the bartender, but he couldn't tell if it had noticed him..
A blonde woman with a violet dress and an orchid in her hair caught his eye and waved at him. She came strolling over, smiling, and sat on the stool next to him.
“Hello,” she said. “I'm not intruding, am I?”
“Oh,” said Emine. “No, not at all.”
The bartender glided over to them. “May I take your order?”
“Cognac,” Emine told it, then turned back to the woman. “Can I get you anything?”
She smiled again. “Thank you. I'll have the same.”
“Cognac, two glasses. Understood,” said the bartender. More effector fields snaked out from its suit as it moved to take another order.
“I'm Alice, by the way,” said the woman, offering a hand. Violet polish glittered on the nails.
Emine's talents lent themselves to being a courier and not an operative. He was not blessed with much in the way of combat or situational awareness skills, and he was fine with that. But even so, being approached like that aroused his suspicions. He decided to play along and pay attention, and not commit himself to anything. And he decided to give himself a fake name. “John,” he said.
“And what brings you here?” the woman asked.
Emine gave her his cover story about business conferences on interstellar administrative policy. It was designed to be as boring as he himself appeared. “And what about you?”
Before she could answer, a young woman appeared beside them. She had shortish black hair, showing brown roots and stood out only by virtue of looking less remarkable than her friend. “I'm just going out for a walk around the station,” she said, her hand on the blonde's shoulder.
“Okay, take care,” the blonde said. She watched her friend walk out of the bar, then turned back to Emine. “We're on holiday,” she said. “Travelling by short-hop liner from Tethya to Ghroga. Anyway, we were thinking of visiting the star mining facilities …”
*
In the corridor outside Emine's room, Mero held slips of transparent smart matter saved from their time in Egliante's mansion. He came in out of sight of the cameras, and carefully placed the squares over them.
“Done,” he said.
Rurthk stepped around the corner and joined him in front of Emine's door.
A moment later K
aivon came gliding down the corridor. He stopped in front of the door, and extended a dense, almost opaque effector field to the lock. After a moment, there was a click.
Rurthk opened the door. “Good job,” he told Kaivon.
“I shall be here if you need me,” said Kaivon.
He retreated down the corridor, and Rurthk and Mero stepped into Emine's room.
Rurthk closed the door carefully behind them. “Remember, don't make a mess,” he said. “The courier can't suspect we were ever here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I know,” said Mero.
“Check the dresser. I'll go through the drawers.”
They moved as quickly and quietly as they could. Rurthk investigated every corner of the drawers, checked the folds and pockets of the few clothes that were inside, and looked for secret compartments.
He hit a switch by the wall, and the bed unfolded from its recess. He peered behind it to see if there was anything there. Nothing.
“Got it!” said Mero a moment later, emerging from the closet. He held up a jewellery box, its lid flipped open to reveal a tiny cube of what looked like glass.
“That's the key?” Rurthk asked.
“'I'm guessing so. Unless this is some weird human thing I've never heard about before.”
Rurthk peered at the glass cube. “Damnit,” he muttered.
“What?”
“I know this,” said Rurthk.
“And?” said Mero.
“This is the highest level of security you can get. Nothing like those pissing little keycards,” said Rurthk. “The cube is made of diamond. In the middle there's a cavity. When you shine a laser through it, patterns on the walls of the cavity create a special output which can be read and used as a key.”
“And what's so special about that?”
“It's quantum,” said Rurthk, taking the box and snapping it shut. “You can copy it by reading the output, but only with a supercomputer and a lab full of equipment.” He growled. “That's why they're using a courier instead of just ripping the information and transmitting it over bulkwave.”