“You going to be all right here?” Ryan asked Sid. Among wild, chair-tipping jets.
“Yeah,” Sid said, with a grin. He could hold his own, apparently, and these jets seemed to respect that.
Ryan was learning.
Musey put the gun in his hand and raised it to aim at the standing holotarget in front of them, across the firing range about ten meters away. The symp’s eyes passed critically over Ryan’s stance before he shifted Ryan’s shoulders, lifted his elbow, and made sure his grip was secure.
“This feels weird,” Ryan said. But kind of familiar. Like the games he’d played in Austro’s cybetoriums, except this gun was a real weight, even though it was a training weapon. It felt, Musey said, just like the real ones.
“It’s your first time,” Musey said. “Now line up the laser sight and fire.”
He did that. The target registered a glancing blow on the left arm.
“Try not to flinch,” Musey said.
Easier said than done, holding something that could—if it were real—kill a man.
“And relax,” the symp added.
The second shot missed completely. “Shit”
“Straighten your shoulders,” Musey said.
He remembered asking Sid to show him how to fire the bodyguard sidearm. Sid never had and now Ryan knew why. After a few more shots it started to be fun.
It was like a violent sort of etiquette class. There was a proper way to stand, hold the weapon, aim, breathe. All the things you had to pay attention to before it became second nature. Ryan popped off a couple more shots, one of which hit the target’s crotch. He turned to Musey with a proud grin.
“That’d disable the bastard.” He thought it would get a crack of a smile out of the symp, but Musey just stared at him.
Somebody’s tags beeped. Turned out to be Musey’s. He tapped them and stepped away, waving at Ryan to continue practicing. It sounded like it might’ve been Evan on the other end of the comm, but Musey went out of earshot, down the range.
Ryan squinted and shot at his pirate-dressed holotarget. He spun the gun around like he saw in the vids and pictured Tyler Coe’s face on the image.
“Captain’s son,” somebody said, on his left.
He turned, took a step back automatically, glad he did when he saw Sanchez there.
He looked toward Musey but all he saw was a black-shirted shoulder. Musey was leaning against one of the partition screens between target stations, his back to Ryan.
“What do you need that symp for?” Sanchez said. “I just want to talk to the other Azarcon.”
“Well… now you’ve talked to me.” He fingered the gun, acutely aware it wasn’t real.
But Sanchez was all smiles, nonthreatening, as he picked up his own practice weapon and stood at a neighboring station. “Need help with this?”
Ryan said, “No. Thanks.”
“Here, watch.” The jet edged over to Ryan’s station and fired his weapon three times.
The target registered three dead-on hits, one in the forehead and two in the heart.
Ryan said, “Nice. Now get out of my light.” He wasn’t in the light, as the lights came down overhead rather bright, but it seemed like the thing to say.
“Mouthy,” Sanchez said.
“It’s one of my more charming traits,” he said. And saw Musey had noticed them and was heading over now, semi-fast. Face unreadable and fixed on Sanchez.
Sanchez seemed unperturbed. He leaned to Ryan and whispered near his ear, “I hope that symp teaches you well. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”
Ryan tilted his chin back. “Go ahead and see how far you’ll get.”
“I’m not going to touch you,” Sanchez said, his smile large and white as Musey reached Ryan’s side. “I just want you to be safe. Captain’s son and all. Take good care of him, Muse.”
Musey didn’t say a word, just stared at the jet.
Sanchez set his practice weapon on the target console and wandered out of the gallery.
Ryan breathed then, not aware that he’d been holding it in.
“Pirate,” Musey muttered, resetting the target.
“What do you mean?”
“He says one thing, but means another. I don’t know why the captain hasn’t dumped him. He hates that kind otherwise.” Musey concentrated on calibrating the holo settings, as if trying to exorcise a thought in menial detail.
Ryan put a hand on the console, “What do you know about my father and pirates, Jos?”
Musey raised the gun one-handed and shot five rounds into the target’s face before it took a step. “Ask him.”
Musey said he had some documents to translate for the captain and Nikolas, for whenever the talks would resume once First Minister Damiani was done bitching at the captain and the admiral (Musey’s words), so he took Ryan to the library with the clear suggestion to “do some work on your own for a couple hours.”
On their way there Evan joined them, on his way too or maybe purposely planned since Musey seemed on edge after Sanchez’s pop visit. Ryan wasn’t sure Evan could be much protection against a jet, but Musey left them at the door of the library with barely a glance, apparently satisfied that his charge was safe.
Evan stuck hands in his sweater pockets, as if he didn’t know what to do with them if they weren’t holding a beer and a cigret.
“He’s full of jokes and jollies,” Ryan said to Evan, by way of greeting.
“I know. You should see him do an impersonation of your father.”
Ryan laughed. “Really?”
“No.” Evan grinned. “But wouldn’t that be funny?”
Beyond funny, they agreed.
And it was easier then, now that they had a mutual target for a couple inside jokes.
They found a workstation in the corner of the large library, sidestepping the broad, currently deactivated tactical table that dominated the center of the deckspace. Jets probably used that; there was a holoarm bent up near the ceiling. The other smaller stations were sparsely occupied by crew, not all of them jets, tapping at comps or talking softly to them. Some of the people huddled in small groups. At least one couple was half hidden behind a privacy screen, making out.
Evan said, “A good place to go if you have prudish berth-mates.”
The library was between training deck and jetdeck, accessible by both, with private rooms off to the side where the school was conducted. One sprawling fishbowl window showed a class in progress, lined up at tables with their open comps, a dropscreen linked to another class (at Austro?), and a uniformed instructor at the head of the room. Evan explained that the captain encouraged the crew to gain credits and eventually diplomas or certifications, above and beyond what was required to perform their duties on ship. If you wanted to take an art course just for fun that was okay too. Macedon paid for it, so many of the crew, especially the younger kids, took advantage of it.
“Not too many of us went to formal school, like if we were at relocation colonies or you know… adopted by pirates,” Evan said.
“I read about that. On the Send,” he said, before thinking that sounded kind of funny. Like discussing a vid. “I mean, about the relocation colonies.” He’d read about it in passing. It had never seemed very urgent to him.
Evan didn’t comment. He was probably thinking, Typical rich stitch.
Ryan couldn’t argue it either.
He unclamped a chair from a nearby cubicle and set it on the deck beside Evan, in front of a single comp. “So deal me more dirt about Musey. I want something on him when we start combat training, so he doesn’t damage me too badly.”
Evan laughed so loud they got told to shut up.
Ryan whispered, “What’s with you two anyway? He your boyfriend?”
Evan grinned. “Uh, no. Jos? If he ever admitted he liked anybody I think I’d die of shock.”
“Why’s he like that, anyway?”
“He’d kill me if I told you. Just… put two and two together. I told you Falc
one had him for a while.” Evan looked toward the comp and poked at it absently to activate it. “It doesn’t really matter though. I know he’s cool about it, the way he can be, even though he doesn’t say anything. Or do anything.”
“Just because he hasn’t killed you?”
Evan laughed. “Actually, yeah, with Jos… if he doesn’t shove you or smack you around that’s pretty much acceptance in his head.”
“I couldn’t live with that.”
“No?” Evan rubbed the knee of his fatigues. “Hmm.”
“So how’d he kill that pirate anyway?”
Evan ran his finger down the comp screen, highlighting menu icons in a fire trail. “Stabbed him in the neck.”
He hadn’t expected the answer, or the way it was just tossed into the air.
Evan looked at him with a small, amused smile. “Why’re you so appalled?”
“I don’t know… it just seems kind of… coldblooded.”
“Jos can be pretty cold-blooded.”
He believed that. Falcone must have hurt Musey bad.
It was rotten of him to pry, especially to use Evan for a source. Since Evan seemed to like his company, or was lonely, or something. Ryan looked at the comp. “So… show me this thing. Does it access the Universal Library Files?”
“Yeah, and you have limited access to the Send too. They’re holo optional. But you can’t transcast from these units.”
“Oh.”
“Have you checked the Send lately?”
“Actually, no. Too busy running around with Musey.”
Evan smiled. “Apparently everyone on Austro is wonderin’ if you’re okay and why haven’t you been seen on their decks. They’re sayin’ maybe you were more injured at the Dojo than anybody let on.”
He felt his teeth grind. “I don’t give a damn. I’m sick of the Send. What, is Tyler Coe saying I lost a limb or something?”
Evan laughed. “Mano. Azarcon. You gotta have a sense of humor about it. Just think. All those stupid wanks on that station makin’ up stories about how you’re holed up in your room. And here you are on your daddy’s bad-ass ship havin’ convos with ex-pirates and symps.”
“Well,” he said, having to grin, “when you put it like that.”
“Poor little meedees,” Evan continued, “scurryin’ about with their little cam-orbs in search of a story. Imagine if there weren’t no war or no Azarcons. They’d have to pick their noses to find somethin’ newsworthy.”
He couldn’t stop laughing. “Nose worthy.”
The couple making out on the other side of the cubicle had the gall to peek over and say, “Keep it down.”
Ryan said, “Aren’t you two done yet?”
They weren’t combat jets so they didn’t take issue with him. Evan leaned close, his voice dropping. “Do you know how to burndive?”
“A little. But it doesn’t matter here, my father hasn’t authorized me to transcast. The ship would flag me if I tried.” His eyes grazed over the comp icons but he was careful not to blink code at the holo prompt that would connect his optical implants. “I wanted to send back some comms to my ex-girlfriend but… there’s that point of origin issue. She can’t know I’m on ship.”
“There are ways around that,” Evan said.
“I don’t know how. My burndiving skills don’t extend that far. Especially not using a carrier link.”
“Musey knows how. He spied for years on this ship and sent reports to the Warboy.”
“I already asked him and he said no. He’s on my father’s orders.”
“Maybe you didn’t ask him sweetly enough.”
“Evan, I don’t think he’d go against my father for anything. Besides, you want to get me into trouble?”
“Nah.” Evan smiled, showing his jagged tooth. “But it’d be a lotta fun if you could drop insults to meedees and mess up their ’casts, don’t you think?”
He laughed. “Yeah.”
“Highlight some words about that half-sprig Tyler. I mean, what else are you gonna do on this ship to amuse yourself? Might as well screw with the meedees. They do ’cast a lot of shit about you and your family.”
“As long as my father is who he is, that won’t change.”
“That’s ’cause people got all the wrong info.” Evan’s eyes brightened and he leaned to the comp, tapping into it.
“What’re you looking for?” He leaned forward on his elbows.
“Since Jos can’t help us, we can help ourselves.”
The “us” part didn’t spook him much, but he wondered at it. Maybe Evan was just bored.
“Part of my job,” Evan said as he poked at the screen, “is to review what’s been looked up in the files and stuff, so we can get an idea of what the crew’s interested in and we can place orders when we get to port. Like games and specialty vids, that kinda thing.”
“Wouldn’t it all just be porn?” Ryan grinned.
Evan laughed. “Surprisingly, nah. But I know my way around this system. Okay, look here.” He pointed to a series of links and ran his finger down the screen, slowly scrolling them.
Links to comp tech information. Back door progging, holointerface shortcuts, and buildable templates… the basics of burndiving.
“Hey,” Ryan said. “Brazen.”
“You know it. If you’re a good enough progger you can burndive, and this stuff is officially here ’cause some of our techies wanna improve their skills. Cap’s comm officer can dive. She tailed Jos a couple times.”
“Really?” He reached over and poked some links, scanned the info.
“I learned a little just from following some of these manuals and trying them out on my comp back in q. I haven’t told Jos, though, so don’t say anything. He’ll probably think I wanna sabotage the ship.” Evan smirked. “But I ain’t that good. It would take a lot. If you know some stuff already I bet you can pick up the rest. At least to mask a comm sig.”
“I think I can.” He chewed his lip. “I want to copy some of this and take it back to my mobile.”
“I’ll get you a cube. Or do you prefer chipsheets?”
“Any or.”
Evan got up and wove his way through the workstations to a supply room near the back. Ryan shifted into the vacant seat, bloomed a separate window, and looked for the holo setting icon. It was much faster this way. He found the icon in the corner and blinked twice at it. The ship library engulfed him then, a smooth transition from real-world to comp-world that he’d only found in the latest upgrades of the tech.
Sweet setup, Daddy.
He darted around the columns of choices to acquaint himself with the system; it wasn’t much different from the library units he’d used on Earth or Austro. So he voiced a search for Falcone.
It wasn’t a long wait. A blurt of links sprang across his sight in ghostly lines.
FALCONE, VINCENZO MARCUS—CAPTAIN.
GENGHIS KHAN—SHIP.
PIRATE—ORGANIZATION.
He ran his gaze down the list, watched them highlight yellow as his implants scanconnected, then blinked back up at the first item. It flicked open to an encyclopedic paragraph.
… notorious captain of the pirate ship Genghis Khan, he was formerly a decorated commanding officer of the Earth-Hub vessel Kali. Born on Kane Station July 29, 2132 EHSD, he entered the Navy Space Corps Academy at 16…
Ryan scanned.
… and was posted as senior helmsman on Kali at age 20… was the captain of Kali by age 30 at a time that is widely considered to be the height of the deep-space war... was disgraced at the Battle of Ghenseti in 2162 EHSD when—
“Ryan.”
He blinked out hurriedly and looked up past the faint images of the words that ghosted across his vision in afterburn.
A quick glance at the screen showed the second window still blank since he hadn’t manually accessed anything, except for basic icons, so he patted it to shut it down.
“What were you looking for?” Evan asked, passing him a chipsheet.
&n
bsp; “Stuff about Falcone. Like why my father hates him so much.”
“He does bad things to kids like Jos.” And me, was the implicit suggestion. Evan gazed at him in mild offense. “I guess it’s kinda weird for you to think about. “Cause you grew up rich with your schools and your bodyguard.”
“It wasn’t perfect,” Ryan said, and turned around to transfer the files he needed. He slid in the chipsheet and tapped away. “Besides, it’s not my fault where I was born.”
“Sorry,” Evan said, moving closer to his shoulder, a hand on the back of his seat. “What’re you doing later this shift?”
Ryan didn’t take his eyes from the screen. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Duty’s a little loose now that we’re in port. I mean… I get my work done but nobody’s going to bark at me if I slack. Technically I can probably get a pass to go on station. It’s not like I’m a jet or considered essential personnel…”
“I can’t go on station. Anyway, I’m having dinner with my father.”
“Oh.”
He ejected the sheet once the information was transferred and stood, rolling it up, then tucking it into a cargo pocket on his pants. He blanked the comp. “Thanks for this, Evan. I’ll figure out a way to comm Shiri now. Shiri—my girlfriend.”
“Thought you said she was your ex?”
Ryan smiled at him. “Maybe not for long. So thanks.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.”
He wasn’t sure when the atmosphere had changed, but Evan didn’t move back to allow him room into the aisle.
“Look, Evan… I hope you weren’t helping me because you thought I’d… you know. That isn’t how I do things.”
“I didn’t.” The blue eyes darkened, angry. “Thanks. See ya around.” Now he moved off toward the exit.
What now?
So much for being upfront.
They got out to the corridor and Musey was just walking up.
“Hey,” he said, pinning on Ryan. “Want a break? Did you look around at the school?”
“Not really,” he said, before he thought it might be more preemptive if he lied.
“Why not?” Musey said.
Burndive Page 28