Ghost Black

by Matthew S. Cox

  「I’m not a deck jockey. I couldn’t… and I’d have to leave Mars.」 She tried not to sound as scared at the thought as she felt. 「I… don’t want to go to Earth.」

  「Not Earth. The Moon. The Senate chambers are on the Moon. There is zero official ACC presence there.」

  Risa flared her eyes wide and rolled them. 「Never thought they’d pay attention to an ancient flag.」

  「They didn’t.」 Everett flashed a proud smile. 「We kicked their asses off that rock. Somehow, we wound up agreeing to say it was them doing ‘the honorable thing.’ The same thing that’s going on around you on Mars now happened on the Moon a long time ago, only then it was a lot more messy.」

  「Oh.」 More lies. Why am I not surprised? 「Still.」

  「You don’t need to do the network part of the job. That we can handle from remote. All you need to do is build a bridge.」

  The tuna threatened to erupt all over the floor at the idea of leaving Mars, even for only a short time. Thinking about what a privileged Senator with a vengeful axe to grind would do to Kree, Pavo, Garrison, Gen… and everyone else she’d bled and suffered with tamped it down.

  「How much time do we have?」

  Everett’s nostrils flared with a sigh. 「About three days.」

  22

  The Dark Side

  Risa stared at the floor in the back seat of a nondescript beige hovercar. The man and woman up front wore civilian clothes, looked like ordinary middle-class citizens, but they had picked her up on Everett’s instruction. She felt like they carted her off to prison, a notion made worse by her lack of weapons (other than her claws) and armor. Risa, too, had dressed in a nondescript fashion. Baggy white blouse and loose black pants similar to fatigues, though without pockets on the legs. Sneakers felt strange in their comfort.

  A mental poke opened a virtual holo-panel, in which she played the recording of her conversation with Kree. Genevieve came by to babysit. Risa had explained that someone far away wanted to do something bad. If Risa didn’t go deal with it, people might make her go away forever. The girl had taken it well; of course she cried, but she didn’t scream, tantrum, or beg Risa not to go. If everything went well, she’d be back in a few days.

  She froze the image on Kree’s face, and stared at it until the hovercar landed fifteen minutes later at Fort Vanguard. Arcadia City had two starports, and this one belonged to the military. She peered out the window at a wide variety of aircraft. Lava Wasps, light recon fighters, in both green and Mars camo schemes dotted pads wherever the tiny ships could squeeze in. Larger DS2 dropships clustered to one side while a few DS4s, which looked almost identical but several times the size, parked a quarter-mile away on the far north end.

  The dropships had a basic design aesthetic: an aerodynamic box with retractable wings, and a long tail boom with trefoil fins, one up, two down at forty-five degree angles. The cockpit on the DS4 looked like the same modular component as the DS2, which made it seem tiny compared to the rest of the ship. Armored personnel carriers―wedge-shaped things with six wheels two feet taller than the vehicle―lined up in front of the smaller ships. The cargo hold on the DS2 appeared designed around the APC, perfectly sized to hold one.

  The DS4, on the other hand, was a true starship that could carry four DS2s in its hold.

  “This way, Lieutenant,” said the woman.

  Her escort walked her across the blinding glare shimmering on the plastisteel tarmac. Here and there, black and yellow lines defined taxiways or boundaries where ion thrust remained at safe levels and the occasional red square labeled ‘NO STEP’ broke up the silver monotony.

  They led her to a DS4 surrounded by puffs of smoke and fog, clearly in the midst of takeoff prep as opposed to the ones sitting idle. Its cockpit sat so high up, she couldn’t even see the pilot from the ground. The ship perched on three legs: two massive forward struts tipped with pads, and a smaller one, which appeared to fold down out of the tail boom.

  “This is as far as we go.” The man stopped, turned, and seemed unsure if he should salute or shake hands. He opted for neither and gestured at a ladder formed by dozens of small recesses in the hull. “Your chariot awaits.”

  “Thanks.”

  Risa grabbed the hollows, noting scratches along the inside that hinted they closed flat while in flight. At the top of a two-story climb, a man in green fatigues offered her a hand in a door-sized hatch. She accepted, glancing at his chest as he pulled her inside. His nameplate read ‘Meeks, J.’ Risa followed him down narrow metal corridors, past several staterooms with officer rank insignia on the doors and a room full of bunk beds.

  “Everett wants you on the Moon today… Normally, the trip takes about sixteen days. You ain’t got that kind of time.” Sergeant Meeks looked her up and down. “You ever jump before?”

  “I’ve never left Mars.”

  “Oh, boy.” He sighed. “Please tell me you’re not going to have a freak-out at a gel tube.”

  Risa laughed. “No, I’m quite familiar with them.”

  “Good. Okay, noob time. The jump from here to the Moon will take about two minutes. Unfortunately, even that short, we gotta tank up. If you’re thinking of cutting corners, don’t. G-forces involved with wormhole spelunking will tear you apart from the inside out. The gel absorbs the stresses and protects the body.”

  “I read there’s rumors about interdimensional creatures too. Some people have seen wild shit.”

  Sergeant Meeks waved her off. “Don’t go talkin’ bout any of that nonsense on my ship. We’re a superstitious lot, and that’s bad juju. It’s similar to a medical tank. You’ll be sedated for the duration of the jump. You probably won’t even realize you went out.”

  “Right. Where’s my room?”

  “This way.” Sergeant Meeks grinned.

  After cutting across an area with a few tables, a food reassembler, lockers, and showers, he opened the door to a long chamber with twenty-four clear cylinders―and no privacy among them. Already, four men and a woman stood around naked, grumbling about the ‘bogus assignment.’

  “Great. Everett booked me first class.” Risa sighed, and pulled her top off. “What locker should I use?”

  Disappointment radiated from Sergeant Meeks. A few of the others sighed as well.

  Risa glanced from them to Meeks. “I can act embarrassed if you guys were that desperate for the lols.”

  He shook his head and laughed, pointing at a small metal door marked ‘0020.’ “That one.”

  She, and the soldiers, sat around nude for a little while as the ship lifted off and flew out to Mars orbit. Two men sipped coffee, one tried to sleep, and the woman munched on something from a silver packet. Aside from the deep rumble of heavy-duty ion thrusters, the DS4 felt like riding a PubTran bus over a crappy section of road. About twenty minutes after takeoff, two women in green jumpsuits walked in and proceeded to strip in front of lockers. At their entry, the rest of the soldiers approached their tanks and got in. She eyed the pilots with unease for a few seconds before it hit her.

  Oh. Right. Autopilot… everyone’s gotta be in a tank for the wormhole.

  She stepped into her assigned tube and felt a little odd at going into one without a medical or cybernetics problem. With a trace of a smile, she let all the air out of her lungs as the peach-colored goop rose up to cover her head. Hanging weightless in the syrupy breathable gel, she waited while the rest of the crew ‘tubed-up.’ Once the last chamber closed, the room lights dimmed.

  Less than a minute later, she felt a touch drowsy, but the lights came back on before anything noticeable occurred. Mechanical whirring filled her ears from the pump removing the fluid.

  In the blink of an eye, here we are.

  Risa paced back and forth across a grey carpet in a grey room, looking out the window at a grey landscape with a black ‘sky.’ The Earth, a blue and white gem, lurked at the left edge. Great. I’m in the world that color forgot. Not being able to call Pavo or Kree twisted at her guts. C-Br
anch had been adamant about that point, forcing her to leave her NetMini at home.

  She wandered to the hotel bathroom, stripped, and spent an hour cycling her CamNano among various skin tones and hair colors. At a knock, she slipped back into her blouse, long enough to cover the criticals, and padded to the door. A blond man outside in a shimmery black suit glanced from side to side in an impatient manner, bouncing from foot tapping.

  “Who are you?” asked Risa, via the intercom.

  “For what you charge per hour, you ask a lot of damn questions.”

  I’m going to hurt someone for these code phrases. “You’re older than you’re supposed to be.”

  He banged on the door. “Come on. Let me see what I’m paying for.”

  She hit the button to open it, and he swooped inside.

  “Nice,” whispered the man. He brushed past her and set a black briefcase on the bed.

  Risa closed the door. “So, you’re Berkeley.”

  “I was expecting someone older. Are you even eighteen?” His thumb tinted green from a code panel as he keyed five digits into buttons beneath the handle. The briefcase popped open with a click.

  “Thanks, and I’m twenty… something. Five maybe.”

  “Okay.” He took out a plastic packet. “Underwear. The waistband has a concealed garrote.”

  She caught it. Black lace. “Great. Killer panties. What’s the bra do?”

  “Covers breasts.” He reached back into the case and set out a black skirt, white blouse, and a matching black woman’s suit jacket with silver bands around the sleeves and military markings on the shoulders, a silver field with two black squares.

  “Right. I can’t say I mind the hurry. The sooner I get back the better.” She clutched carpet with her toes. “I’m really hoping no one is going to screw something up due to rushing.”

  He retrieved a small spray can from the case. “We’re good. Would you mind taking your shirt off?”

  “I thought the call girl bit was a cover?”

  “Trust me, I’m not interested.” He raised the spray can. “This coating lasts approximately five hours and will create a barrier on your skin capable of blocking scans from picking up your neuralware and installed components. It may erode from your hands with abrasion, so be careful.”

  Risa pulled her shirt off and stood like a child being sprayed with sunscreen by their parent.

  “Turn.”

  She did. Cool mist settled on her skin, and soon became a maddening embrace of tiny tickling pinpricks everywhere. Risa squirmed, feeling as though she’d been shrink-wrapped in thick plastic. “Shit that’s weird.”

  “Give it a minute to dry off and you won’t feel them anymore.”

  Risa walked back and forth until she felt dry, and put on the clothes provided. She whined at gloss-black dress shoes with one-inch heels. “Those look uncomfortable… and impractical.”

  He handed her a thin NetMini. “You are Warrant Officer 2 Rebecca Ann Marsh. You are twenty years old, live alone, have two living parents in East City. Your oldest brother Dorian was killed in action with the Division 0 police in West City four years and five months ago. Your surviving brother Adam is finishing up a Master’s degree at the Mars Academy of Engineering.”

  Risa checked the NetMini, noting photos of a family who appeared dark skinned. He pointed at one woman who looked like Risa with a heavy suntan.

  “That’s you.”

  “Is that spray-on stuff going to interfere with CamNano?”

  “Shouldn’t.”

  Risa eye-traced a little box around the woman’s picture to sample the color, and sent it to the control software for the CamNano. Within twelve seconds, she had a Mediterranean complexion. He reached over and pinned an ID tag on her breast pocket.

  “You’re a recent graduate, assigned to the Senatorial chambers as an Information Technology worker. We have already implemented an event that will cause Senator Nur to place a request with the help desk. You will examine her terminal, run a diagnostic, and conclude that a recent update on the public network caused a .087-second offset between her terminal’s internal clock and the network clock, resulting in a security lockdown.”

  Risa thought notes into words in her headware, and saved the file. “Got it.”

  He held up a light pen. “While you are working on the terminal, your primary objective is to employ this device.”

  “What am I supposed to write on, or is that some cleverly concealed intelligence tech?”

  Berkeley chuckled. He demonstrated twisting the top, causing a nozzle to pop up. “The spray is silent, so you should only need a minute or so of the Senator not looking at you. Based on her personality, it is unlikely she will remain in the area while you are ‘working’ on her terminal.”

  Risa frowned. “She doesn’t like being near peasants.”

  “So you did read the briefing.” He shook his head. “I never know what to expect from outside contractors.”

  She took the ‘pen.’ “I’m not that far outside. More like living in the basement. So what is this?”

  “It contains a carrier medium infused with nanobots and an atomic suspension of pure silver. Start the spray into the M3 port on the side of the terminal, and trail it to a nice, flat surface… like the bottom of the desk. The nanobots will construct a wafer antenna from the silver. The larger the area you can cover, the better.”

  “That’s your bridge.” She tucked the pen in her blazer’s left outside pocket.

  “You ready?”

  Risa nodded. “What’s the worst-case scenario?”

  “The Senator catches you spraying, calls security, and you get shot dead while fleeing.”

  “Umm.” She gathered the blazer tight around herself. This won’t stop a damn thing.

  “Well you did say worst.” Berkeley grinned. “If you get compromised, surrender. Everett will protect you… though it might take a few weeks. Then again, Senator Nur might fall for some weak line about it being an air duster and you’re cleaning the port.”

  I don’t want to be away that long. Right. Don’t fuck up. “Got it.”

  “I’ll leave in forty-five minutes so we aren’t seen together. If this goes smoothly, we won’t see each other again.” He reached out a hand. “Nice working with you. Good luck.”

  She shook. “Thanks.”

  Risa left the hotel room, thankful to escape the ‘house of drab.’ Of course, so far, everything she’d seen on the Moon had been colorless. Someone once mentioned that many centuries ago, entertainment holos weren’t even holos, mere two-dimensional images. At the early stages of those, they’d been devoid of color. She had a harder time believing movies had ever been 2D than they’d been all black and white; sometimes, they still used that for artistic effect. The Moon made her feel like she’d been pulled into an old film.

  They hadn’t been able to terraform it either. Instead, relying on a dome over Paramount City. Fragments of something she’d once read came back to her, about the moon not having enough geomagnetism to hold an atmosphere.

  At the hotel exit, she summoned a PubTran car with ‘Rebecca’s’ NetMini and gazed off in the distance at a massive emerald spire of glass jutting out from the center of the city. Anyone who looked like a tourist wound up mobbed by rag-clad children begging for food or credits with which they could buy something to eat. Her uniform seemed to keep them away. Risa checked ‘Rebecca’s’ finances and frowned at a meager Ͼ5,582. She also didn’t have a spare credstick, and the beggars didn’t appear to have NetMinis.

  On passing pedestrian commented that the beggars were part of an MLF ploy to destabilize the government. Dustblow. She scowled, wanting to correct him, but held it back. The MLF doesn’t operate anywhere but Mars. Those kids really are starving.

  When the little self-driving car skidded up to her and opened its side-hatch door, she got in. A boy of about twelve locked stares with her. At first, his chocolate-brown eyes brimmed with hate, but at the guilt on her face, he softened.
>
  “Thank you for choosing PubTran Corporation for your transportation nee―”

  “Senate Chambers.” She swiped her NetMini over the console to her left before it could tell her how much it cost.

  The door closed with a soft hiss.

  “Thank you for choosing PubTran Corporation. Your estimated arrival is six minutes twenty-four seconds.”

  She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the boy until the car drove too far away to see him. Most of the buildings on either side of the black plastisteel streets resembled larger, more primitive versions of drop boxes she’d seen on Mars. The Moon had colonies centuries before Mars, so these had to be the ancestors of modern temporary structures. None retained their spring-loaded legs, having long ago been built up into permanent emplacements. Many looked to be composed of stacks of six or seven, fused into a single tower.

  Fortunately, she didn’t see any more desperate waifs on the ride. Before long, the surroundings improved from deep grunge to well worn, and after another fifteen minutes, the Senate Chamber came into view. The high-rise had a sharp, faceted design that resembled an immense green crystalline shard that had stuck into the Moon at the center of a circular park full of trees, benches, and a grand reflecting pool.

  The boxy PubTran car squealed to a halt at the stairs leading to the front entrance. An emerald glass archway bore the carved words ‘E Pluribus Unum’ at the end nearest the street. She hopped out of the taxi and made a passable show of looking like she knew how to walk in one-inch heels. Nine heavy doors, imitation jade with tall faux-bronze bars as big as quarterstaffs for handles, sat below more ‘carved’ letters, which read: ‘Robur, Prudentiam, Aequitatem.’

  Risa shook her head, and walked straight into the door. Fortunately, she hadn’t been going too fast and it hurt her pride more than her nose. Shit. They’re not automatic.