by Ed Greenwood
“He posed a threat to Disarmament stability,” Jed said dryly, sounding not unlike a Shadowplay operative.
I jokingly told him so.
He looked around, hesitated.
I am Shadowplay, he sent. I thought you knew.
Nothing could have prepared me for that revelation. Jed could never keep a secret—when had he developed the skill? Then why the hell are you running from them? Why aren’t they willing to protect you?
He turned into a small art gallery, where a young girl sat for a short time, hoping to sell some of her abstract drawings. With a blinding jolt, she disappeared and the room became empty. Jed beckoned me into the adjoining room, an empty hall filled with more of the colorful works.
“It’s better if we keep this ear-to-mouth,” he said, “so they can’t easily decrypt it.”
“Explain.”
“Look, man,” he stammered, sucking in air through perfect teeth, “they had a crooked mod like you go tinkering with my mind years ago, when I signed up. Loosened a few screws, I suspect, but what scares the shit out of me is the fact that I can’t remember hardly anything before you—before Sasha’s death. All I know, all they want me to know, is anger. They wanted a killer, and they found one, Dax.”
“What do you mean?”
“I used to spend a lot of time inside the combat sims, you remember?”
I nodded, uncertain.
“Well,” he said, on the verge of stuttering, “memories, cerebral output scans, are really the only valid evidence in a courtroom anymore. Testimonies just don’t hold up. If it isn’t caught on camera or sonar imaging, something solid like that, then the mind is really the only place left to look for the truth.” He turned and rested his arms on the unstained wood of the antique-looking anteroom’s open windowsill. His gaze seemed to wander, searching through the blur of Lachiga’s online replica.
Did he suspect that I was manipulating the synaptic link? It troubled me that he seemed not to notice that the crowds had vanished. Only winks of colorful light now populated the virtual world beyond the window.
“Jesus, man.” I drew in a deep breath, the artificial weight of cyberspace threatening to crash down upon me. “You didn’t have to put yourself through all this…She never would have wanted you risking your life and reputation just to build a buffered credit line.”
“Don’t fucking bring her up,” Jed hissed. “She’s gone, and all that’s left is my deadly aim with a sniper rifle. Like you’d have done any different.”
“So what, then?” I asked. “I still don’t follow. You admit that you killed him, and they might have performed some sort of alteration of your personality when you joined a global kill squad. And yet your own people are after you?” It didn’t make sense.
“I told them I wanted out,” he said at last. “Told them I was done neutralizing threats.”
Suddenly I, too, wanted out. The idea of tampering with my best friend’s mind had seemed a terrible one from the start, but knowing that his innocence was arguably already intact, and that it had been Shadowplay’s puppeteering that led to the Chief Federator’s assassination, I saw no need to go on toying with Jed.
“They threatened to kill me,” I admitted, “unless I managed to implant false memories in your head—convince you that you hadn’t killed anyone.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Of course. To cover their tracks, prove that Disarmament protocol is infallible. To keep world peace intact, they go around killing anybody who’s still got an antique M4 lying around in their basement, and then wipe the memories of their own security forces. This government’s a bad joke.”
How could Jed ever be truly free? They’d hunt him to the edges of the Earth, into outer space, to silence him. In the real world or in the digital one, he’d never be safe from Shadowplay.
Not as long as either of us was still plugged in.
I reset the time flux to normal, and then sent the encrypted transmission the female Shadowplay agent had given me across the ModComm network.
My omni bleeped, and I signaled for Jed to be silent.
The call established itself privately inside my implant, but I vocalized aloud anyway, wanting Jed to catch on. As much as I knew he’d hate the idea.
“It’s done,” I lied. “He’s secure. I interrogated him in the guise of a Federal officer and he swears he’s innocent.”
Great work, she sent. We were starting to get worried he’d brainwashed you in that private server room of his. Really strange data feed coming from that place.
“It’s all taken care of. He’s no longer a threat to you guys, but I think for the memory implantation to last, I’m going to have to jack out of the Net and take him someplace quiet where we can catch up, tie up loose ends. Placing him back in a familiar environment might raise doubt, suspicion.”
Should be fine, she said. Just keep your omni online and I’ll be able to pick up any calls in case some unexpected complication should arise.
“Will do.”
And Dax?
“Yeah?” I took a deep breath.
Don’t try anything cute. You jeopardize our agency, we’ll kill you.
I rubbed numbing ointment over the laser burn at the back of Jed’s head, then ran a comb through his straight locks. The thick, black hair perfectly concealed the scar.
“Now,” I said, “you’re gonna have to take mine out.”
“Oh, hell no. No way. Just switch it off or something. Once we get to the old city, those two will be so confused they won’t have any idea where to look for us.”
“That’s the plan, but the implant’s coming out.”
Dubiously, Jed picked up the laser.
Dawn broke upon Lachiga and the waters visible just beyond the station shimmered, gilded by the light of the morning.
Jed led the way inside the Magnetrak car, and I followed him to the seat at the far back. I collapsed into the comfort of the thick aerofoam, delirious and exhausted. Now I was a runner too.
I pulled out the tattered manga paperback I’d slipped into my jacket, next to the leather shoulder rig that still holstered my concealed Xing-Barron. I opened it up and leafed through its black and white pages while we waited, then used it to mask my face as a pair of security drones hovered inside the tramcar.
The twin machines sputtered along between the rows of wide seats, electronic eyes perfunctorily scanning passengers for ticket passes. Facial verification wasn’t needed on the Chicago-bound Magnetrak; the UA government only kept a watchful eye on those going into the massive floating city.
After they’d made their rounds, the two tiny robots exited the car and the doors slid shut. A delightful chime sounded.
“Thanks for coming after me,” Jed said, eyeing my comic book briefly, and then making eye contact. It felt uncomfortable for an instant, not knowing just how much of my friend remained or how much of his personality had been permanently erased.
“I had no choice, man,” I said.
Of course, I would have been dead otherwise. But that didn’t change how grateful I felt for having reconciled our friendship.
“That’s kind of you,” he joked.
“No,” I replied, and then chuckled. “They were literally going to kill me if I didn’t agree to perform the mind alteration on you.”
He shivered, perplexed. “Some friend you are.”
We laughed together, and then I vacantly turned my gaze to the news screen that hung overhead. I heard our last names spoken by some film actress-turned-reporter.
Jed didn’t react, so I opened the manga back up and kept reading. We’d have a few a minutes before we reached the station; time to let my aching bones rest.
I enjoyed the ride.
Father-Daughter Outing
Martin L. Shoemaker
“We’re doing okay, Daddy. Doing okay…Nine-seven, nine-eight, nine-nine, twelve hundred!
“Okay, Daddy…Gotta catch my breath…And check your stretcher pressure—
“No, that’s wro
ng. Lunar Survival Manual says check my pressure and oh-two first, then look to the injured. I know, Daddy, I know: follow the manual.
“Pressure is point-eight standard. LSM says keep pressure light, conserve air. Oh-two is nominal. I’m not breathing hard from carrying you, not too much. I wish I had my LSM. Maybe I should turn up the oh-two to compensate for the work, but maybe I should turn it down. I don’t remember, so I’ll leave it alone.
“Temperature is a little high from exertion. Turning up the radiator a bit, but I want to save the batteries. Sun might catch us if I stay here too long.
“Okay, Daddy. Stretcher pressure is high. I turned it down but the med comp overrode me. I think it’s trying to keep you well oxygenated. You lost a lot of blood, so it’s compensating. I think.
“I just need to sit a little. Sorry for sitting on the stretcher. That regolith is neg one-forty, and my suit butt’s not insulated enough for that.
“No joke about my butt? I guess you’re really out cold, huh?
“I’m up, I’m up. Sun’s coming.
“Twelve-one, twelve-two, twe’-three, twe’-four, five, six, seven, eight…”
“Looking for Moon Men, Ellie?”
“Daaaaad!” I turned from the port and scowled at him. “I haven’t believed in Moon Men for five yeeeeeears!”
Okay, it was really only two years, but Daddy didn’t have to know. A girl’s entitled to some secrets, Mom always says, so Dad didn’t need to know I still looked for Moon Men back when I was twelve. He forgets I’m practically grown up. Why give him another excuse to forget?
Daddy thinks I want to become an explorer because I’m still looking for Moon Men. Mom thinks I want to find a diamond mine and get rich. But they both think exploring is just a phase I’ll grow out of. They don’t say that to me, but it’s in their eyes and in the way they smile at me when I study Dad’s old Lunar Survival Manual.
Well, I may be a kid—legally—but I’m serious about this. I will be a Lunar explorer, and that’s all there is to it! Why else are people living here if not to explore? Our cities cover half a million hectares, maybe two million if you count space ports and mines and other Outside facilities. Ninety-nine-point-nine-five percent of our world is still begging for explorers. I know I won’t find Moon Men, no matter how Daddy teases. I don’t know what I’ll find, that’s the point! But with that much unexplored surface, I’ll find something!
As for Mom…Well, maybe I’ll find something valuable, you never know. Shoes aren’t cheap, and a famous discovery could buy me lots of shoes…
“Five years, huh? I guess you’ve lost interest, then. I guess you wouldn’t want to go Outside tomorrow…”
“Outside?”
“Oh, I had a father-daughter outing in mind. But since you’re bored with Outside…”
“DADDY!!!”
“Jim, don’t tease her.” Mom came into the viewing room, Jimmy bouncing on her hip. “Eliza, we got your grade report today. You’ve brought your grades up. Way up.”
“Well, Mr. Huynh says explorers have to know math and science. And I see what he means! My LSM makes a lot more sense now. There are still some equations I can’t understand, though. Mom, can you show me—”
Mom cut me off. “Math later, dear. You can take a break, you know.”
“There’s plenty of time. We’re not sending you to Lunar Survival School. Maybe when you’re sixteen, if you’re still interested.”
“But Daaaaaad!”
Again Mom took control. “But we’re going to set up some more Outside expeditions for you, and for us as a family when I can find a sitter for Jimmy. You’re growing up—you’ve earned it.”
“And as for tomorrow…” Daddy tapped his comp, pushing a message to the wall screen.
ISSUED BY: Kirk Hanson, Supervisor, Merrick Lunar Mining Co.
ISSUED TO: James Wall, Mining Technician.
SUBJECT: One Career Observer Pass, registered to Eliza Wall.
ATTACHED: E. Wall’s certifications for Spacesuit Operations, Orienteering, Communications, and First Aid.
“I talked to my supervisor. He checked your certifications and approved it. I’ve arranged it with Mr. Huynh. You’re excused from school tomorrow for the Career Observer program. We’ll spend all day out checking the prospecting stations. You’ll have to write a report, of course, and—”
“DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy!”
“Whoa! Feet on the ground! No launching in the house!”
“Nine-eight…nine-nine…Damn it!
“Oops! I didn’t mean to swear…honest, Daddy!
“Oh, you’re still unconscious. Whew!
“But I wish you were conscious! I’m just upset. I don’t remember if I’m at twenty-eight hundred or twenty-nine.
“The count really doesn’t matter, I know; I just have to keep walking until I hit Tycho. But I have to keep up the pace. The sun is getting closer! When it hits, the temperature will start to climb. The lith’ll get up to 75C eventually. Suits have a higher albedo so they won’t get that hot, but I don’t know how long our radiators can keep our temps down.
“I did like you taught me: a count helps you keep up your pace. A song, a chant. Anything rhythmic…just to keep me trudging along.
“Hmmm…Remember the way you taught me the constellations and the stars?
“Crux, Centaurus, Lupus, Ara, Telescop’yum, And Corona Aust-a-ralis, Sagittar’yus, Scorp’yus, Libra, Hydra, Corvus, Virgo, Serpens, Ophiuch’us, Scutum, ‘quila, Cygnus, Lyra, Herc’les, C’rona Bor’lis, Bootes, Co’ Ber’nices…”
Daddy had six prospecting stations to inspect that day. They’re big robot platforms that creep over the lith, scraping up samples, running analyses, and storing away anything really unusual. They follow some sort of search pattern; I can’t explain it.
I didn’t want to get Daddy in trouble with Mr. Hanson, so I didn’t say my real opinion of the prospectors. But even though they’re Daddy’s job, they’re a poor substitute for real explorers! Would an AI have recognized the Genesis Rock that Irwin and Scott found on Apollo 15? I don’t think so!
Daddy stopped at the first station, nearly two hours from Tycho. We sealed our suits and buddy-checked them. Daddy had taught me to buddy-check a suit as soon as I could understand a pressure gauge. I can’t wait for when it’s my turn to teach Jimmy!
When both suits were green, Daddy evacuated the crawler. Pumps sucked all the air into air bottles. Then he opened the hatch. I stood patiently, following protocol as he lowered the ramp, climbed down, and did a quick visual inspection. When he came on the radio—“Observer Wall, clear to disembark.”—I carefully stepped down the ramp. I wanted to leap. Heck, we leap longer ramps in gym class and we’re graded on that. But again, with the recorders running, I did things by the book.
And then Daddy threw the book out at the second station: he let me go out and do the arrival inspection! If we weren’t suited, I would’ve kissed him.
At each station, Daddy used his remote to stop the drive and put the whole unit on standby. Then he inspected the treads, the tread drives, and the electronics. Meanwhile, his comp talked to the station AI, the two of them blip-bleep-blipping back and forth until each of them agreed that the other was healthy. At the second station, I asked: “Dad, what happens if each one thinks the other is malfunctioning?”
“Well, Ellie, you remember what I taught you about calibration?”
“Uh-huh.” I thought a bit. “Ohhh! You calibrated your computer this morning, so you know it’s healthy!”
“Well, tech support calibrated it, and even a calibration can be wrong. But you’re close enough. Mark yourself down for a cookie.”
After the inspection, Daddy removed the station logs and replaced them with new storage blocks from the crawler. The stations upload their logs any time they detect a satellite overhead, but the company wants the physical logs as well. I asked why, and I got a twenty-minute lesson on redundant systems, error checking, and data consistency tests. Sometimes Dad
dy’s the most irritating man on Luna! He can never answer a simple question. He always answers with a question, or a story, or even a homework assignment! He says I’ll learn more if I figure the answers out for myself. I guess he’s right. But just once, I’d like him to give me a simple, direct answer. Does everything have to be a test?
“The terminator’s really close now, Daddy. The LSM says it moves about sixteen klicks an hour at the equator; I’m guessing ten to twelve here at Tycho’s latitude. I should be able to move faster than that in Lunar G. But I’ve been walking a long time now. And besides, I’m dragging your stretcher. And we both know I didn’t inherit my big butt from Mom.
“Again with the butt jokes. Sorry, I’m nervous. Gotta rest a minute, but I can’t rest too long.
“I need something with a faster beat. Something simpler. I get thinking about the star names, and it slows me down. Hmmm…
“Two little looney birds sittin’ on the pad One named Lou and one named Chad. Blast off, Chad; blast off, Lou! Space is calling, and it’s calling for you! Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One, BLAST OFF! Now off to Earth! Off to Mars! Off that pad!
“Don’t worry, Daddy, I know hundreds of rhymes!”
At the fourth station, the accident struck. I don’t know what happened. I was bored with Daddy’s routine after the second station, so I was watching the stars, naming off constellations and looking for spaceships or satellites, when Daddy suddenly yelled like I’d never heard before.
I turned and looked, and I screamed. Some sort of fluid was jetting out of the drive unit.
I don’t know what could remain liquid at that temperature and pressure, but I never thought to wonder when I saw that the jet had sliced into Daddy’s left calf. The thin, pressurized stream had cut the suit like a knife. The suit absorbed the worst of it—but as I pulled Daddy away from the stream, I saw blood boiling into the vacuum. And his yelling was now screaming. A girl should never hear her daddy scream. That’s just wrong.
Before I even got him out of the stream, the suit’s auto-tourniquet activated. The AT would stop the bleeding and also prevent any further air loss, but I knew from first aid class that an AT is only for short-term emergency treatment. It can starve the limb of blood and kill the tissue. I had to get Daddy into the crawler and then apply pressure.