by Robin Banks
I go along with it. I try to act as if my heart hadn’t frozen up and fallen out at some point in the night. It’s ok: I have enough practice at this kind of shit by now. I can deal.
The coms clanging in the middle of the night would have woken me up if I could sleep, but I can’t. Instead they shake me out of the trance I fell into as soon as I closed my door. I don’t get out of it fully, but I don’t need to: all I have to do is walk over to the bridge and act like I still give a fuck.
I’m the first one there. By the time everyone else piles in I’m done tuning in the com. I let Alya take it from there. It’s Gwen again.
“There’s no easy way to say this: I fucked up. We just got the final reports from the last death, or the last death I told you about, and it had nothing to do with our killer. It was just a coincidence. Two patrolmen died in a floating accident. One was one of ours. I sent you off in the wrong direction. There has been another death since. Although I’m loath to state categorically that it’s one of ours until we’ve got a copy of the autopsy, it took place precisely in the location Luke predicted. A vehicle with the right specs was recorded on site. All the details we have are attached. If we’ve got it right, you aren’t far from the one we predict to be the next one. Frankly, though, at this point I don’t even want to hazard a guess. Quinn, Asher, I love you. See you soon. Stay safe.”
Alya turns to look at me. I shrug at her.
“You better do what she said.”
“That’s all you have to say about it?”
“Yeah. What else is there?
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t care. Sorry. I just want to get this over and done with.”
I’m not in the mood to even try to interact with anyone for the rest of the trip. That’s not a problem, because nobody else is in a sociable mood either. I wonder how much of that is knowing that this could be it. If we’ve got it right, we should be able to locate our killer in a matter of days. If we’ve got it wrong, we may struggle to catch them up, and that would be bad. If we’ve do find them, though, we’re going to have to kidnap or kill them. We’ve not spoken about it much, but I think it’s at the back of everyone’s mind. Asher and Alya are ex-Patrol, so I guess that for them it’s just one of those things, a throwback to an unpleasant but tolerable time. Raj Anteian’s background has prepared him for this kind of thing. Over there they just do what needs doing. I don’t know how much experience he actually has, though. Quinn hasn’t had the upbringing, but he’s had some experience. I don’t know shit, but I’m used to that. We’ll manage, or we won’t.
If we do, chances are I’ve got less than a week to live. I mean, it could be that I die in a freak cooking accident, falling down the ship’s ramp, or whatever, but it’s not that likely. Either way, according to the prophecy I’m going to die before Alya heads home, and she’ll do that as soon as we’ve dumped Asher and Quinn back on Pollux.
I can hear the clock ticking if let myself listen. So I don’t.
Were it up to Alya, I’d die of old age in a padded box. 90% of her contributions to our planning sessions consist of making me promise that I will stay out of everyone’s way and not do anything remotely dangerous. I repeat it time and time again, and she still doesn’t believe me. I only manage to stop her locking me in my cabin by getting Raj to intervene. I feel bad about that and I hope it won’t land him in the shit if anything goes wrong, but seriously, there’s a limit to everything and she’s crossing it. She’s being irrational, and that’s not helping me, her, or the bloody mission.
Our plan, such as it is, has us spread out all over the place. Raj is going to do his usual hanging out with Fed officials so we can justify our presence. Alya is going to pretend to come down with a serious case of missing the Patrol and make a nuisance of herself at the local outpost. Being Raj’s wife, she’s going to be allowed to stick her nose pretty much anywhere. That should allow her to meet our potential victim and maybe even keep an eye on him. Whether she’s going to be capable of meeting a rapist and not throttling him, that’s another story. Asher is going to park himself at the bar nearest the spaceport exit, so he can keep an eye on new arrivals. Quinn is going to hang around the port doing his psi-spying, helping Asher to pick up any incoming trouble.
We can’t use portable coms because the Fed could pick up our signal. We need a runner, and the only person with fuck-all to do is me. I’m also the only person who knows the layout of the place and how to blend in. I grew up on a mining colony just like this one. And I mean just like this one: the Fed only ever build things one way.
As soon as Raj and Alya get out of the way, I put my case forward to Asher and Quinn. I’m hoping Asher will listen. Quinn is still pretending she barely knows me, so I’ve got no chance winning her round.
“I won’t do anything dangerous. I’ll just hang around. If anything happens I can pass on messages.”
Asher frowns. “Alya was very clear about you staying out of this.”
“She’s not the boss of me.”
“She’s not, but she cares about you.”
“She should care about the mission, too. I will not do anything much, ok? I can keep an eye on Quinn.”
Her voice is so cold it’s painful. “That won’t be necessary.”
“You don’t know that. If you spot our threat, how the hell are you going to tell Asher about it? What are you going to do, tackle them solo?”
Asher sighs. “Quinn, he’s got a point. He could tag along with you when you’re out and about. It makes sense.”
Quinn raises an eyebrow. “He’s going to be walking around with me while I’m psi-sensing?”
I cut in. “Yeah.”
“With my shields down?”
“Yeah.”
“After all the fuss you made about it?”
“Yes. I was wrong. That happens a lot. So?”
They look at each other and shake their heads. Neither of them look happy, but I’m making too much sense.
“Ok. I guess.”
Walking about with Quinn has always been nice but weird. I guess it’d be the same with any new person: you get to see what attracts their attention, how they interact with the world. I’ve only really walked around with two people: Alya and my friend Tom. Back when I was hanging with Tom we mostly looked out for trouble, both the sort we wanted to avoid and the sort we wanted to cause. I mostly still do that. Alya walks through any inhabited place as quickly as possible, as if the presence of other people offended her. Raj can hardly go out in public without people making a fuss around him, the poor bastard. Not in Anteia, anyway.
For Quinn people aren’t tools, clutter, or problems. I don’t know if it’s her psi-gift or just the way she is, but she’s way more involved in her surroundings. It’s like walking around with a dog or a kid, kinda, the way they notice stuff a grown-up would miss because we’re so wrapped up with our own shit that we miss half our lives.
She’s graceful, too. It’s nice to watch her move. Maybe she’s too graceful: I don’t like the level of attention she gets. It creeps me out. I wonder how much of the attention she’s getting would turn to interaction were I not with her. I’m probably cockblocking her something rotten. I feel both extremely glad and extremely bad about that, even though this isn’t the time for that kind of bullshit. She doesn’t complain about it, anyway. I doubt she doesn’t notice it’s happening. She seems to notice everything else, though right now she puts a great deal of effort in blanking me out.
We leave Asher parked in a bar window from which he gets a clear view of the space port exit and go walking around the port, the idea being that if someone who feels murderous or not-quite-right or whatever comes along, we’ll spot them before they leave the port. What we’ll do from that point onwards is a mystery to me. We can’t really bump off someone without proof that they’re the actual threat and I don’t see how we’re going to get that evidence without letting things get too far. I guess Asher has got something planned, though, because he di
dn’t look worried at all. When we left him he was sipping a drink and nodding his head along to the music in the background, looking chill as anything.
That gives me an idea. I’ve got a ton of music I won’t need very soon. It’s about the only thing I have, that and my clothes and the guitars. Alya and Raj have more music than me, so they neither need nor want it. It may as well go to someone who might enjoy it.
“Quinn?” She frowns at me saying her name, but I carry on. “What kind of music does Asher like?”
That makes her smile. It catches me by surprise. It’s a smile so broad that on anyone’s face but hers it would look goofy.
“The one that’s playing, mostly. But if he gets to pick, he’s more into Terran Celtic than anything else. Nobody much plays it on Pollux, and when they do it’s generally to amuse him, which isn’t quite the same, apparently. But he likes Kolya’s stuff, too.”
“Does he play anything?”
Her smile disappears. “No. He never really got a chance to learn.”
“Why can’t he learn now?”
“No instrument. And his hands are not so good since his crash. He got his strength back, but not all of the dexterity. He’s ok, though. Mostly.”
I decide that Asher should have Jay when I croak it. Raj’s old guitar should go back to him, because it belonged to his family, but Jay is mine through and through and I think Asher would get on with him. If not, I’m sure he would find him a good home. He knows more people than me. I need to make sure that happens, if it’s practical. I mean, I don’t expect anyone to make a special trip from Anteia to Pollux just to deliver a guitar, but maybe Raj will visit Kolya again. I need to make a note and put it in my room where Alya will find it, but I need to write it so it doesn’t give the game away. That could be tricky.
“Am I boring you?” Quinn’s voice jolts me.
“What?”
“Never mind. It wasn’t important.”
“Sorry. I was thinking about stuff I need to get done at home.”
“No problem.” She says that, but she’s gone all cold again.
We carry on walking, but she doesn’t say anything else after that and the way she looks doesn’t make me want to talk to her. When we get back to the bar where we left Asher she goes off without a word and gets a seat by herself. That makes my chest tighten a little bit, but I’m used to that. I get a coffee and find myself a seat right at the back. I can see both Quinn and Asher from there and I can still watch the street. I’m all good.
I find it really hard to stay alert, though. I manage it for a little while, but after a coupla hours I just can’t. I keep spacing out, thinking about my shit instead of paying attention. I guess I got soft living an easy life: three or four years ago this wouldn’t have been a problem. I try to remind myself that this is real, this is serious, that a planet’s survival may depend upon it, but it’s all too fucking conceptual. Give me a clear and present danger, and my head and body may decide to treat it seriously, get in synch with each other, and do their thing. As things are, the most I can do is try to stay with it while I stare blankly over my cup of coffee.
When a ship that matches our specs lands, we all perk up some. This is a busy port, though, and that type of ship isn’t rare, so it doesn’t have to mean anything. Quinn goes for another one of her walks, though, and I follow her. I literally follow her, walking a few meters behind her. I probably look like a fucking stalker or a mugger or something, but she clearly doesn’t want me around and she may need back up, so that seems the best solution. After a slow walk all around the port she goes back to the bar. She doesn’t approach Asher, so I guess she got nothing. I go back to my corner and another cup of coffee.
At least drinking alone doesn’t make me stick out. Most of the tables are occupied by lone drinkers, though by the looks of it most of them are on harder stuff. They all mind their own business as I mind mine. Quinn is the fucking exception, as per usual: guys keep going up to her and trying to buy her a drink. She’s always perfectly polite about it but she never accepts. Every single damn time my stomach does a back flip. I don’t know how Asher manages to put up with it. I don’t know what the fuck it’s all about, either. I mean, she’s pretty, but it’s not as if she’s trying to be, as if she was being pretty at people, she’s just herself. And ok, she’s clearly not totally straight, but it’s not as if that’s obvious, not like she’s advertising anything. The bottom line is that I just don’t know where the fuck anyone would get the idea that she’s sitting at a bar waiting for some random shithead to buy her a fucking drink like she can’t afford to buy her own, even though she’s been sitting there forever nursing the same glass.
Ok, so maybe those guys have a point, but I don’t give a fuck. Six guys into this I’m about ready to punch someone. The last guy is bloody persistent, too: instead of fucking off like all those other fuckers did, he sat himself down next to her and got to chatting. She doesn’t seem to mind, which somehow makes me mind it more, which makes no sense. I’m a fucking mess. I need to stop spacing out over crap that’s not even my business and focus on the job at hand.
I make myself look out the windows on the other side of the room. That’s the side that Asher can’t see as well from where he’s sitting, so it makes logical sense. It also stops me watching Quinn smile at that dude and tuck her hair behind her ears and all that shit. That’s not what I need to be looking at: the fucking approach road is, because that’s where trouble is going to come from. I make myself look out there for long enough that my eyes start to burn from the glare, until I can’t do it anymore and have to blink and rub them.
When I look up, Quinn has gone. That doesn’t seem right. It makes no sense her going for another walk through the port ‘cause there have been no landings. The dude who was hassling her has gone too. The conclusion my brain jumps to is that they went off together, but that makes no sense: Quinn isn’t the sort who skives off when she’s got a job to do, and she wasn’t acting like she was into that guy, either. It’s probably a coincidence: he left, and she had to hit the ‘fresher. She must have gone in there while I was looking out. So much for my observational skills.
After a few minutes she’s not back, so I go in there. I find a fuckton of filth and possibly catch something, but there’s no sign of Quinn. When I get out Asher is still in his corner. I know I’m not supposed to get in the way of him doing his shit, but this is clearly fucked up, so I go up to him.
“Did you see where Quinn went?”
“No. I was watching the spaceport entrance.”
“She didn’t go that way?”
“No.”
“This isn’t right. She wouldn’t have gone off into the town on her own without telling one of us.”
“Yes. Something is out of kilter. I’m not going to panic until I’ve got more information, though.”
I sit next to him. There’s no point pretending we don’t know each other. The whole bar has seen us talking.
After a few minutes he goes really calm and really still.
“She’s hurt. Hurt bad.”
“What? How?”
“No idea. I just know she’s hurt. She’s projecting pain. A lot of it.”
He’s talking perfectly calmly but his eyes have gone hard. He looks fucking scary, frankly, nothing like his usual self.
“Can you find her?”
“No. I should have put a fucking tracker on her.”
“If we could track her, so could anyone else.”
“If we could track her, she wouldn’t be somewhere getting hurt, and me not able to do a fucking thing.”
I close my eyes to try and think, and I think I can feel her in the distance. Maybe it’s bullshit, but maybe it isn’t. It doesn’t fucking matter, because I can’t feel her enough to know where she is or what’s happening. Had I not been such a dick about all that psi-bility bullshit, maybe I would have learnt enough to find her. Then it hits me.
“I’m going to go back to the ship. I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you if it works. I’ll put a com out to Alya and Raj while I’m there. I’ll make something up about why we need them back.”
“I’m coming with you. I don’t think we should split up.”
We get to the ship in no time. Asher puts the com out while I go digging in Alya’s office. I’ve just found what I want when he comes over.
“What the fuck are you doing with that?”
I slap the drug-release plaster on my neck. I don’t know shit about this kind of thing, but I hope that the closer it is to my brain, the faster it’ll work.
“This amplifies psi-bilities, right? Maybe there’s enough left to make a difference. I may be able to feel where she is.”
“Or you could end up out of it. Or dead. That shit didn’t do you any good the last time.”
I shrug. “There can’t be that much left in it. I just hope it’s enough.”
“You’ve gone and lost it.”
“You got a better idea?” I close my eyes and try to reach out for Quinn. Fuck-all seems to happen for ages, then I suddenly get a feeling. “Shit. I’ve got her, I think. It’s bad.”
“Where is she?”
“Thataway somewhere.” I point.
“How the hell do you know?”
“Maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s bullshit. But I’m going for it.”
“Aren’t you going to wait for Alya and Raj?”
“No. No time.”
I start to walk towards Quinn. It’s fucking hard not to run. I know I can’t, though: that’d only attract attention and send me in a panic. Asher walks beside me. He looks way calmer than I feel. No – he feels way calmer than I feel. I can feel him. I can feel everyone on the street. I block all of that off to focus on Quinn. I manage to do it enough that when Asher speaks, his voice makes me jump.