by Scott Rhine
She took the heavy adjustable wrench off her hip and shook it. “That’s why we professionals use these. I suggest you leave before you’re charged with sabotage.” For someone known to blister hides over a loose nut, this was calm. Humming to herself and tapping her computer pad, she canceled his contract early due to nonperformance. “I’m sending the order to terminate you now.”
Bertram fled in panic.
Reuben laughed. “He’s afraid you wanted us to kill him. The station is rife with rumors about us being unscrupulous criminals and you beating subordinates.”
“Hmm.” Nothing would disturb her today. To Grady, she said, “You have a permanent job, ensign. Don’t make me sorry I chose you.”
“Sir,” he said with a salute. He got to work fixing the highlighted mistakes immediately.
That evening, Roz floated down to the common room. Then she spun playfully on a chair, something she hadn’t done since age five, when her injury had changed everything.
Ivy peeked out of their room. “You’re back.”
“Max is negotiating for some high-value cargo and a cook.” Roz’s voice went a little soft when she said his name. He was the sweetest man she had ever met.
“He said you might need my help explaining a few things. How far did he get with you yesterday?”
“Two kisses and a glorious meal.”
“About time.” Ivy gave her a wide welcome hug.
That’s when Roz noticed the freaky eyes. She jumped a little and pointed at the golden irises and slotted pupils. “Some sort of weird VD?”
“Huh? Oh, the contacts. Forgot about them. I bought them from a costume shop to spice things up a little with Reuben. We did a little role playing.” Ivy popped the lenses out while she remembered.
“TMI.”
“Step into our room for what will probably be the most important discussion of your life.”
“The sex talk? I don’t think we’re close to that stage yet.”
“I meant about your unique genetic circumstance.” Ivy pursed her lips.
“Oh, Max didn’t want to risk talking in public, but I told him the theory was ridiculous.”
Ivy led her into their room and closed the door. “First let me lay the groundwork for what caused him to go looking for zebras instead of horses in your history.” She put the contact lenses away and then handed over a photo of Roz with glasses at seventeen.
“I had surgery to get rid of those awful things when they fitted me for my first space helmet.” Roz smiled.
“You used the same picture for both your student ID and yearbook.” Ivy placed a second photo on the bed, taken for Roz’s ID at the space station. “These are the only two photos of you—in existence.”
“So? The first half of my life was outside in a field with my face covered by a breathing mask. Not many photo ops. Besides, Max dislikes cameras, too.”
“You don’t like being seen—period. Your advisor described you as the invisible woman. Other than your math classes, other students don’t even remember you.”
Roz crossed her arms. “Okay, now you’re just being mean.”
“No. I’m being accurate for a reason, and you’re being purposely dense.” Ivy paced the room. “Fine, let’s come at this a different way. Every Human child in the Union has a psi evaluation at age ten, before puberty. Science teams missed you three different times. Then your camp doctor checked the null box for them.”
“Lots of kids miss—”
“No. They don’t. In the last century, you’re the only child they missed on Napa.”
“Doesn’t mean my doctor was wrong.”
Ivy closed her eyes. “I had my sisters check your family tree. Your great grandfather’s name, Armando Mendez, was an alias. No one with that identity ever left Earth on any ship.”
“Data-entry people goof up, especially for other languages.”
“There was no photo record of his entry or papers.”
“You’re saying he was an illegal? Okay.” Roz’s voice had risen a little in volume. She struggled to resume her good mood.
Ivy raised a finger. “Illegal is just the tip of the iceberg. A hundred years ago, Union research on Nightmare was developing an assassin, not unlike our friend Max, who could slip in and out of difficult places. The program worked too well, and one of the inmates escaped—Ormondo Arnez.”
“Do you know how common names like that are in Spanish areas?” Roz asked. Spanish was one of only ten Human languages officially spoken outside Earth.
“Can you tell me how sneak suits work?” Ivy asked, shifting to the other side of Roz.
Wrinkling her brow, Roz gave the textbook answer. “The material knows that it’s being observed and adjusts the projected image to fool the viewer into believing nothing is there. As long as you don’t move too fast, you seem—invisible.”
“That’s only one application of a talent the Magi gave us. Members of elite Magi exploration teams still employ the gift to make sure other species don’t know they exist. ‘The hand of the uplifter must never be seen.’ For some reason, the mutation didn’t persist among Humans. Only about five people still possess it after the annihilation of the diplomatic ship Gandhi and the invasion of New Hawaii.”
Roz nodded slowly. “Probability Mechanics, or PM for short. When used in social networking theory, it can tell you the chances of any given event occurring in the matrix. In conjunction with the Quantum Computing talent, it can define a probability cloud of outcomes and lead the computer to the correct prediction. We use it to find failure modes in complex systems and plan around them with safety features.”
Ivy made a continuing gesture with her hands. “Does this sound similar to anything that happened to us recently, say in the quantum capacitor tubes inside the subbasement drive?”
When Roz remained mute, Ivy filled in the obvious. “I don’t have the PM talent, which is why the tubes didn’t react the same for me in later experiments.”
“But the first time—”
“You were holding my hand. You helped me see the clouds and find the answer.”
Roz blinked. “You’re saying I’ve been a talent my whole life, and my superpower has been that men won’t notice me? How come Max pays attention?”
“He’s a null with incredible mental defenses. I can’t even tell he’s alive when I’m shaking his hand. Your magical ‘pay no attention to the cute girl behind the curtain’ doesn’t affect him,” Ivy said with a grin.
“Maybe the others didn’t pay attention to me because I’m a mute.”
“Max confirmed it twice with genetic sequencing. You’re what they call a ‘sport’–a trait that lies dormant for a few generations. As the only known woman with the gift, your eggs are a national treasure.”
Now I’m a galactic-level freak. Roz shook her head. “I don’t belong to your company’s bioscience division.”
“You need to be protected. We serve all humanity, not the Llewellyn’s bank balance.”
“I’m not an assassin.”
“That’s the application that Humans twisted the gift toward. Women might manifest differently. The pure gift, the raw form, is about possibilities. The quantum energy responded to you.”
“The charge is almost gone, should be entirely by our next jump,” Roz said.
“You’ve used your talent to escape poverty and fix complex systems. Echo said your instincts about star drives are better than hers, and she’s been studying them for over a hundred years longer. She helped build this ship, and you spot failure points that weren’t even on her radar.”
Taking a deep breath, Roz asked, “So what does that mean?”
“We know why you react to subspace jumps. You see things the rest of us are blind to, honey. You may be the only one of our race who can. Combined with the new star drive, who knows what you’re capable of? Echo wants you to go over some of the physicist theories with her to see if you can visualize them as well. Max and my sisters will try to locate other mechanics to
give you exercises and pointers to develop your gift, but you’re pretty unique.”
Roz thought about Max’s reluctance. “Why isn’t Max telling me this?”
“I’ve been assigned to observe you around the clock until further notice. The Llewellyns want to study your talents to see what people may have overlooked in their need for war. Every month we’ll give you a complete brain scan and physical because in the past women with this trait have been given a strict drug regimen from the time they’re discovered. We don’t even know why they took the medication other than suppression, since some of the file is classified.”
“Why can’t Max study me that close?” Roz said.
Ivy shrugged. “He’s recused himself from the case because of unprofessional behavior.”
Roz’s ears burned. “The car accident wasn’t my fault.”
“No, honey. His conduct. You admitted yourself, he kissed you twice. He’s your superior in the ship’s command. He considers that sexual harassment.”
“We weren’t on the ship. The kisses weren’t even on the lips.”
“That the contact was welcomed will be noted on the record. Max is afraid your innocence and lack of other choices may cloud your judgment. He doesn’t want to use the power differential to influence you, especially now that you have protected status.”
Roz deflated. “So now that I’m special, he’s afraid of me? I’m too good for him? This sucks.”
Ivy put an arm around her. “If he’s the one, it’ll happen. You always accomplish your goals, but first, you need to find a copilot. Because when we do pull the great milk swindle, we’re going to need to fly out of this place like the Phibs are invading. We’ve sold all the grain we’re going to, and paying the Blue Claw Clan for those two dead Saurians ate most of our profits. Kesh said if we can leave a day ahead of schedule, we’ll earn an extra five hundred credits each. Reuben should have the designer clothing and furs loaded in a few hours.”
The new cargo choice was smart, Roz reflected. Lower density meant less fuel to burn and better maneuverability. Whatever Kesh didn’t sell at the next stop, they could use for padding around the power crystals. He certainly seemed to be accomplishing more for the team than she had. “Can I just sit here and feel sorry for myself for a while?”
“Sure,” Ivy replied. “The candidates for pilot are all off duty now. Take until tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 9 – Plausible Deniability
“They’re gathered in the pilots’ lounge,” Kesh explained, straightening his business suit as he trundled through the hall of the space station. “As far as they know, we’re interviewing for the job of shuttle pilot to pick up our last few loads from the surface.”
“But we don’t have a shuttle,” Ivy said. She wore her flame-red, thoroughly impractical, gawk-at-me heels and looked great doing it. Though Roz knew for a fact she had slept less than five hours the night before. Roz had still been sulking and pouring her woes out to Jeeves at 2:00 a.m. when Ivy stumbled back into their room.
“Still?” Roz said. “I thought you were going to fix that.”
Kesh flipped his tail in irritation, the way a cow would at a fly. “I told you cargo shuttles are very expensive, and we don’t have the funds yet.”
Roz grabbed his clawed hand. “There’s so much that could go wrong if we don’t have one.”
“We only sold half the cargo here. You worry about picking the copilot and leave the rest to me,” Kesh assured.
Outside the lounge, Ivy brought up the résumés on her computer pad. “Did you get a chance to screen the list of candidates? Any favorites?”
“Eh.” Roz waved her hand. “Any of them but that chucklehead Vern is a better pilot than me. We chased him out of Eden Station for drinking on the job. This comes down to finding the best fit personality-wise.”
“My specialty,” said Ivy, adjusting her tight skirt and lipstick for the secretary disguise. “You chat with them one at a time. The topic doesn’t matter. I’ll hang around the perimeter and listen to what they talk with each other about.” She popped in a fresh piece of gum.
The moment the door opened, Roz scanned the ten pilots relaxing in the lounge. Only four wore regulation uniforms. Vern stood behind the bar. Another pilot with dark facial hair and pointed ears caught her attention immediately. “Him.”
“So much for subtlety and avoiding stereotypes,” said Kesh. “You think just because he’s a Bat, he’s the best pilot in this place?”
“Bat starships are composed of seventy twin-Icarus-field pods. Each pod can be peeled off individually and piloted by a crew member as part of an attack wing. If he was combat-rated by the Bats, he’s in the top 10 percent of their pilots. So, yes,” replied Roz, striding toward the alien candidate. Ivy and Kesh greeted the others, shaking hands and making a pretense of fairness.
Roz held out her hands, palms up, at shoulder height as she said in crisp Banker to the lean, dark-eyed Bat, “We uplift one another. I’m Chief Engineer Shiraz Mendez”
The Bat flexed his ears forward. From his build, he obviously spent a lot of time exercising in the gym. “I heed the Voice of the Void. Call me Deke.”
“No patronymic?” Roz asked.
“Odd. Normally people ask about my missing leg and how I can cope.”
“I’ve seen you in zero-g when I was outside inspecting my vessel. You get around just fine out there.”
“I usually wear a prosthetic in the gravity areas, but I’ve had a long shift.”
“You’re avoiding my question about your name. Something you don’t want me to know?”
“I lost both my leg and second name in a crash about ten years ago,” Deke said solemnly. “Our battleship was stationed at Jotunheim until the resolution of the Gigaparsec War in order to guard the shipyards and allow the Humans to commit all their resources to planetary warfare. After peace was established, the ill-named Galactic Cup races started up again. How could it be ‘galactic’ if only Humans competed? A few of us decided to take the spare blades from our ship and enter.”
“The shuttle pods?” She had heard of multiple interchangeable computing boards in a rack being referred to as blades but never ships.
“Yes. The computer expert systems are custom-fitted to us personally. The shuttles of our people are analogous to the family swords of your ancient warriors.”
“The samurai,” Roz supplied.
“We are landed knights, sent by our territories to contribute to the common defense.”
Roz knew nothing about the government of Bat space. She would need to do her research before they crossed the border. Are they a feudal system? “How did you fare in the race?”
“My cousins finished first and second. I was passing the third-place Human when his team bumped my vessel.”
Human ships, built for up to twenty passengers, had substantial cushion for such maneuvers. Bat shuttles were more like one-man luges. Roz said, “A lesser pilot would be dead.”
“I only wish I had been.”
“Why? Did you do something wrong?”
“My captain bet a rather large sum that his men would all finish in the top four. Because he was already winning the bet, he had ordered me not to pass the Human.”
Roz snorted. “Tell him it’s called a race for a reason. I would’ve aimed for number one.”
The Bat leaned back against the bar. “Admirable sentiment, but I had no chance to speak at my court martial for disobedience. The battleship left me in a Human hospital, stripped of rank and title for losing my ship. The team that fouled me was supposed to pay for the repairs, but they declared bankruptcy. To finance my medical bills, the administrators of the race salvaged the wreckage of my family blade. The shipyards converted my precision racing craft into a secondhand grain hauler and sold it to the breeder guild. I followed it here as soon as I could move so that no other pilot would touch my blade. I’ve been working every day since, trying to repurchase the vessel. But even if I do, I’d never be able to afford tran
sport fees home. Since then I’ve tried racing for money and even won. However, I was disqualified because I wasn’t wearing two regulation boots.”
She touched her finger to the scar on her forehead. “A greedy landlord and my father’s idiot mistake left me brain mute. You don’t hear me whining.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want to sit here and boohoo, or do you want to head back home?” Deke seemed to have difficulty processing the offer. “My crew and I are heading deep into Bat territory. We could use a guide who knows Bat worlds, trade practices, and politics. If you pass the audition, that is.” Roz didn’t want to promise too much too soon. “We’ll hire you for a few days of simple cargo work first so the others can evaluate you.”
“Other than your pleasant personality and conversation in a non-Human language, why would I be interested?”
Roz jerked a thumb at Kesh and Ivy. “Because we’re going to be rich and famous. All of us are the best in our field, except we’re missing a decent pilot. You could be a part of that. Think of it. The Bats who snubbed you will have to kiss your butt to talk to us.” He smirked a little, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Given Grady’s response to the medal, she held the dolphin pin between her fingers. “My friend Max earned this. If anyone can help restore your honor, he can.”
After a moment’s hundred-meter stare, Deke replied, “You make a persuasive argument. I will meet your captain and this Max.”
The crew of The Inner Eye left the lounge together.
Kesh remained on the space station to obtain bulk discounts on souvenirs. He showed her a tiny cheese wheel and how it opened into a terabyte data device.
“Why would anyone want a Cheese Festival fob?” Roz asked.
“The novelty gives us an excuse to charge more for them in Bat space. We’ll really be selling the data we’ve placed on them,” Kesh explained.