Stars Uncharted

by S. K. Dunstall

  “And I’m still waiting for that security feed.”

  If she wiped the feed, Wickmore would know something was wrong, whereas now he only suspected. She turned back to the console.

  “Perhaps I could help,” Comantra said. “Our Songyans send an aural and visual feed to the link. I have the overrides that could read it.”

  It was worse than Alejandro punching her in the stomach. The Songyan engineer.

  She’d never buy another Songyan.

  Well, she would, because there was nothing better on the market, but she’d make them work hard for the sale.

  If she stayed alive long enough to buy another genemod machine. She was starting to doubt she would.

  “Do it.”

  Nika forced down the impulse to order him away from her machine. Her fingers closed around the detonator in her pocket.

  “If you destroy the exchanger—now that people know it exists—will your career survive the backlash?”

  Wickmore was an executive at Eaglehawk, but executives could be sacked. It was rare, and Nika didn’t think losing the exchanger would be a career-destroying blow, but she could pretend that she thought it was.

  “We could work together on this. Leave the machine here, at least until someone reproduces the exchanger successfully.” As if they could. “I’m interested in a long-term career. I know how it works. With my knowledge of the exchanger, we can work together.”

  She looked up to see Wickmore smiling at her. A true smile, something she’d never seen from him before. It changed the light on his face and dropped his apparent age by ten years. She could work with a face like that. Even with the SaStudio teeth.

  “Well said, Alejandro.” Then he added, more softly, “If you are indeed Alejandro.”

  If she was Alejandro? What had given her away?

  “Let’s see what happens, shall we?”

  Comantra coughed. “If you’re ready, I’m pushing the feed through now.”

  Nika bit down on what she wanted to say.

  On the screen, Alejandro said, “Don’t think you can dupe me.”

  Nika stared blindly at the feed, aware Wickmore watched with her. She was out of options. The laser was on the bench. It would take valuable seconds to get to it. Then what? There were six people in the room with her, five of them armed.

  “Fascinating,” Comantra murmured, as he watched Nika and Alejandro don the nets. He looked at the Songyan bed, at the controller.

  Nika couldn’t help her involuntary twitch.

  How did she get out of this? Or did she accept that she couldn’t?

  “This is still connected,” Comantra said.

  On the screen above them, Tamati’s knife entered Nika’s Alejandro-controlled body.

  “Kill the body and your brain reverts back to your own,” Tamati said.

  Wickmore moved over to the Songyan’s controls. “But it didn’t, did it? Nika Rik Terri in Alejandro’s body. That could be interesting.” He touched the controls. “What happens if I turn this off?”

  Comantra pushed him away, knocking the box of nodes Nika used to link to the controller off the bench as he did so. “Don’t. You could kill them both. We don’t know how this works.”

  He realized what he’d done, choked off an apology, and dropped to the floor, scrabbling for the tiny nodes. Nika thought he might have done it to get out of Wickmore’s line of fire, because the back of his neck was white.

  “I have the codes,” Nika reminded Wickmore. “Turn that off and you’ll kill me. Alejandro’s already brain-dead.”

  It was her and Wickmore, staring each other out, and then Wickmore laughed. “So do I, now, modder. So do I.” He glanced up at the screen, where Nika—in Alejandro’s body—was frantically telling Josune not to shoot. “You said them aloud to Alejandro. We have the feed.”

  On the floor Comantra bumped his head as he started to stand up. She barely heard him say, “That’s interesting.”

  Comantra used the edge of the Songyan to pull himself up. “You can’t turn this machine off. She’s customized everything. There’s even added connections underneath. We don’t know what they do.” He held up one of the explosive devices.

  Wickmore stilled for a second that felt like an hour. “Kill her,” he ordered. “Then get out.”

  He ran for the door.

  Yes, he knew what that add-on did.

  Nika was out of ideas, and out of time.

  She pressed the button as the first blaster burned a molten hole in her chest.

  42

  JOSUNE ARRIOLA

  The docks were busier than they had been earlier.

  Josune looked around. “I don’t like this. Media’s here, too,” as reporters, surrounded by camera drones, ran past them. Headed the same direction they were—toward the ships.

  She glanced at the Dekker, still shrouded with the tablecloth the chef had provided. They had to get it out of sight before anyone asked questions. “Don’t like this at all.”

  “Me either.” Roystan frowned at the genemod machine. “We need to get off the streets. Where can we take this?”

  The police had their images, and probably their names. The best they could do was slip away. And cover Snow’s hair, which was a distinctive color.

  “Snow, lend me your sling. I need to cover your hair.”

  They’d be looking for a redhead. Nika would make the hair covering look as if it was designed to be fashionable. All Josune hoped was that it would buy them some time.

  He handed it over.

  Josune moved to tie it around his head, only to bump into two more reporters.

  One of them stopped and did a double take. “Snowshoe Bertram.”

  Snow lost any color he’d had, and he hadn’t had much to start with. “Banjo.” It was more of a choke than a word.

  Banjo grabbed Snow’s arm. Thankfully, his good arm. “Bertram, by all that’s wonderful.” He dragged the shocked youth over to the other reporter. “Linnie. This is him. This is my modder.”

  “Doesn’t look like a modder.” Linnie’s accent said she came from money.

  Banjo reached for him again.

  Snow flinched back.

  “Careful.” Josune softened the rebuttal with an apology. “He’s hurt, took a fall. Sandrawall climbing. Broke his arm. Hasn’t had time to repair it.”

  “Oh, you do Sandrawalling.” Linnie’s eyes sparkled. “I love climbing.”

  Josune turned away. Nika would have known if the sparkling eyes were real or a mod.

  Snow muttered something that might have been “It was my first time.”

  “Not that Banjo doesn’t look good.” Linnie waved a hand dismissively. “But I told him. People like us. We look good naturally. It’s only tweaks and fashion for us.”

  Snow and Banjo shared a look that Linnie would never, in all her years, ever comprehend.

  Snow sighed, then seemed to relax. “Let me look at you.” He turned to Banjo. “I didn’t get a chance to see the finished you, before I had to leave.”

  Roystan and Josune both laughed out loud, although Roystan did clap a hand to his mouth.

  “He is such a chip off the old block,” Roystan said, when Linnie looked at him. “Fast learner, too.”

  Carlos and Jacques eased the Dekker past. Josune and Roystan stood between the machine and the reporters.

  Snow walked around Banjo. “Not bad.”

  “Not bad,” Banjo declared. “It’s brilliant, and you know it.”

  “Maybe,” Snow agreed. His eyes flicked to the box holding Nika’s body.

  They didn’t have time for this. “Shouldn’t you be over there?” Josune indicated the growing crowd over at the shuttle gates.

  Banjo snorted. “Big-time media’s over there. We can only hang around the fringes, won’t even get close.” He
took Snow’s arm again, carefully this time. “This is more important.” He leaned close, whispered. “I kept your shop safe. Everything’s there. Everything’s as it was. You can fix your arm.”

  Josune heard him only because she was right behind Snow.

  “Actually, we were just—”

  An explosion deafened them all. Josune spun around. A cloud of black smoke rose above the rooftops. She knew the sound of a bomb going off. Knew where it had gone off.

  Banjo watched the black cloud. “That’s over toward Salamander Street. Linnie. Quick. This could be our scoop.” He turned back to Snow. “Everything’s there. Got to go.”

  The two reporters were gone, almost before Banjo had finished speaking.

  “Salamander Street,” Snow whispered. He started to shake.

  Josune knew what he was thinking. She was thinking it herself, and she’d set the bombs. “We need to get out of sight, Snow. Where’s your studio?”

  “It’s not far.” He turned blindly and led the way. Jacques and Carlos followed with the Dekker. Josune walked with Snow, while Roystan stayed on point behind.

  Roystan stopped not much later. “Snow.” He put out a hand to stop Carlos, who was closest.

  Snow kept walking. Josune tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, back at the corner, at Roystan.

  “Oh.” He turned down the street.

  The studio was four doors down.

  43

  JOSUNE ARRIOLA

  When they finally reached the dubious haven of the studio, Roystan was ready to fall. Josune handed him another protein bar, the last of her pocket supplies.

  She turned to Snow, who looked to be in shock. “Can you check Nika?” Giving him something to do might bring him out of it.

  Snow’s teeth chattered. “What if she’s d-dead?”

  Josune had no idea. They’d gotten her into the machine in time, according to Nika. She’d also said that the minds switched back after twenty-four hours, provided there was a mind to return to. She hadn’t said what would happen if one of them died. Who was going to come out of the box?

  If it was Alejandro, she would have to kill him. It wasn’t something she looked forward to. Not while he was in Nika’s body.

  Josune pulled the cloth off the Dekker. “Nika knows what she’s doing.”

  Nika’s body was twitching.

  Snow raised a hand to his mouth. “She’s not supposed to do that.”

  Red dots flickered over the console controls. Josune had no idea what they meant.

  “She’s awake.” Snow frantically pushed at the controls with his good hand. “I don’t understand half these alarms. This shouldn’t be happening.”

  The lights remained red.

  “I can’t get the calibrator to balance.” He gave a strangled laugh. “Nika will kill me.”

  More likely Josune was going to kill Nika. Literally. “How long before she comes out of the machine?”

  “She lost a lot of blood, but that doesn’t take long to fix. It depends how far her system shut down.”

  Which wasn’t an answer.

  “She shouldn’t have flooded the Dekker. It’s dangerous. And stupid. She’ll drown in the fluid. I need to run proper diagnostics.” Snow ran over to the other genemod machine and started setting it up. “I have to move her.”

  “You can’t. You said she’s awake. And she said not to touch her.”

  “She’ll die if I don’t. Trust me on this.”

  Who was more likely to be right? Nika or Snow?

  The Dekker pinged, then sounded a klaxon blare that could only be a warning. Snow swung around. The liquid surrounding Nika expelled onto the floor in a gurgling whoosh. The lid opened.

  Nika sat up, coughing up clear liquid. She leaned over the side of the Dekker, almost fell out, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It worked.”

  She sounded surprised.

  Josune swallowed bile and pulled out her blaster. Nika, or was it Alejandro, wasn’t armed. It didn’t matter. Killing someone in cold blood wasn’t something she’d done before, not something she wanted to do now.

  But she had to be sure.

  Roystan moved to the other side of the Dekker, his own weapon out. “What worked?”

  “Getting my body into a machine within fifteen minutes, so my brain survived, so I wouldn’t be brain-dead.” Nika waved a hand at the mess, at the Dekker, at herself. “It’s not something you can test, you know.” She swung her feet over the side of the mod machine and fell.

  Snow closed his mouth with a snap. “How did you—?”

  Josune lifted her blaster, her other hand going to the sparker hidden beneath her shirt.

  “Prove who you are.”

  Carlos stepped carefully through the liquid. “Here. Can’t have you getting cold.” He wrapped the tablecloth around her.

  “Thank you, Carlos. Proof. Right. Is Giwari enough?” Nika looked around the studio. “Snow, why aren’t you in the Netanyu? Your arm is broken.”

  Josune holstered her blaster. She was Nika, all right. “How long have you been conscious?”

  Nika shuddered. “Since I—when Alejandro’s body—died. When we all blew up, I suppose.”

  “You can’t get out of a genemod machine yourself,” Snow said. “It’s impossible.”

  Nika pointed to a large button set into the side. “You can in a Dekker.” She looked with distaste at the machine. “If I never see another Dekker in my life I’ll be happy.”

  * * *

  • • •

  After that, things quieted down. Nika insisted on supplies for the genemod machine. Jacques insisted on food. They ordered both.

  Josune and Nika sat by the door, waiting for the deliveries.

  “What will you do?” Nika asked. “If we get away. We can’t go out looking like our wanted posters, and Snow needs time in a machine. He doesn’t have enough supplies to do a good job.”

  Josune noticed she said if, not when they got away. She glanced at Roystan, dozing beside her, and lowered her voice. “That depends on him.”

  Hammond Roystan, aka Roy Goberling.

  “All my life I’ve chased this dream. For the last eight weeks, it’s been standing in front of me.” She didn’t know what to do anymore. “I don’t know what to think, Nika.”

  It wasn’t the running. Or the fighting. She’d spent ten years on the Hassim fighting. She’d followed Feyodor to find transurides. But Hammond Roystan wasn’t Taki Feyodor. She’d follow Roystan because she . . . because she wanted to. Yet Roystan had said exploring was a waste of time.

  “Maybe he’ll go with you if you ask him.”

  She blinked hard. She hadn’t cried for years, and she wasn’t going to start now. She shook her head. She had no future with Roystan. He had no use for her. And she couldn’t betray the one thing that would get Roystan hunted again. It wouldn’t just be Eaglehawk after him, it would be every one of the Big Twenty-Seven, and hundreds of smaller companies, too. Roystan would be running forever.

  He was so tired of running, he’d said.

  “He’ll never ask me. He knows what I represent.”

  Roystan got quietly to his feet. He hadn’t been asleep. Josune’s face flamed.

  He went via the coffee machine and poured three coffees, then brought them over. “I don’t know where it is, Josune. I don’t remember.”

  She’d been chasing something so unimportant to him, he’d forgotten it.

  “I remember who I am.” Roystan sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “I remember my early life. I remember Brown Combine. I remember Jed Brown.”

  Jed Brown and Roy Goberling had been best friends.

  “I remember being hunted. Running, all the time. I remember Taki Feyodor when she was younger than you, and just as determined.” He looked at Nika. “I remem
ber Gino Giwari. I wanted it all to stop. I thought that if I had no memory of it, it would all go away. Gino said he could do that. Wipe my memory.

  “I don’t remember anything related to transurides. I don’t remember those trips, but I know the verse on the outside of the ship. I don’t know where the ship went, but I know I had an apartment at Pisces III and I always started out from there.”

  The coffee was bitter on Josune’s tongue.

  “Selective forgetting,” Nika said. “Giwari played around with that early in his career. Until it was banned as too dangerous. That’s when he moved his specialty to modifying the genome.”

  She tapped her mug, an unconscious beat. “No one does genemods anymore. Even Giwari is largely discredited now. I used his techniques to fix bad mods. I came to believe he was only a technician.”

  Josune looked at Roystan. He wasn’t looking at her, he was staring into his coffee.

  “Giwari had a shop on Pisces III,” Roystan said.

  “Studio.”

  “I used to go there a lot. I don’t remember why; I just remember going.” He looked up. “I don’t remember our first meeting.”

  Nika nodded. “The transurides are important. I’m sure of that. It must have cost you a fortune every time you came to Tilda.”

  He inclined his head.

  “You’re not aging. Your cells are not degrading; they’re reproducing in their entirety every time. That has to be due to the mods of the telomeres at the end of your cells.”

  Josune was sure that meant something to Nika. It didn’t to her.

  The buzz at the door made them all jump.

  Josune checked the exterior cameras. The delivery drone. A second drone, with the genemod supplies, arrived behind it.

  They let Nika collect the packages, while Roystan and Josune stood guard, and then went over each one carefully, checking for bugs.

  Josune couldn’t find any.

  “Snow.” Nika shook him awake.

  He stared at her, glassy-eyed.

  “You want to set your own mod?”

  He stood up, still so much asleep that Josune wondered if Nika should let him do it.