by A. D. Bloom
The lounge's waterfall cast a constant spray of droplets into the air and the KillzAll in it stung his eyes while he followed her to one of the tables set in a half-moon of bamboo growing in planters. "What happened back there?"
"Back there? I gave him the codes to input to pass us through without a record."
"I figured that part out. That's not what I meant."
"I did what I did back there, right? I made you love me and I made the inspector hold a book in his hand and believe it was two passport cards."
"But how?"
"I believed in my mind those console commands were names and they had to be manually input. I believed it like I was pretending it myself and then, he was pretending it with me. I could have handed him a sandwich to scan and it would have worked." The possibilities flashed through his mind and he instantly distrusted her. "Don't be so paranoid," she said. "Besides, it won't work on you beyond affecting your mood. Anyone who knows it can happen and is on their guard is relatively immune. I can't make Balthus Pavic give me a raise, for instance."
"How long can you do that for?"
Something between a grin and a sneer crossed her suddenly haggard face. "It takes a fuck-ton of effort to maintain. And it always swings the other way at some point. Until you get control again."
"The other way? what's the other way."
She rolled her eyes. "Figure it out, Einstein. I charmed you by loving myself. I convinced someone of the reality I chose by believing...What's the opposite?"
"Hating yourself? And doubting?"
"Bet I looked pretty ugly to you when I laid off the charm." He hadn't really seen her until that moment. "Bet you didn't want to bang me anymore. "
He didn't know what to say to that. It was true. He'd wanted nothing more before that and then he hadn't ever wanted a woman less.
"Call it your first lesson," she said.
"Can I do what you did?"
"We'll see. You have raw talent. But that's more common than you think. The truly legendary stage performers focus what they have into a performance you feel. Musicians, too. If you ask me, what we've got is access to a standard feature on your average Human. Shit, I mean, when you 'hear' someone, even what they're thinking, you're not getting in their head. Most of the time people are just throwing their thoughts out there into the...whatever."
"You don't have a name for it? Like the aether?"
"Don't romanticize it. My point is that we're not the only ones. We're just trained. At least I am. You, on the other hand, know just enough to fuck up your game."
"How's that?"
"What am I thinking, Samhain?"
Not this again. "I don't know. You think I'm an asshole?"
That got a genuine snicker. "Nope."
"You're an asshole?"
And a real smile that time, the kind that happened despite her efforts. She gave him the briefest spark-filled glance before she turned away. "Nope."
"You're wondering where your second drink is? I don't know. You're the one that knows how to do this."
"It's all out there, Samhain, but you're only hearing what you want to. Selection bias is your major problem. Now, right here...when I ask you, you're trying too hard and things in your own mind are causing you to see what you want to see and miss what's really there. You can't try and do this. The second you try, you're fucked."
"The hell am I supposed to do?"
"Train out of it. Anything that lets you forget what you're doing is good. Anything that has a zone to get in. Take up an active hobby. Me? I play golf. Swing too hard and it just won't work. Jeorgi liked to play classical guitar. He was shit at it, but it didn't matter; putting his mind in another state was the important part. After a while, you learn the one trick, the only trick - not getting in your own way."
"I don't have time to learn golf or take up an instrument."
She reached into that bag again and came out with the sketchbook she'd shown the security inspector and placed it on the table. She had to root around in the bottom of the bag for a few more moments to find the pencil she placed on top of it.
"What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Draw. Doodle. Your file says you like to do that."
"Why?"
"It's like I said. You need an active hobby to work through your...'intent' issues and resultant selection bias. That sketchbook can't be hacked, cracked, or tracked, you can do it anywhere, and you won't piss me off with the noise like Jeorgi did."
"Who's Jeorgi?"
"The man who was exceptionally good at playing bad guitar. Take the sketchbook. From here, it's going be at least 72 hours to get to the Alcyone system and that dirtball planet of theirs. You'll want something to do for the next few days. You didn't really think I was going to fuck you all the way to Otherworld did you?" He couldn't tell if it was a joke; she'd become inscrutable in an instant. "Oh. Take these now." Scilla handed him NAU identity documents. The image was new and captured for the purpose. He was smiling in it and he didn't remember it ever being taken.
"My name is Bartholomew Nix? That's not exactly common."
"You won't forget it. I'm Cynthia Paige because they know I hate that name."
"But if you had these fake documents, then why did you pull that stunt when we came on board the station?"
"Because that sketchbook needed a first page. It's proof of what I can do and you're no different than me, Samhain. That page is proof of what you can do if you're ready to."
4
Absolom
Alpha Eridani
Devlin's Privateers didn't vent atmo for combat, but exosuits and helmets were still the order of the day. Death by internal shock waves from a warhead det wasn't the worry; there was more danger of their unarmored hulls rupturing under fire.
Ram gripped the edge of the tactical console and tried not to get in the way of Hank's XO while he reviewed the data coming from the arrays. The protections showed Absolom, Split Aces, Hotjacket, Sajjada, the Ketok, and II'ti surrounding the 450-meter Xihute hauler probably carrying resupply for enemy ships on the Long Front. Devlin's Privateers out-gunned the freighter and its two, thin-bore particle streams. Those could still cut a nasty swath through their hulls, but if all went as planned, the Xihute wouldn't get the chance to use them.
"You're not going to insist we give them a warning, are you?" said Hank from the command chair.
"Why? Do you think they'll surrender this time?"
"Not a chance."
"The section of the hull with the cargo holds won't be armored on this little one," said Millet. "That'll save time on the back end of this."
"It's not time for pillaging yet," he said. "Go ahead and give the signal to the other ships."
After a nod from Hank to Comms, the message went out. They disengaged the n-space shunts that protruded everywhere on their ships and let the freighter see them all around it, 10Ks out at the farthest. As they opened fire together on the two batteries the Xihute ship carried to defend itself, Absolom's spine shuddered with the energy of the railguns and the maneuvering thrusters' compensatory stutter.
The hyper-accelerated sabot shot from the small-bore, six-barrel railgun blocks mounted over and under the bow and impacted with flashes at the top and base of what passed for both the freighter's command tower and its engineering section. After the flashes faded, the tops of the gun towers there looked as if they'd been torn away. No atmo escaped.
Ram thumbed comms from the arm of the command chair to give the order himself. "All ships, fall back to aft, high ten and two on the target. Tell your gunners to aim for the engines and command tower only. Avoid the reactor where the tower meets the rest of the hull. I want to see hull breaches and atmo. Fire at will."
Hank said, "NAV...Tsk, put the Absolom slightly ahead of the other ships. I want a clear shot at the command tower." The Shediri acknowledged with a quick triple-click and swayed its head on its neck so all ten of its compound eyes glinted and reflected the light in a pattern of tiny, dark hexes.<
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Absolom's bow and stern gun crews took the shot. The constellation of stars that bloomed halfway up the tower flashed white hot before the alien ship jetted molten metal and firestorm like a geyser. After two seconds, it had barely abated. "We breached something or cooked it off with the firestorm."
"Gammas?"
"No reactor spikes that I can read. And I know what they look like."
"All ships, hold your fire." Ram said.
"Keep an eye on those emissions."
"Xihute reactors aren't as touchy as ours," insisted Millet.
"They're all touchy if you shoot them full of holes."
"All ships, maintain a distance of at least 2 Ks from the Xihute hauler while we send the boarding party to open up the hold."
Four minutes later, Ram heard Millet swearing under his breath as the boarding party sent first assessments. "It's not war materiel," he said. "It's drive-coil grade Cynium they found in there. They say we'll only be able to fit half of it in our holds to take home."
They all heard the series of chimes, but it didn't register on anyone until Hank's Comms officer said, "Message coming in over our Q-linked relay at Alcyone." The message had been bounced off a remote proxy on the edge of the broken planetoid rubble rings of the Alcyone system's eighth planet and reached them with a seven-hour delay. "Sending to your chair, Captain Devlin."
"Who's that from?" Ram asked.
"A source."
"What source?"
"My source."
Hank didn't try to hide it. As he read, the message appeared projected over the arm of the chair. Ram had to read it backwards before Hank shook his head and quietly laughed as he flicked the display around with his finger to face his father. "This was sent over seven hours ago. These are orders to fetch one Lt. Martin Samhain signed by Balthus Pavic himself. My source says they're sending him to us. He has a message for you. And he was Gellanden's student. He's supposed to be a gesture of good will."
"Samhain..."
"Yes, that Samhain. Son of Eugene Samhain, the unfortunate revolutionary."
"I see."
"This man is clearly working for company intelligence and we should avoid him," said Hank.
"We're still taking him. If he was really Gellanden's student then he's a gift."
"He's a trap.
"We need what Gellanden was onto."
"That's one part of the trap," insisted Hank. "The other half is that he's Eugene Samhain's boy. Have you considered the notion that all this was leaked to us and he's really coming to kill you? He's the orphan son of the last man to lead a failed revolt and now he works for Staas. Don't give the enemy your ear; that's what I say. Martin Samhain is a dangerous artifact. By choosing this man as his messenger, Pavic is trying to point out to us the futility of our fight and undermine our resolve, yours most specifically. This is an attack."
"I know."
"Then it's an easy attack to counter. I'll kill Martin Samhain and we can find another exoanthropologist to pick up where Dr. Gellanden was before they killed him."
"I want him alive. What Gellanden was onto may very well be worth the risk. A piece of functional Weirdling technology could be the edge we need."
"It's a trap."
"We finish up here and go home. But I want you and Absolom to get Martin Samhain for me."
"That will be a trap too."
"If it is, you'll spot it and avoid it. We can't wait until he comes to Otherworld. Pavic's people will have an entire surveillance and tracking infrastructure in place to keep an eye on Martin Samhain once he gets close to the planet. I want to you to intercept the liner he's traveling on, the Andrea Laguna." Ram stepped to the NAV console and brought up a map from the far side while the Shediri navigator hissed involuntarily.
"Even Tsk thinks this is a bad idea."
"I thought you wanted to be a pirate? Intercept them here," Ram said, pointing to the place where they'd be most isolated on their route. "Here, when they've entered Aragosa and they're making for the Aragos-EC115 transit. Only the pleasure liners ride that lane and she'll be the only one in-system."
"What about Staas Company patrols and UNS destroyers?"
"You'll elude them. And one more thing. When you pick up Samhain, nobody gets hurt. Give the passengers and crew something to talk about, but no casualties. No robberies either."
"I know you don't want public opinion to shift against us," agreed Hank. "But the crew of that liner have to believe I'll use lethal force. I need fear on my side. Fear is what assures I won't have to kill anyone."
"Get Martin Samhain. Bring him to the region where Gellanden was working. Encourage him to find what Gellanden discovered. Do it nicely, Hank."
"And after that? You can't very well let him go."
"You let me worry about that."
5
ICV Andrea Laguna, Aragosa System
For the last two days, Samhain's view of the Andrea Laguna had been restricted to what he could see from the first-class cabin's panoramic window. The ten-meter expanse of crystal-pane that extended across the suite nearly floor to ceiling was, in fact, tougher than the doped belt-iron steel of the liner's hull, but seeing the engine flares of even distant ships cross the vacuum nearby made him feel exposed, like bait left out for a trap.
The topside of the hull glittered with light from porthole windows and observation domes. Under the largest, set in the center of the hull, the green felt tables spotted the floor, surrounded by dinner jackets and evening gowns like specs of pepper and salt. That was the casino, of course. The floor was on the same level as the base of the observation dome and from the edge of the casino they looked down onto the flashing lights of the three clubs, the restaurants, and the crystal promenade.
The Andrea Laguna had been made for short luxury cruises and her spacious compartments fed and entertained thousands as they ran the interstellar transits from one system to another on the way to vacation destinations like Otherworld, where the walled beaches on the Northern continents had plenty of servants and the security was good enough for people from Earth with something to lose.
Staas Company printed her plates and cut her welds at the Deimos Lagrange Shipyards, but the moment the engines had been fitted, she steamed back from Mars and hung in orbit over at the right altitude to let the mirror finish of her sides reflect the sun for the world to see. The Andrea Laguna orbited over the Earth showing herself off for eighteen months while dying crafts were revived just to decorate her interior in the opulent style of the historical greats. He hadn't seen a bit of it yet.
"We've been cooped up hiding in this cabin for two days and you still haven't taught me anything I can use. Can't I make my enemies' heads explode or something?"
Scilla was out of sight in the suite's bedroom, but he heard enough of her laugh to tell she was only half-amused - like it was only half a joke to her. She stepped into the frame of the french doors wearing a robe and drying her hair with a towel. "You? You'd probably make your own head explode by mistake. Besides, the rough stuff...that's not for Martin Samhain."
"What's the worst that could happen? What? I feel really nice after it's over?"
"It doesn't work like that. That stuff is something completely different than what little I've shown you. What you're talking about...it's like drinking water from a poisoned well."
"The hell does that mean?"
"That kind of violence....you can't do it without reaching inside and leveraging a part of you that's...dangerous. That part of you has a mind of its own. You'll have power. And you'll know success. But...it's expensive." What she'd said hadn't made any sense to him, but when she said it, there was a sadness in her voice. A regret that flared into anger in a flash and scared him. "It'll mess you up, Samo."
"Not for a nice kid like me huh?"
"Don't mock me. You want a lesson in something you can use? Okay."
Three of her nine pieces of four-legged luggage hadn't been herded into the bedroom section of the suite. Those were th
e trunks that contained her gear. Most of the space inside two of them was taken up by a pair of exosuits, but the third, she hadn't yet opened. As she tied the belt of her bathrobe in a square knot, she strode to that trunk now with chilling purpose in her stride. She tapped it so it's plaid halves cracked open for her.
The pair of engraved and inlaid shotguns could be explained by her love of sport, of course. They'd been secured in the same rack as a steel shafted 7-iron, a putter, a 3-wood, a sheathed saber, and two, burnished pieces of wood the same shape and size as the sword next to it. He honestly didn't know which she'd reach for and in the last moment where her hand and eye had not yet reveled which of those implements she would choose, he found himself amused by this without understanding why. The amusement belonged to Scilla. He understood this as she gripped a wooden saber in each hand and freed them from the rack.
"I don't know how to...fence?" Samhain said. "I don't even know what you call it with those kinds of swords."
"Fencing," she said as she tossed one to him.
He caught it with one hand and was immediately surprised at the density of the hardwood. "I thought you were into golf."
"Why waste a good swing? You should see me hit a baseball." She kicked the gilded Louis chairs sliding across the carpet towards the doors along with a coffee table that wasn't good for anything but hitting his knees. That gave them an open square of space in the middle of the suite without moving the sectional couches. "What is that about 4, no...5 meters of free space to swing in? It's going to be tight."
"I can't fence."
She stepped to the center of their small ring, set her feet in narrow-width echelon, and took a stance that wasn't unfamiliar to Samhain who'd studied a little boxing. She put more of her weight on her back foot, but still looked nimble. "Get out here. Do like me."
Once he'd found the position, she knocked his sword to the side with the flat of her blade so hard that the sound was like a gunshot in the enclosed space. "Cozy in here," she said.