“This isn’t personal,” Jessica snaps. “This is science. This is about independent verification of experimental results.”
“You’ve seen the result.” Alisa points at the cockpit door. “We made a life.”
“You made a sick child,” Jessica says. “What’s wrong with him?”
“We don’t know,” Rich says.
“You had him in an MTI rig. You were treating him.”
“What the hell is MTI, anyway?” I ask.
“Multifocal transcranial inducer,” Jessica recites, still staring at Alisa. “State of the art for diagnosis and treatment of chronic mental illness. I’m guessing it’s something congenital?”
Alisa’s arms are folded tight across her chest. “Have you ever tried to clone a human being? It’s not as easy as it looks.”
“He’s five years old,” I say. “State’s been running this project for over a decade. That means—”
“Yeah,” Alisa says. “You don’t want to know what we went through before we succeeded.”
“You haven’t succeeded,” Jessica snaps. “What’s wrong with his brain?”
“We’re closing in on a diagnosis—”
“You don’t even know?”
“They appear to be psychogenic nonepileptic seizures,” Rich says. “We haven’t been able to pinpoint the cause, but we’re able to treat the symptoms using noninvasive stimulation.”
“How bad?” Jessica asks.
Alisa raises a finger. “You don’t know this patient’s full history. If you’re going to do a proper consult—”
“Hold on,” I say. Something just clicked in my head. “He was born on the Moon. Joey’s never left the Moon.”
Alisa’s mouth curls up on one side. “He’s the first Lunar native. Too bad we can’t tell anyone.”
“Why here?” I ask. “Why not an asteroid, or a Jovian satellite? Why hide on the Moon? There are millions of other people here, civilians—”
“There’s infrastructure. State didn’t want us too far away, just in case something did go wrong. The Moon’s only a few hours from Earth orbit, in case there was some kind of medical emergency, or some other critical situation we couldn’t resolve independently. We could mitigate his exposure to higher gravity if we needed to.”
“Nine years,” I say, feeling lightheaded again. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“It’s not personal, Kangaroo,” Alisa says.
“It’s a little hard not to take it personally when someone clones you.”
“I mean they would have done it with anyone,” she says. “Anyone who showed up on the agency’s doorstep with a superpower. State isn’t in the business of being nice to people. State is in the business of protecting our national interests. And learning more about the pocket has always been the priority.”
“You mean the second priority,” I say.
“What are you talking about?”
“The first priority was training me to use the pocket for field missions, right?”
Alisa gives me a look that breaks my heart.
“You wanted that, Kangaroo,” she says softly. “You and Lasher. State never wanted to risk you in the field. That’s why you weren’t in the war.”
My head starts spinning. I knew Paul was trying to protect me, but—
“They wanted a fucking backup copy of me?” I say.
“I’m sorry, Kangaroo,” Alisa says, and for the first time, I believe her. “But we’re all on the same side here. We’re all working toward the same goal.”
“And what the hell is that goal?” I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to fucking cry in front of her.
“The more we understand about the pocket,” she says, “the better we can help you figure out how to live without it.”
I frown. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She opens her mouth at the same time my eye starts flashing an alarm. I hold up my hand before she can speak.
“Shit,” I say, remembering why I set that alarm.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“That’s the timer.”
“Timer for what?”
“Time to let the prisoner out,” Jessica says.
Alisa frowns. “What prisoner?”
* * *
We check in with Khan and come up with a plan for dealing with Scorpion. Joey seems pretty happy to stay in the cockpit with Hong and Alisa, but I pull a toffee-and-chocolate candy bar out of the pocket and give it to Alisa, just in case she needs to bribe the kid at some point. If a sweet tooth is hereditary, I’m pretty sure he’ll like it.
Khan joins the rest of us in the cargo area. A few minutes later, we’re ready to receive ‘Scorpion.’
Rich, Khan, and I are holding spare bulkhead panels in front of us like shields. They’re designed to be welded onto the spacecraft in case of hull breaches, and should be thick enough to stop any bullets. We’ve arranged ourselves up against one wall of the cabin, with me facing the wall, Khan on my left, and Rich on my right, making a rectangular opening between us and the wall.
I’m going to open the portal in that gap, and as soon as our mystery guest pops out we’re all going to rush him and hold him in place there. Then, once we’ve got him pinned down, Rich is going to step back and Jessica is going to step in and smash Scorpion’s helmet visor and spray a suppression compound in his face. Hopefully before he can shoot her. But hey, she volunteered for that spot. We’re counting on the element of surprise to be on our side anyway.
“Ready?” I ask my partners in crime.
They reply in the affirmative. I count down from five and then open the pocket.
I can’t see through my shield—even with my eye sensors, this material is designed for spacecraft, so it’s radiation-opaque—so the only way I know Scorpion has come out is when his weight thumps against me. I close the pocket and shout when that happens, and we all rush forward, clanging our shields against his spacesuit. Sounds like the suit is armored. I hope the helmet visor isn’t too tough for Jessica to shatter with the tactical baton I pulled.
Rich calls out just before he steps back, and Jessica moves into the gap between his shield and mine immediately. Scorpion is facing away, and Jessica gets behind him before he turns and starts firing his rifle into the cabin. She cracks his helmet and sprays him before he can get off a second burst. I hear a hideous screech as he drops the rifle and claws at his face, which must now be both lacerated from the broken helmet visor shards and burning from the suppression compound.
Rich drops his shield and picks up the assault rifle from the floor. Khan and I also toss our shields aside, and Jessica steps out of the way as we move in to grab Scorpion’s arms and pull him to the deck. It’s like we’re doing a little dance. A very poorly choreographed, very violent dance, with dangerous chemicals and bullets as props.
My heart is still pounding after we wrestle Scorpion to the ground and he stops convulsing. Jessica leans over him and sprays a negating compound in his face to stop the burning sensation he must be feeling. I look closer and realize—
“This is a woman,” I say out loud.
The woman opens her eyes and blinks at us. “Yeah, no shit,” she says, her voice still modulated to a growl. “Are you single, asshole? Looking for a date?”
“I’m not sure how to respond to that,” I say.
“She’s probably not your type,” Khan says.
“Let’s get this helmet off and clean her up,” Jessica says.
Rich holds the assault rifle muzzle less than a meter from the woman’s face while we strip off her spacesuit and restrain her to a bench against the wall. She doesn’t struggle while Jessica brushes the bits of shattered visor from her face and sprays some ointment over the small cuts. Her undershirt is sleeveless, and there are scorpions tattooed on both shoulders—one red, one green. She really committed to her merc handle.
On general principle, I blink my eye into scan mode and check her for any hidden weapons. She’s got some communications im
plants—shoulder-phone, satellite antenna, subdermal microphone and earpiece—but nothing that looks dangerous.
“Thanks,” Scorpion says when Jessica’s done treating her. Her voice is still a modulated growl. I exchange a surprised look with Khan.
“That’s your real voice?” I ask.
Scorpion scowls at me. “Throat cancer. Figured if I was going to get a synthetic voicebox, I might as well sound like a badass. What’s your fucking excuse?”
“Okay,” Khan says, stepping between us. “We need to ask you some questions.”
“Fuck off,” Scorpion says. “That’s my answer.”
“No,” Khan says, “that’s not how this is going to work.”
She grabs Scorpion’s left thumb and twists it. The woman howls in pain and tries to head-butt Khan. Khan dodges and grabs Scorpion’s right wrist and presses into it with her own thumb. The howls of pain get louder, then subside to whimpering.
“This is how it’s going to work,” Khan says. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer as truthfully as you’re able to. Got it?”
“Fuck … you…”
“What’s your name?”
“Fuck—”
Khan does something that must hurt even more. Scorpion goes silent, and her entire body is trembling now.
“Khan,” Jessica says before I can chime in. “Maybe there’s a better way.”
Khan releases the woman and steps back. “We don’t have much time.”
Rich is still holding the weapon on Scorpion. Jessica pulls up a cargo box and sits down facing the woman.
“Hi,” Jessica says. “I’m Dr. Chu. Are you feeling okay? I want to make sure Khan didn’t do any permanent damage.”
Scorpion glowers at Jessica. “Oh, are you the good cop, then? Am I supposed to get all doe-eyed ’cause you’re a fucking hottie? Maybe lift your skirt and show me the goods, maybe then I’ll be interested, you cunt.”
Jessica, to her credit, doesn’t even blink at this. “Okay. We do it the hard way.”
She moves faster than I expected, slapping an injector slug onto the side of the woman’s neck. Scorpion struggles, but with her arms tied down, she can’t get the slug off. A moment later, she shudders and slumps back against the wall of the cabin.
“That’s better,” Jessica says. “Now, tell me your name.”
“Jane Doe,” the woman says, “you fucking bitch.”
“Truth serum?” Khan asks.
“Yeah,” Jessica replies. “Sometimes it works better than others.”
“Maybe give it a minute to sink in?” I ask. I’ve used this stuff before. It usually works better if the target’s self-control has already been softened up by alcohol or other controlled substances.
“I know what I’m doing,” Jessica snaps. “Let’s try this again, friend. Tell me your name.”
The woman looks at Jessica with heavy-lidded eyes. “My name is Jane Doe.”
Jessica sighs. “Or maybe it’s not working at all.”
“No, it’s working,” I say. I’ve turned on my eye’s medical scanners, and I can tell the woman—Jane—has calmed down, and she’s not showing any of the physiological signs of deception. “Jane, what’s your merc handle?”
“Scorpion,” Jane replies.
“One big happy mercenary family,” I say, and nod at Jessica. “Go ahead.”
“Who hired you to do this job?” she asks Jane.
“Belter,” Jane says, using the slang term for a permanent resident of the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. “Charlie Angel. Middleman. Connects buyers and vendors.”
“Boy, you mercs sure have fun with your handles,” I say.
Khan turns to me. “You think that’s an alias?”
“‘Charlie Angel’? Uh, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Come on. Charlie’s Angels?” Everyone gives me blank stares. “Really? Private detective show, hugely popular for years? Jaclyn Smith, Cheryl Ladd, Kate Jackson? Come on, nobody else has heard of this?” Clearly I’m the only one who took advantage of a huge digital library of twentieth-century entertainment vids during puberty.
Khan turns to Jessica. “Does he do this a lot?”
“Just log the name, Kangaroo,” Jessica says.
“Fine.” I blink up my agency data link and queue up a search for when we get back into radio coverage. Maybe it is a real name. Maybe it’ll lead us to some other terrorists. If nothing else, the agency can roll the middleman for more information.
“Who else are you working with, Jane?” Jessica asks.
“My mother.”
That’s odd. I would have expected “yo momma” instead.
“What’s your mother’s name?” Jessica asks.
Jane’s neck muscles tighten before she answers through clenched teeth, like she’s trying to keep the information from escaping. “Gladys Löwenthal.”
“WHAT,” I say, “IN THE ACTUAL FUCK.”
Jessica holds up a hand. “Do you mind?”
“ACTUAL FUCK,” I repeat. “I AM DONE.” I can’t take any more of these surprises. I start pacing the cabin to distract myself.
“What was the plan?” Jessica asks Jane Doe.
“Mod a rock and … throw it at Shackleton,” Jane says, still glassy-eyed. “Wait for you to evacuate base. Send in the spiders. Capture … base personnel.”
“So you were just supposed to intercept our evacuation?” Khan asks. “Nothing more?”
“Buyer wanted a specific retrieval,” Jane says. “Wanted to find … Dr.… Alisa Garro and her secret project. Didn’t tell us what it was. But it was worth a lot of money to him.”
“Shit,” Jessica says. She’s right. Not even Paul knew Alisa Garro was on the Moon. If Sakraida’s behind this, that means he cracked some heavy-duty encryption on the files he stole from Intel. How many other secrets does he also have access to now?
“What were your orders after completing the retrieval?” Khan asks.
“Rendezvous with Charlie to deliver the doctor and her project. Get paid,” Jane says. “Guess that’s not gonna happen now.”
“Okay,” Khan says, nodding to Jessica, “we’re done here.”
Jessica slaps another slug onto the side of Jane’s neck, and her eyelids close and her body slumps to one side. She starts snoring almost immediately.
“That’s going to be pleasant to listen to for the next few hours,” I grumble.
The cockpit door slides open, bringing us the sound of Joey wailing like a banshee.
“Rich,” Alisa says, “we need to set up the MTI.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Moon—farside
5 minutes is a long time to listen to a screaming kid in a small enclosed space
Not even the offer of a second candy bar can stop Joey’s wailing. It takes Rich and Jessica way too long to set up the MTI rig—it’s bulky and takes up most of the width of the compartment—and endless minutes for Alisa to power up the machine and start the treatment program. Joey finally quiets down when the plexi dome over his head starts flexing and rippling, pressing electrodes against different parts of his head in sequence.
“How often does he have pain during the seizures?” Jessica asks.
“Never,” Alisa says. “It only started after we put him in the pocket.”
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Rich says, sounding more excited than I feel he should. “Your brain controls portal formation, but maybe something in the pocket universe also affects your brain. Or his brain, because it’s the same! You know?”
“Let’s talk about this later,” I say. I’m really not looking forward to all the new tests Science Division is sure to want to perform on me in the very near future.
“The basic anodyne program seems to be working for now,” Alisa says.
“For now?” Jessica repeats.
“He’s five years old,” Alisa says. “His brain’s still developing. We have to adjust his treatment every few days to rema
p neuronal hotspots.”
“How much time is he spending in the chair?”
“He’s fine.”
“You can’t do this with just two people,” Jessica says. “The research alone—”
“Hey, it’s not my call, okay?” Alisa says. “You think you can talk some sense into State, be my guest.”
“Well, it does look like things will change now,” Rich says. “I mean, we’ll have to relocate, at the very least. Dr. Chu, maybe you’d consider joining our team? Or consulting every once in a while?”
“Rich,” Alisa snaps. “Let’s focus on keeping Joey alive right now.”
Rich nods. “Sure. Absolutely. Sorry if I overstepped.”
“Wait,” I say. “What do you mean, ‘keeping Joey alive’? His condition isn’t life-threatening, is it?” I look at Alisa. “You didn’t say it was life-threatening!”
“It wasn’t before,” she says. “I don’t know what it is now.”
I look around at all three of the stooges. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“His episodes are becoming more frequent,” Alisa says. “The most common symptom is loss of consciousness due to autonomic irregularity. Stimulants just make it worse. The only reliable treatment we’ve found is using MTI to stabilize his brain function.”
The cockpit door opens, and Khan comes back into the crew cabin. She looks around and points at Jane Doe. “How much longer is she going to be out?”
“Probably another hour,” Jessica says. “We could wake her up. Why?”
“We’re almost at the rendezvous point,” Khan says. “How do we want to play this?”
“What rendezvous?” Alisa asks.
Khan gives a quick summary.
“This is a bad idea,” Alisa says. “Our priority is keeping Joey safe.”
“He’s safe,” Khan says. “We need to contain Clementine. And it’s my call.”
“Waking up Jane Doe isn’t going to help,” I say. “Why would she cooperate with us?”
“We need some other way to get close to Clementine,” Jessica says. “She’s going to be expecting Scorpion. That armor pattern’s very distinctive.”
Khan rubs her chin with one hand. “How tall are you, Kangaroo?”
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