by Jaine Fenn
‘Yes. Sorry. I didn’t have a chance to inform you of my change of plan.’
‘Was there a problem?’
‘Nothing you need worry about, Captain Reen.’
‘Right. I thought we agreed you’d call me Jarek?’
They had, after Bez had told him her real name - the name no one else had spoken out loud for nearly two decades. She suddenly felt massively self-conscious. ‘Er, yes…’
‘Did you want a hand?’
‘No. I’m fine.’ Bez pushed herself to her feet. Stepping over the box’s high side was trickier than it had been earlier, thanks to legs gone rubbery and numb.
‘I’ll make us a caf,’ said Captain Reen - Jarek - as she straightened up.
‘Shouldn’t we be leaving?’ Looking around, she saw that the ship’s living area - the ‘rec-room’ - was as untidy as she remembered.
‘Taro’s got that covered.’
Ah yes: one of the two allies he had asked her to procure false IDs for the last time they met. She hadn’t realised he was currently travelling with them; assuming the other one - Nual, that was her name - was here too.
‘So, did you want one?’
She focused on Jarek. ‘One what?’
‘A caf?’
What was it with men offering her drinks? But after an hour and a half in that damn box, she could really use one. ‘Yes. Please.’
She followed him over to the galley area (How hard would it be to put those plates away?), and, after locating a debris-free seat, sat down at the table. Her time in the box had left her desperate for another shower, but first she needed to speak to the free trader captain. ‘I don’t think the memory-core is accurate anymore,’ she said. One advantage of deciding to trust Captain Jarek Reen was that there was no need for all those tedious social niceties with him.
Jarek paused, caf jug in hand. ‘You mean the Setting Sun’s memory-core?’ He was the one who had originally procured the data for her - or rather, the physical memory-core of the Sidhe ship, which Bez had decrypted.
‘Yes,’ she said, a little impatiently.
‘In what way? I’ve found the intel on it pretty sound so far.’
‘One, possibly two, of the S--Sidhe freetraders are no longer operating.’ How long since she had actually named the Enemy out loud?
‘Well,’ said Jarek, putting down the jug, ‘I might have an explanation for that. What were the ship names?’
‘The first one is the Missed Symphony.’
‘Was that the converted starliner?’
‘Yes.’
‘I t’ s been destroyed.’
‘Destroyed? How?’
‘Sabotage. A splinter faction within the Sid he tried to get hold of it. The others objected. r believe the military term is “asset denial” .’
‘But they don’t have factions. They’re a unified force!’
‘Apparently not always.’ Jarek scooped some caf into the jug and set it to heat.
Bez digested this news. ‘Do you have more details? If this is something we can use against them-‘
‘I believe this was an internal problem which has now been resolved.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me about it?’
‘You’re not an easy woman to get hold of. I thought I’d wait until you called on my services again - after all, lowe you. I didn’t expect it to be so long…’
‘I’ve been busy. What about the Steel Breeze? Do you know what happened to that?’
‘If it’s the ship I think it is then it’s also been trashed. Remember I told you how Serenein had defences installed by the Sidhe?’ Bez nodded. ‘Well, the locals managed to turn them on their erstwhile rulers.’
‘Good for them. So that world is definitely out from under their control?’ Serenein was one of the Enemy’s nastiest little secrets, though the isolated theocracy was not in itself vital to her plans.
‘Yep.’ Jarek stirred the jug. ‘No more transit-kernels.’
That had implications in the long term; Bez wondered if Jarek had considered them. Or if he had uncovered any more Sidhe secret locations. ‘What do you know about their other activities outside human-sp8ce?’ she asked.
‘Not a lot; Serenein’s the only lost world I’ve found.’
‘But the Sidhe living in human-space have to come from somewhere, don’t they? There must be hidden cloning labs.’
‘Labs, anyway. I told you they use sperm from Serenein’s Consorts to keep their bloodlines strong, didn’t I?’ He began pouring the drinks.
‘You did.’ Those sorry youths were all that was left of the Sidhe males. ‘But however they reproduce, they have to do it somewhere.
What about colony ships? Or perhaps, ah, motherships?’
‘Damn!’
‘What is it?’
‘Just spilt a bit of caf. Wait, I’ll wipe it up.’ He did so. Bez waited. He looked over at her and said, ‘Some sort of mothership arrangement does seem likely, yes. Here you go.’ He handed her a mug across the table.
Bez took the drink and said, ‘If you find out more about that - about anything relevant - you will tell me, won’t you?’
‘We’re on the same side, Bez.’ He took a pull from his mug, but remained standing. ‘I should probably check on Taro; he’s still getting used to flying on implants,’ he said, and made to move away from the counter.
‘Wait!’ Bez was sure Jarek had more answers; she certainly had more questions. And part of her relished having an honest human interaction she didn’t have to fake.
‘Don’t you want to get cleaned up? You did last time you arrived that way.’ He nodded towards the box sitting in the centre of the rec-room.
‘I do. I just … can I ask you a couple more things first?’
‘Sure.’
‘Your sister, Elarn.’
‘What about her?’
‘The first time we met I asked you why you were fighting the-them. You said vengeance. Was that for Elarn Reen? They killed her, didn’t they?’
‘Not directly, no, but the Sidhe certainly … caused her death.’
‘She only died a couple of years ago. I first got in contact with you five years ago.’
‘That’s true. Before that I was less focused. With Elarn, the Sidhe made it personal.’
‘But how did you find out about them in the first place?’
‘That’s … complicated. Now might not be the best time.’
‘I need to know, Jarek.’
‘Fair enough. The short answer is, by accident. 1 had a run-in with the Sidhe and barely got out alive. Kind of changed my worldview.’
Bez could relate to that. She would ask for full details later, when she was less wiped. ‘What about your ship?’
‘What about my ship?
‘You sold it some months back, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I did. But I retain full control.’
‘The new owner is very secretive.’ So secretive Bez had yet to penetrate their many shells to unearth their identity. ‘Is it someone you can trust?’
‘Yes,’ said Jarek emphatically.
‘Even so, involving a third party is a risk-‘
‘No offence, Bez, but this really isn’t anything to do with you.
Not everyone can swan through human space hacking themselves new funds as and when they need to. I’m a free trader: I run a business. Combining my business with chasing after a hidden enemy wasn’t working out. I got into debt so I accepted an offer that solved the problem. It has no impact on our fight against the Sidhe.’
‘I see,’ said Bez. She hadn’t expected him to be so touchy. ‘I think I’ll go have that shower.’
‘Good idea.’
As she stood up, Bez had one last thought. To Jarek’s departing back, she called out, ‘Why didn’t you put my box in your ship’s cargo hold?’
He paused and half turned. ‘Because the hold’s full.’
‘Full?’
‘Yes. Of cargo.’
Bez hadn’t had t
ime to check the Alliance data on this ship, but she had been taking an interest in the activities of the Heart of Glass for some time, and she knew that it rarely had a full cargo hold.
DISTINCTLY RETICENT
Designation: Target136
Correction to previous data: Deceased.
Designation: Target 136
Correction to previous data: Deceased.
Designation: Target 136
Correction to previous data: Deceased.
Standing beneath the tepid jets of water, Bez considered her conversation with Jarek Reen. She wanted to trust him. He had provided intel vital to her mission and was the only one of her agents who knew who the Enemy really were. It appeared he had even met them once - and lived. Bez had met a Sidhe herself, although at the time she had had no idea … She dropped that line of thought, and dialled up the shower temperature.
If only she could banish her niggling doubts. Although Jarek had answered her questions, he had been distinctly reticent.
Perhaps she had stirred up bad memories, or maybe there was something else going on unrelated to the current situation.
People were so difficult. With a comp, you knew where you were. With a person, there was always the chance they would say one thing and mean something else, and if you challenged them on it, they stopped cooperating at all. Data never lied, or sulked, or dissembled.
She switched from water to air. As she dried, it occurred to her that personal feelings might be affecting her judgement. Since losing T and she had kept everyone at a distance, operating under the cover of her many false identities, always playing a part. With Jarek Reen, she risked revealing her true self every time she opened her mouth.
She dressed in the spare set of coveralls she had brought with her. As she emerged she found the galley occupied by an un feasibly tall youth. He looked up and gave her a friendly grin. ‘You must be Bez. I’m Taro.’
She nodded. ‘Ah. Yes. And, uh, Nual?’
His grin faded. ‘She ain’t here,’ he said shortly. ‘Want a drink?
We got real juice.’
Her hosts appeared determined to be hospitable. Bez picked her way across the room and took the proffered mug from the boy’s hand, careful not to touch his long fingers. He looked so young, yet he must be about the same age Tand had been when he died. And she knew what this youth really was. She struggled for something appropriate to say and settled on, ‘You’ve had headware installed recently, haven’t you?’
‘Sure have.’
‘I thought your captain didn’t approve of implants.’
‘My captain…’ He looked amused. ‘Jarek don’t hold with implants for himself, no. Religious upbringing and all that shit. But he’s happy enough for me to have ‘em. Makes the piloting easier, y’know?’
‘Where’s Jarek now?’
‘On the bridge, chatting to Traffic Control. He said you might want to crash out? I’ve tidied 0-my cabin so you can.’ The boy gestured at one of the doors off the rec-room. ‘Changed the sheets and everything.’
Bez wasn’t sure about sleeping in a strange boy’s bed - clean sheets or not - but now she had started to relax, everything was catching up with her. And if she stayed in the rec-room, he might expect her to make conversation. Although she did need to talk to this boy, she wanted to check the state of play with Jarek first. ‘Er, yes. I’d like to rest.’
‘Room’s all yours.’
‘How far out from the beacon are we?’
‘Four and a bit hours.’
‘I’ll be up again in three.’
*
Given the state of the cabin, Bez hated to think what it had looked like before the boy tidied it.
She sat on the bed and drank the juice - it tasted like one of the berry blends from Tarset’s hydroponics farms - then lay down and closed her eyes.
She had intended to use the time to think, but the next thing she knew, her alarm was waking her. She sat up slowly then paused.
Something about that pile of clothes in the corner. Not that she wanted to focus on the mess in here, but her half-asleep gaze had spotted an anomaly. On closer inspection it turned out to be a piece of female underwear.
Either the boy had an unusual social life or he and the absent female crew member were lovers. Presumably she was only away temporarily, given that she had left some of her clothes here. Bez wondered what she was up to. Perhaps she should ask Jarek. After all, his crew were the only other people taking an active interest in bringing down the Enemy. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming earlier. All that mattered was that he could be relied on when she needed his assistance in her mission.
Out in the rec-room, Jarek was cooking something that smelled appetising, while the boy, Taro, was making an attempt to clear enough of the table to eat off.
‘Good, you’re up!’ called Jarek as Bez wandered over. ‘Dinner’s almost ready; we need to leave enough time for it to settle before we make the transit.’
‘Shiftspace indigestion,’ said Taro, shaking his head. ‘Not pretty.’
‘Ah,’ said Bez, ‘I was hoping I could use your coma box for the transit.’
‘I’m afraid it’s broken,’ said Jarek.
‘Oh.’
‘We don’t usually use the ‘box ourselves. I’ve been meaning to find the time - and the money - to fix it, and if you’d given me a bit more notice perhaps I would’ve, but as it was we had to rush here to meet you.’ He smiled. The boy smiled too, and shrugged.
‘So I’ll be conscious in shiftspace?’
‘We got good drugs,’ said Taro. ‘They’ll sort you.’
‘1-1 guess 1 don’t have much choice.’
‘Yes: sorry,’ said Jarek. ‘Let’s eat, shall we?’
The food was good - fresh greens and pasta, with no tang of recycled sludge - but the thought of having to make a transit while conscious ruined Bez’s appetite. Going into stasis carried a tiny but calculable risk of waking up brain-damaged, or not at all, but Bez would take that chance rather than endure the uncontrolled chaos of the void - especially given what Jarek had previously told her about how shiftships really worked.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten in company; she had no idea what, if anything, to say. As the other two didn’t appear inclined to make conversation either, the meal passed in silence.
Afterwards, while Taro cleared away the dishes, Jarek asked, ‘Where are we taking you, then?’
‘Eklir station, initially. I’ll be there about a day. Then I might need you again, for an onward transit.’ Jarek owed her a lot of favours; Bez hoped he was going to be reasonable about having some of them called in now.
‘I guess that’ll be all right. How’s the good fight going, anyway?’
‘Everything’s coming together.’
‘As in, you expect to make your move in the foreseeable future?’
‘Yes. I do.’ She did not add that this was largely thanks to the data he had provided; he knew how grateful she was.
‘That’s great, Bez. Obviously, when the time comes, if there’s anything you need me - us - to do, then just say.’
‘Actually, there is something you can help with.’ Bez smiled, relieved the matter had come up naturally. ‘Some of our enemies, including the most powerful ones, are going to be hard to bring down, even with the intel you provided. In the end it may come down to assassination.’
Jarek raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not averse to killing Sidhe, though given we’re talking about nearly six hundred of them spread across human-space, that might not be practical.’
‘This would be for a few special cases only. And I wouldn’t ask you to do it.’ She turned slightly, addressing his young crewmate.
‘You’re an Angel, aren’t you? You and your companion.’ Not that the boy had the demeanour of a semi-legendary assassin.
‘Yeah, how’d-?’
‘Remember,’ interrupted Jarek, ‘Bez got you those spare
IDs?
So she knows what’s on your original one.’
‘Oh, yeah. Sure, I got the mods.’
‘And the gun? The x-laser?’ asked Bez.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I got that too.’
‘Good, because a weapon that can kill someone cleanly from a considerable distance might be what we need.’
‘It ain’t something I make a habit of,’ said Taro. ‘But if we’re talking about Sidhe, I’ll do it.’
Jarek added, ‘We’re with you, Bez. Just let us know what you need us to do.’
She nodded. ‘I will.’ She knew exactly whom she wanted at the end of the Angel’s laser. ‘I need access to your ship’s comp now.’
‘What?’ Jarek looked taken aback.
‘Given how I arrived on board, I have to insert my current ID into your records as a passenger, otherwise the authorities at Eklir might ask some awkward questions.’
‘Oh, I see. No problem. Did you want to do it before we shift?’
‘Yes, I’d rather get this sorted now.’ She didn’t expect to be good for much after the transit.
‘Will it take long? I need to start the power-down soon.’
‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’
‘Right.’ He got up. ‘Follow me, then.’
Although Bez knew where to find the comp, she let Jarek lead her up the ladder to the ship’s small, circular bridge. The shutters on the dome were open and the glory of space extended above them; off to one side, the ember-star that Tarset station orbited glowed like a distant red eye. They were too far away to see the jumbled structure of the hab itself.
Jarek lurked at the back of the bridge while Bez slipped into the ship’s limited infoscape and made the relevant changes. He then stood aside while she went down the ladder.
Back in the rec-room, Taro was sitting on one of the room’s two generously proportioned couches. As she started towards the cabin he called out, ‘We thought you’d be better off in here with me.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve done a fair few shifts out of the box: I’ll keep an eye on you, be there in case things get too freaky.’