Queen of Nowhere

by Jaine Fenn

  There were fixings, anchor-points and loose straps, all around the walls. And there was a box, lying on the floor.

  She had been looking for a box earlier …

  Approaching slowly, she heard Tand’s laugh again. The box had a high, curved top. She leaned over it, and was surprised to find a window in the grey surface. She was even more surprised when she looked through it.

  Tand was lying there, asleep in the box. He had been here all along, and no one had told her! She had to get him out.

  She ran her hands over the box, looking for some catch or hinge.

  There was a control panel at one end, but it was dark and inactive.

  There had to be a way to save him! She had failed her lover once but now she had a second chance. Perhaps there was something else in here, something that would help? She stared around wildly.

  There was another box, of a slightly different design. Maybe that box would give her a clue as to how to open Tand’s.

  She lurched over and looked into the second box.

  This one had a woman inside. She was asleep too, and there was something in her cold and perfect beauty that put Bez in mind of childhood fairy tales, of sleeping princesses and the curses of witches.

  A noise that was not a laugh made Bez look up.

  Someone else was here.

  ‘L-Ieave…’ The boy stood beside Tand’s box. One hand rested on it, supporting him; the other was pointed shakily at Bez. He spoke again, his words oozing through the thick air. ‘Leave … her … alone.’

  Bez looked at the sleeping princess, then back at the boy. ‘You lied,’ she said. Her voice sounded hollow and unreal.

  ‘Had to—’

  ‘You lied!’

  ‘Yes-‘

  ‘No!’ Bez launched herself at him, because she had to rescue her lover from this stranger, even though - or perhaps because - nothing else made sense.

  He stepped to one side, and she fell. She scrambled to her feet.

  The boy was speaking. She didn’t care. She went for him again.

  He caught her wrist. She lashed out and up, snagging something.

  Clothing? Hair? The grasp on her wrist tightened. He shouted, ‘Don’t!’ She ignored him.

  He threw her across the room, surprisingly easily. The sudden pain of landing inspired a brief moment of sense - This is a really bad idea! - but her mind had taken a back seat. She got her legs under her and went for him again. There was something silver in his hand, and he had crouched down into a fighter’s pose. She didn’t care. She had to save Tand. Nothing else mattered.

  Reality returned with a lurch.

  Bez checked her charge, veering off to one side. Amazingly, she didn’t fall, but instead came to a shuddering halt, bent double.

  She stared at the floor, the ordinary, non-shimmering floor ofthe cargo hold.

  ‘Fuck!’

  She looked up at the boy’s snarl. He stood straight, one arm held up in front of his face. A thin silver blade was slowly disappearing into the sheaf implanted in his forearm. Bez felt a chill rush of horror. She had tried to attack an Angel!

  He shook his head, incredulous. ‘I could’ve fucking killed you.’

  Then he barked, ‘Don’t touch anything!’ and strode away.

  Bez sat heavily and put her head in her hands. When the pounding behind her eyes eased, she crawled over to the nearest comabox. Despite Taro’s warning, she had to know. She used the box to pull herself up, and looked inside.

  An adolescent boy lay there, in the peaceful oblivion of stasis.

  She had never seen him before in her life.

  She pushed off from the comabox, and nearly stumbled. She had forgotten how damnably tired shiftspace left you.

  She refused to look at the second comabox as she shuffled out of the cargo hold.

  As she expected, the other two were waiting for her. Taro was 70

  perched on a stool, facing the corridor. He had a tranq-pistol on his lap and a wary expression on his face. Jarek was clattering around the galley, but stopped as soon as Bez came in.

  For several seconds they stared at her, and she at them.

  Given she had no idea what to say, she decided to start with an obvious but relatively harmless question. ‘Who is he?’

  Jarek answered, ‘He’s a Consort. From Serenein.’

  ‘One of the boys they put into…’ Bez looked meaningfully at the bulge of the drive column on the far side of the living area.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s he doing in your hold?’

  ‘We brought him from Serenein. They can negate Sid he powers, to an extent.’

  He hadn’t mentioned that when he had explained about the world where the Enemy bred shift-minds. ‘So you plan to, what, use him as, as a weapon, if you meet them?’

  ‘That’s the theory. Unfortunately, Consorts are rather … difficult. When we woke him up fully, he wasn’t exactly cooperative.’

  ‘But you’ve kept him with you.’

  ‘Yes. If we can find a way to use the boy - ideally without putting him at risk - we will. So far we haven’t.’

  Another silence fell. Bez did not want to break it, though she knew she had to. Taro saved her the trouble. ‘In case you’re wondering,’ he said, ‘the other one’s Nual.’ Jarek gave him a sharp look.

  Taro returned it, saying, ‘Come on, Jarek, she must’ve worked it out. She’ll’ve seen Nual’s picture when she sorted our IDs!’

  The boy was right: Bez had come to that very conclusion.

  Which begged the question she didn’t want to ask. Rather than come straight out with it, she commented, ‘She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?’ Bez had thought this at the time Jarek had given her the holopix for the false IDs: how the woman had an odd, almost unearthly beauty about her. Especially her eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ said Taro, ‘she is.’ He looked down at the gun. ‘D’you want to know why she’s in a comabox?’

  ‘Taro-!’

  The boy ignored Jarek’s interjection and stared intently at Bez.

  Although Bez had never been good with lies, she tried for one now, because the truth was unthinkable. ‘Is she … hurt?’

  Taro pressed his lips together and shook his head slowly.

  ‘Look, Bez,’ said Jarek, ‘I know how much you value information, but there are some things-‘

  ‘She’s one of them, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Taro shortly. Jarek gave him another look.

  ‘So, just to be clear,’ she continued, ‘the ally you travel with, and your lover’ - She jabbed a finger at Taro - ‘is a, a…’

  ‘Sidhe, yes, all right,’ said Jarek. ‘She is Sidhe, but she isn’t like the rest of them. Nual’s a rebel. She’s fighting the others. Meeting her is what started me on this whole mission-‘

  Bez swallowed hard, at the same time holding up a hand. ‘I’m very tired. I’d like to rest now.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to sleep.’

  ‘Bez, I know this is a shock, but you have to understand-‘

  ‘Tell me later. I need to get some rest first.’

  ‘If you’re sure…’ Jarek looked confused.

  ‘Totally.’

  Bez made herself put one foot in front of the other, walking towards the cabin she had used earlier. Any moment now, Taro would raise the gun and shoot her-But he didn’t: he and Jarek just watched her pass in silence.

  As soon as the cabin door shut behind her, she exhaled. With the breath came the urge to vomit. She was trapped on a ship with one oft he Enemy …

  She gulped back acid and made herself turn and examine the door. There was a small raised bump; the lock was com-activated and - surprise, surprise - her hosts hadn’t linked her com into the ship’s system. She might hack the lock - though in her current state that was not a forgone conclusion - but if she did, Jarek or Taro could still override it.

  Forcing herself to ignore her nauseous and dysfunctional state, she began rummaging through the ca
bin’s contents.

  Objectively speaking, her next move should be suicide. That was what it came down to. She needed to take her own life before the Sidhe viper that had seduced her erstwhile ally woke up and came for her. The war against the Sidhe could carryon if she were dead, but only ift he information in her head never fell into their hands.

  She had tried to get hold of a suicide implant, but while she had managed to find morally grey medics willing to install the fingertip compartment for her spotcams and carry out the metamorphic surgery that allowed her to alter her appearance, she had never made the right contacts to acquire implanted suicide technology.

  There was nothing useful here: no weapons, no drugs, nothing that could inflict lethal damage. Could she force a heart attack?

  Certainly her heart was beating fast enough. How about battering her head on the wall?

  Realising she had lost the ability to reason, she paused. She dragged over a seat - not looking at the clothes she had to brush off it - and jammed it up against the door. It would not actually stop anyone who was determined to get in, but it might slow them down.

  She sat on the bed, facing the door. She was so tired. Tired and scared. If she just closed her eyes for a moment and got focused, she might be able to think of some solution-She started, and came to. She was lying down. As she pushed herself upright, the full horror of the situation came flooding back. She went from unconscious to wide-awake in two stumbling heartbeats.

  The sound that had woken her came again. Someone was knocking on the door. She made herself call out, ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’re here,’ said Jarek, sounding calm. Of course he sounded calm. He had nothing to be afraid of.

  ‘Where?’ she called back.

  ‘Eklir hub. We’ve just docked at the station.’

  She had slept all the way in from the beacon! Had the Enemy come into the cabin while she was unconscious and insinuated herself into her mind? Bez swallowed rising bile. The seat in front of the door appeared to be where she had left it. She decided to apply the best-case principle. It was either that or hide under the bed, put her fingers in her ears and start screaming.

  She stood up. Currently she appeared to be alive and in possession of free will. She took a deep breath then made herself walk over to the door.

  NEWS FROM ELSEWHERE

  There’s no doubt that the Sidhe are still subtly manipulating human history. I don’t claim to know their exact agenda, though I have some theories. Then again, when did we ever understand what they were up to?

 

  Jarek was waiting for her. Bez looked past him but he was alone.

  ‘Listen, Bez,’ he said as soon as she stepped out of the cabin, ‘I’ve been an idiot. I should have told you about Nual earlier, but I was afraid you’d … To be honest, I was worried you’d react like this.’

  ‘Like what?’ she muttered, scanning the room. Where was the damn Sidhe? Why was she prolonging the agony? All part of her unspeakable, inhuman games, no doubt. Oddly, Bez no longer felt fear. She just wanted to get it over with.

  ‘Negatively.’

  Bez looked back at Jarek and gave a strangled laugh. ‘How in the void’s name did you expect me to react?’

  ‘I hoped you might listen, because I can explain- ‘

  ‘I’m sure you can. I’m not interested.’ Bez took a step, then another, though she couldn’t stop staring, searching for the Enemy.

  Perhaps the Sidhe was still unconscious: Bez suspected, given the nature of shiftspace travel, that they didn’t enjoy transits. But then why hadn’t Jarek just kept Bez in the cabin until his mistress woke up?

  ‘She isn’t here, you know.’

  Bez paused then said, ‘Then you had better call her, hadn’t you?

  Because we both know how this has to end.’

  ‘Fuck’s sakes, Bez! Nual’s still in stasis.’

  ‘Really? Then I imagine she’s going to be very angry when she wakes up and finds you’ve let me get away.’

  ‘No she isn’t, because as I keep trying to tell you, Nual is on our side.’

  ‘No, Jarek, she’s on her side, regardless of what you might think. That’s how they work.’ But hope had crept back. If the Sidhe really was unconscious then Bez had some chance of getting off the ship before she awoke.

  Jarek spread his hands. ‘Is there anything I can say at this point to persuade you I’m still your ally?’

  Rather than answer, Bez began walking again. It was only a few steps to the exit from the rec-room. ‘I’ll be leaving now. There’s no need to take-me any further,’ she said as she entered the short corridor. Jarek called after her, but she ignored him.

  Reaching the airlock, she expected it to be locked, or else to reveal the Enemy, grinning evilly and poised to violate her mind, but the door opened at her touch and the ‘lock itself was empty.

  Bez stepped inside and slapped the panel. When the inner door slid shut, cutting off Jarek Reen’s continued protests, she let herself breathe. She checked the readouts, because this could still be a trap. When she was sure she was not about to space herself, she opened the outer door. Ahead was a short docking corridor. She strode down it to the closed door at the far end, where she listened impatiently to the standard disembarkation message. She scanned her com, with its current ID, as soon as the panel lit.

  She found herself in a customs clearing area. At this late hour it was empty. The bored immigration officials barely spared this nondescript budget traveller a second glance. Even so, by the time Bez exited on to the station’s main concourse she was quaking, her breath coming in gasps. Her first priority was to change persona.

  If - when - Captain Reen and his traitorous crew came after her, she needed to be untraceable. Though the routine was second nature - unlock dataegg; change appearance; collect props - it left her strung out.

  She used her new ID to buy a complete set of replacement clothes, including underwear, dumping everything she had been wearing into a donation hopper. Then she paid a private medical service for a full body-scan. She had been unconscious on Captain Reen’s ship, in an unlocked cabin, for several hours. If the Sidhe had got in during that time, there was nothing Bez could do about it; but a physical bug was something else, and right now the only reason she could think of for Reen letting her go was that he had planted, or implanted, some sort of tracking device on her. When the med-scan didn’t find anything, she decided she had taken enough precautions to let herself rest.

  She booked into a cube hostel and, once locked in the coffin-like space, curled up into a foetal ball and slept.

  Another rude awakening. She sat up, her mind in overdrive.

  The sound came again: it wasn’t an internal alarm, but, half-asleep as she was, it took a moment to trace the beeping to a flashing wall panel. It appeared she had slept beyond the allocated check-out time. If she wanted to stay any longer, the hostel’s system informed her, she would need to pay. She did so gladly, making an additional payment for use of the washroom. She hesitated before opening the door; her lack of spotcam coverage was an uncomfortable hole in her defences, and the thought of having been so close to one of the Enemy still made her gorge rise. Despite the negative scan and change of clothing, she could not shake the fear that her every move was being watched, that she was merely being allowed the illusion of freedom. Soon they would strike, and everything would be over. But the crawlspace outside her cube was empty, and when she ventured into the washroom, she had it to herself.

  Back in Eklir’s dockside mall, the smell from a fast-food outlet stopped her in her tracks. She went in and bought a meal. As she ate, watching the life of the hub pass by outside the window, she conceded that some of her recent behaviour might not have been entirely rational.

  Her initial reaction on discovering the truth about Jarek Reen’s companion was to reject everything to do with the free trader captain. However, he had previously been extremely helpful, not least by providing the memory-core
from the Setting Sun. It appeared that some time between then and now he had fallen under the sway of the Enemy. The timing was odd - he had met ‘Nual’

  before he gave Bez the Sidhe data - but there were a number of possible explanations. The Sidhe could have convinced her travelling companions she was human when she first met them. Or perhaps she had assumed the identity of a human crew member.

  Both possibilities had flaws, and there were other anomalies. For example, if the Consort really could negate her powers, why did the Sidhe let Jarek Reen keep him on board? But the alternative, that Reen had been in league with the Enemy from the start, was even less likely: it would invalidate the data Bez had got from him previously and she had had enough independent verification of the Setting Sun intel to know it was good.

  She decided to continue to trust the memory-core data, though she would be even more careful in corroborating it. Captain Reen, however, was no longer an ally. At least she was safe from him now, as he had no way of tracing the ID she was currently using; nor any of her others, given he was a freetrader not a databreaker.

  For the sake of her sanity she decided to look upon this as another near miss rather than assume there was some greater, as yet hidden, conspiracy at work.

  By the time she left the eatery, she had decided on her immediate course of action.

  She started by looking into onward passage. If Captain Reen had alerted the Enemy, it was possible they would be watching departures from this hub; but given how thinly the Sidhe’s resources were spread, and their lack of influence in the hubs, she doubted it. Thank the void she had not told Captain Reen where she was going next. The Gracen lead was not directly related to the intel he had provided, which made following it up more attractive than ever. She needed to get to Kotane to collect Alpha83’s dataspike.

  She spent a while wandering about the station, stopping here for a caf, there for a sit-down. She bought replacement spotcams, such items being legal here. Eklir was big on gambling, so she dropped in on a public gaming hall where terceball matches and other top sporting events were beeveed in live to allow punters to bet on them. She never gambled but she found places like gaming halls and bars useful, given the large number of distracted people - and hence hack able corns. Such establishments focused their security on protecting credit transfers, and paid comparatively little attention to actual communications. By the time she returned to her room, she had discreetly checked both her permanent and transient datadrops.