“Huh. Cool. Never seen one of those before, let me have a look.”
Screwball pretended to mull it over, but had to admit that he was feeling pretty cool, on a secret mission for the old man. He took the metal box out of his jacket pocket. Ditz watched with curiosity as he undid the clasps, and then held it open.
“Holy fucking shit, man! What the hell!” Ditz’s eyes went wide and he stumbled back against the railing, clutching wildly.
Screwball fumbled the box, startled. It flipped over in his hands and he only barely caught it by grabbing it clumsily to his chest. “The fuck, Ditz? What’s the matter with you?”
“Me? What’s the matter with me? Fuck, man, shit, what’s the matter with you?”
“I asked you first!”
“Ah, shit, shit, shit.” Ditz groaned. He fumbled in his pockets and came up with a little cylinder of something. Flapping one hand, he calmed himself enough to hold it up to his eye and spray. He squeezed his eyes shut and swore a bunch of times.
“What?” Screwball watched in growing panic, clutching the box to his body and staring at his friend. “What are you… What??”
“That’s no police black box, you asshole, that’s a fucking atom bomb.”
“What?!” Screwball yanked it away from his stomach and almost dropped it again. “What the fuck are you talking about, atom bomb?”
“That’s the same bomb Nuke had, man! The hell are you doing with it?”
“Feeney gave it to me! He said it was a police… what the fuck, man!”
“Calm down, man, just calm down!”
“You calm down!”
“OK,” Ditz said. “OK, OK, OK. O....K.”
“Stop saying OK, you’re freaking me out.”
Ditz looked a little bug-eyed still, but kept his mouth shut.
Screwball’s pulse was starting to come down to a level where he wasn’t worried he’d keel over from a heart attack, and with the panic subsiding he started to feel frustrated. Ditz folded his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. Screwball wished he would say this was a bad idea so that he could deny it, but Ditz just stood there looking stupid instead of saying something stupid Screwball could argue with. And then, he realized he was angry.
“Look. Ditz. We’re expendable. Disposable. Nobody gives a shit about the grunts, but you know what? I don’t intend to stay a grunt. I intend to make something of myself. If I come back, Feeney will think I’m a loser. But if I do this… listen, Ditz. If I do this, I’m not just some grunt anymore.” He waited for Ditz to respond, but got impatient. “Look, you said before that Nuke told you this thing wasn’t that big a deal. Just like a little local explosion, right?”
“Yeah...”
Ditz frowned.
“So if I go all the way to the end of the bay and stick it on the outside door, nobody’ll get hurt. Right?”
“I dunno.”
“And they’ll lose the use of the mechanic’s bay. But there’s another one, on Feeney’s side of the station.”
“Yeah... He uses it for storage.”
“So where’s your friend Sparks going to go?”
“Huh.”
“You can distract her, right? Keep her away, safe?”
Ditz considered, then started slowly nodding. “I can get you in.”
“How?”
“There’s the emergency airlock. In case somebody gets stuck in the bay when it’s depressurizing and they’re, like, too far from the main one? It’s supposed to be impossible to get into from outside and there’s supposed to be an alarm, so nobody ever guarded it, but we used to have it hacked so we could get in and fool around. Get high, oxplay, that kind of thing.”
Screwball furrowed his brow. “You mean horseplay?”
“No, oxplay. Like, oxygen. It’s an airlock, dude, you can mess with the oxygen levels and screw. If you set it real low, you get these amazing orgasms. If you set it high you get this awesome energy and can go for hours.”
“Shit, man, people die doing that.”
Ditz grinned. “I’m immortal so far, dude.”
FEENEY HAS REGRETS
Liam John Feeney woke with a start in the middle of a snore, and glared around at his office from his position slumped in his big chair. The galleria lights had dimmed and yellowed to their nighttime colors, leaving the furniture and knick-knacks sunk in shadow. His head was starting to hurt, and he wondered how much he’d had to drink with that Corbin lad. Carball? They all had such ridiculous names. He shook his head, and regretted it.
The water was on the other side of the room, blast it, and he eventually heaved himself upright and walked over to it on heavy feet. Something nagged at him. He was forgetting something. He never forgot anything important. He had a very good memory, the best.
He poured a few fingers of water, tossed it back. His throat was dry, he shouldn’t drink so much at his age. Used to be, he’d drink three times that much and be the only one standing, by God. Just a little water, that was the trick. Take water and an aspirin, you’d be right as rain, come what may.
The safe was open. Damn, when had he–
Feeney stared. The water glass slipped from his fingers, bounced once, and splashed his trouser cuffs. He tried to send a call, and realized he didn’t know how to get ahold of the Screwball kid. Three minutes later, Mary was in his office, yelling at him.
“He doesn’t know it’s a nuclear weapon,” he finally protested.
She stopped, and stared. Her face was blotchy red from the effort of yelling. “Do you… do you actually think that makes it better?”
“Well. I thought, if he didn’t know, he wouldn’t be so afraid of it. Might stay calm, you know.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes tight. “You can’t get ahold of him at all?”
“I tried everything I could think of.” He hadn’t thought of much. If he were being honest, keeping things organized had never really been his strong point. Angelica had always been the one to handle that sort of piddly detail.
Mary opened her eyes and gave him a wary look. “Can it be disarmed?”
“Oh yes. It’s a construction nuke, for clearing rock, not a tactical one. Easy.”
Still staring, unbelieving, she collapsed into the chair across the desk from him. “We have to tell Angelica.”
Feeney sat stiffly. “The hell we do. Why would we tell that witch?”
“This isn’t a game! We have to tell her. We have to tell McMasters–” She talked over his protestations. “We have to tell McMasters. We need to catch up to this guy.”
“Absolutely not. We’ve got good people, we’ll handle this.”
“Where did you send him?”
He got a crafty look in his eye. “Well. Perhaps I don’t remember. We can handle this.”
“We have. To tell. Angelica.”
“No, no. Look, she’s touchy about nuclear weapons–”
“Everyone’s touchy about nuclear weapons! That’s the whole goddamn point of nuclear weapons!”
“Tch. If you’re going to be like that...”
“Grandfather. If that goes off inside the station, it will blow out multiple decks. If we’re lucky, it will only kill a lot of people and not crack the hull like an egg.”
He waved her off. “Oh, it’s not that bad. If there’s a problem, we’ll just take my yacht. Anyway, it’s only a quarter ton yield. The hull’s got that fancy armor that’s good for twice that. Easily. Strong stuff, you know. Really impressive.”
“Not from the inside!”
“Don’t be dramatic, we isolated the chop shop for exactly this reason.”
“Aha!” She jumped to her feet, jabbing a finger at him. Before he could finish his spluttering protest, she had already signaled Angelica for a call. The wait tone echoed in the quiet office, once, twice. Petulant in defeat, Feeney folded his arms and stared at a scuffed spot on the desk.
“What do you want?”
“Hello, Angelica,” Mary rushed to speak before her grandfa
ther could.
“What do you want?”
“A temporary truce. There’s a... situation.”
“Hi, Mary!” Raj’s voice was faint, and she struggled to keep a smile off her face. The old man’s scowl deepened.
“What kind of situation?”
“One of our soldiers has gotten his hands on a pocket nuke. He doesn’t know what it is, and we can’t get ahold of him.”
Mary Feeney had known Angelica del Rio for most of her life, first as the pretty young ingénue assisting her grandfather’s confidence games on a dozen space stations, then as a capable and increasingly relied-upon lieutenant who provided a stiff backbone and cool hand while Mary, Willy, and their grandfather reeled from the death of the old man’s son, Mary and Willy’s father. In all that time, she had never heard Angelica swear. It took her a moment to recover from the shock, but the older woman was still swearing furiously well after that moment ended, hurling blistering invective in three languages into the air over Feeney’s desk.
“I understand you’re upset,” Mary said. Angelica’s inarticulate reply sounded like she was being strangled while laughing. “I know! But right now we need to work together. It can be disarmed.”
Silence. Then, “There will be consequences for this, Mary Feeney.”
“I know.”
“Where is he going?”
“Before we come to that, I want to bring McMasters in.”
“Why?”
“He deserves to know, and I don’t want him interfering. We’ll deal with him straight, but our two sides outnumber his people.”
“Fine. Where is your person going?”
“Mechanic’s Bay 2.”
Angelica laughed. “Oh! Oho, now I see. Oh, how incredibly clever you are. I almost fell for it.”
“I think you’ve misunderstood,” Mary said, and grimaced.
“No. You’ve just underestimated me. Very good bait, Mary. I absolutely believed your grandfather would be that careless, believed it very easily! Oh, I dare say you sent one of your little idiots down there. But you think I’ve got something there that McMasters would like to see, don’t you? And you know that he’s not going to go sniffing just on your say-so, he’s not willing to be your cat’s paw. But you think if you force him to go, if I invite him to go, he might see something that he can’t unsee, is that it?”
“Angelica–”
Feeney could hold his indignation no longer, “I told you so! That witch–”
They started talking over each other then. Mary felt suddenly very tired. She sat to shield what she was doing and sent a message to Raj, to hell with Angelica’s spying: not a trick. going there now. time for Plan B?
The response was fast: K. It was followed just as fast by miss u.
Mary stared at it, nodded once to herself, and cut the call. Feeney looked put out.
“I’m too much of a gentleman to say I told you so,” he sniffed.
“How do you disarm it?”
“We’ll have to catch up to them first, and we can’t do that now that Angelica’s going to swarm.”
“Let me worry about that. I’ll force my way in if I have to. How do you disarm it?”
He heaved a dramatic sigh, but obliged her with a short explanation, finished with a twisting gesture. He spread both hands palms up over the empty spot of desk he’d been demonstrating over. “Not hard.”
“Good.” When he turned his back she messaged U 2 and left.
PLAYING DEFENSE
“What are you waiting for, go!”
Whip had never seen Angelica so worked up. The boss clutched the railing of her spiral staircase in both hands, so hard her knuckles were white. She looked down at the pistol in her own shaking hands, and still wasn’t sure what it was doing there.
“Go!” shouted the boss. “Take the back routes. Don’t all go the same way. Go now!”
She’d never seen Raj look that serious. His face was practically gray, almost looked ill.
“Come on,” he grumbled. He’d corralled that swordswoman, the one they called Mick who’d taken her grandma’s knife away from her. She only had the sword, she hadn’t accepted a gun, which Whip thought was nuts. She and Whip eyed each other, but Raj didn’t seem to be in the mood for backtalk.
“Right,” Whip said, and managed to sound like she wasn’t terrified. Raj didn’t take notice; he just grabbed a few others as they went out the service entrance next to the private poker room.
They made their way past the shut-up provisioner’s shop, and scared the hell out of one of McMasters’ guards. He mashed himself up against the wall so fast all his black armor made a hell of a clatter, but she didn’t even laugh at him. They took the stairs, which were already loud with pounding footsteps.
“We’re not going to the main door, sibbies,” Raj said abruptly, not slowing down. “This way. Put away your guns.”
“What’s up?” Mick asked when they stopped to open a hatch two decks down.
“The old man’s done something really dumb. So dumb my sister doesn’t believe it, but I do. Sent someone to plant a bomb in the chop shop.”
“You have guards posted,” she said, and sounded dubious.
“Yeah, and we’re posting more. Nobody’s seen anything yet.”
There was shouting ahead, and a single gunshot. Whip’s guts felt like they turned into ice water. Carter pulled a piece on them as they rounded a corner, his eyes round with fear. Whip thought for sure she was about to get shot, but he seemed to recognize them just in time.
Raj put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. She heard him ask, “Anyone got hold of Sparks?” and Carter nodded.
“She said everything’s fine and to fuck off.”
Raj seemed to relax. “All right. Here’s what’s up. I want you–” he turned and looked over his shoulder. “Shitting hell, where’d she go?” Whip turned around. Mick was gone. The others exchanged looks and shrugged. He didn’t wait for explanations, he just shook his head in irritation. “Forget it. How much we pay her, she can figure things out for herself. You, Bex. Go back to the stairs and wait. Keep your gun put away. Someone from Feeney’s crew is coming, and I don’t want them shot. I want them captured.”
“Shit!” someone yelled from away down the corridor, and there were gunshots.
“Hold your fire!” Raj yelled. “Damn your balls, hold your shitting fire! Nobody fucking shoots anybody, savvy? Who shot?” He swore, and opened his comm. Whip saw her own comm light blink on. “Who shot?” he repeated, even though Angelica had told them like three times not to use the open comms because McMasters listened in and maybe Feeney too.
A voice came in on the open comm, hesitant. “Um, me, Raj.”
“What you shooting at?”
“Nothing.” A voice on the far side said “Bot”. “Yeah, bot. Startled me, yo.”
“Don’t shoot at nothing. Hold your fire.”
“Angelica said–”
“Fart on my sister. She’s not here, and I’m telling you don’t shoot no one.”
He clicked off the comm, rubbed the bridge of his nose like he had a headache, and opened the comm again, giving meaningful looks at the people around him. “The hatches are locked down. Sparky’s in her office. The stupid little eggfart we’re looking for hasn’t gotten in yet, savvy? Any of Feeney’s assholes comes around, draw on them but take them alive. Do not fucking shoot unless you want to die.” He considered. “Even then, don’t shoot.”
“No need, Raj.” Whip’s head shot up and she spun with her own gun ready. Raj grabbed hold of her wrist, hard.
A woman with elaborate facial tattoos and rows of implanted spikes on her face stood behind her, palms up in surrender. Whip gasped.
“Why hello, Mary Feeney,” Raj said, showing his teeth. “I wondered if I’d see you today.”
“I said I’d come,” she said quietly. She didn’t seem to notice all the guns and angry looks around her. “You going to keep your end of the bargain?”
Raj nodd
ed once. “Stay off the air. Nobody tells my sister nothing,” he said aloud. “Not until we’re done. That’s a goddamn order and I’ll shoot anyone who tattles. Savvy?” In the silence he said louder, “Savvy?”
Whip muttered “savvy” along with the others.
“Good,” he said. “Miss Mary Feeney’s our prisoner, and we’re nice to our prisoners.” He nudged Whip, taking her gun as he did. “Go search our pal for weapons.” He grinned at Mary and said, “Hey, no offense, I’d have come armed.”
She smiled faintly. “None taken.”
Whip patted her down fast, and wasn’t real sure what she was doing, but didn’t feel anything that might have been a gun or knife or anything, and she said so.
“All right, sister,” Raj said. “Let’s see if we can keep your grandfather from blowing us all up, hey?”
MISTAKES WERE MADE
Ditz and Sparks laughed at each other. They were high as kites, naked as jaybirds, and felt grand.
“Man,” Sparks said. “I missed this. I missed you, man.”
“Aw. I missed you too,” Ditz said, and only felt a little bit bad. He thought for a second, maybe he wouldn’t raise the alarm, maybe he’d just stay and go out with a bang. He laughed again at the double something, the word “bang” because that could mean an explosion or sex and she didn’t seem to notice or care. Wait, he hadn’t said that out loud. She hadn’t seen Screwball. Shit. He heaved a sigh. “Better get dressed. You’re gonna hate me for this.”
Her dreamy laugh died down. “What? What’d you do?” She sat up suddenly. “Is this what they’ve been bitching about on the comm?”
He fished her jumpsuit out from under the desk and tossed it over before he started tugging his pants on – he was a gentleman, after all. “Your shop’s gonna blow up.”
“What!” Her anger fought through the drug haze and confusion. “The fuck, Ditz?”
“Sorry,” he said, and really felt miserable. “You can go use Feeney’s shop if you want.”
“Fuck Feeney, why would I want to use his shop?”
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