by R. K. Thorne
“We were poor—” he started.
“Well, she’s not now. Here’s her address.” It flashed up on the screen, along with a picture of an elegant walled residence. “Look like she’s begging for her dinner to you?”
Kael only stared, something like anger brewing, although he didn’t understand why.
“Listen, there’s this friend of a friend on Faros IV. Talented hacker. She seems to be getting into a bit of a pickle…”
“Here we go again,” Ellen muttered.
“I’m just saying, I think we should check all this out. Kael can talk to Asha. We can try to find out what happened to the baby. We can get a new recruit or two for our team. And do some good along the way. If I’m right, we’re going to need all the help we can against Arakovic.”
Ellen sighed. “I’ll have Adan set a course.”
Simmons grinned and started to say something, but the image flickered off abruptly. Odd. He didn’t usually cut out accidentally. Guy was better at tech than that.
“Xi? What happened?” Ellen said.
“Connection to Doug was terminated. I will attempt to reestablish. It could take twenty-five minutes or more.”
“All right,” Ellen said. What else could she say?
They sat for a moment in strained silence.
“Too bad I didn’t have my come-to-Jesus moment a week earlier, huh?” she muttered.
“Your what?”
“My revelation? Confession? Never mind.”
He said nothing.
She cleared her throat. “You’ve got to go to her. Talk to her. Find out what happened.”
He shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that quickly.”
His lips found hers again as she gave a little gasp of surprise. And if she were honest, relief. He held her neck, locking her in place. She was tense for a moment before her body relaxed, the urgency gone out of her.
When he finally came up for air, he rested his forehead against hers. “Listen. Wherever she’s been for the last eleven years, that new place sure looks like it has a comm or a holodesk or two. Don’t you think?”
Her brown eyes were wary, but she nodded.
“She could have tried to reach out, get in touch. She didn’t. So whatever it is—it’s over. But it would be nice to clear my name.” He smiled.
“Damn it,” she grumbled. “If we get killed on this next mission, that’ll serve me right for delaying so long.”
“Guilt over it all doesn’t get us anything, Ellen.” He imitated her best stern voice, and she giggled. “Stay clear on the mission.”
“I guess.”
He squeezed her arm. “You had good reasons to be afraid. That’s one of the reasons I don’t seem to be able to quit you. You’re the kind of person who is willing to deny themselves something to help others. Or protect them. Maybe it was an excuse, but maybe not. You’re wise to be careful. To pay attention to your motivations. A lot is riding on them.”
She nodded solemnly.
“But I’m also glad you changed your mind. Does that help?”
“Yeah. Yeah, actually it does.” She smiled at him, unguarded for once, and there was something more rare and priceless in that than any of her words.
“You know what else would help?” He smiled back.
“What?”
“Getting out of this armor. What do you say?”
“No sooner thought of than done.”
Before Ellen had finished shucking her last pauldron, though, another call came in to the holodesk. But it wasn’t Doug. It was Levereaux.
Ellen glanced at Kael. “I have to take this. It’s probably about Adan—”
He waved at her wordlessly to go ahead.
Where he sat, he’d be in frame. She wondered if she should shoo him out of the video or beckon him closer. Anything less than honest was potentially hurtful. And she’d caused enough hurt so far.
She didn’t ask him anything. She poked the desk key and accepted the call.
Levereaux’s face appeared from sick bay. She glanced once at Kael, her brow furrowing, before turning her gaze back to Ellen. “You wanted a status report?”
She nodded. “How’s Adan?”
“He’ll be fine. I’ve done all I can, but he needs to get some rest before surgery. But we can replace what he’s lost.”
Ellen’s jaw clenched. “Can I stop by?” Much as she didn’t want to right now.
“Of course. I’m headed back to my quarters, but Jenny will be here.”
Ellen nodded and cut the comm. She turned to Kael. “Can you hold that thought?”
He smirked at her. “Haven’t I been for two months already? What’s another hour?”
She glowered at him. “It won’t be that long. Want to come?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m pretty worn out.” He glanced at the floor, tilting his head as he prepared to say something. “Do you mind if I… wait here for you to come back though?” His eyes twinkled at her.
“Yes. I mean, no—I don’t mind. I mean. Stay. Please. It’ll only be a moment. I just—”
“What?”
“It’s my fault you’re here and perfectly okay, and he’s down there and well… not. I made the call.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is. Maybe you hadn’t snapped out of it yet, but Ostrov—”
“No.” He slashed through the air with the knife-edge of his hand. “It’s Ostrov’s fault. He’s the one who ordered the robot to attack Adan. You just did your best to respond to it.”
She took a deep breath. “Maybe. Still. I’ll feel better if I stop by.”
“By all means.” He leaned back on her bed, folded his hands behind his head, and smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
She’d rarely made the trip to sick bay so quickly, sliding down the ladder on her soles of her shoes. Rich would wince. Her pistol was tucked at her back waistband for now, and she was still in the sweaty clothes she’d worn under her armor. What a classy guest she was. She palmed open the door.
The sick bay was quiet, still bathed in a purple uterine glow. The sloshing sounds made her gag, the memory threatening to flood her. But the sooner she came to re-associate that sound with this empress baby rather than her Ostrov prison, the better.
Speaking of the baby, the creature—the girl—seemed to have doubled in size. Maybe more. How long had it been? No more than days, surely.
She approached the first bed where Jenny stood. “How is his eye?”
“It’s pretty much gone.” Jenny shrugged it off, but Ellen could see she was shaken. “But we can grow a new one or give him a cybernetic one. Dremer is drooling over the possibilities right now. And she even has a playmate to bounce plans off of.”
“Well, at least a few people are happy.” Ellen shook her head. “I’d rather he not have been hurt.”
Jenny ran a finger down the back of Adan’s hand, and Ellen forced herself not to stare or raise an eyebrow. Best if she just pretended not to notice. What business was it of anyone’s? “He’ll be mostly recuperated in a few hours. Then a little down time for the replacement surgery. A lot of research has been put into eyes. It’s a good body part to lose.”
Ellen knew that, but she winced anyway. She also knew the speed of medical tech didn’t make the trauma, the horror of the experience go away.
“Do you think I did the wrong thing?” she said after a while.
Jenny frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He made me choose.”
“Who? Ostrov?”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“So I chose Kael.”
A look of understanding crossed Jenny’s face. “Oh, so that’s what you’ve been worried about? Why you haven’t already jumped his bones?”
“Jenny!”
“Well. Is it?”
“Yes!” she snapped, exasperated. “I think this is proof it’s a very valid worry. They’ll be other times. Other tough choices, where it’s one person
or another and no in between. When I have to make the call. How do I make the right one, if… if things are more complicated than just one person or another?”
Jenny pursed her lips. “Well, if it hadn’t been Kael, it would have been someone else. And you still would have had to choose. In this case, you chose the one of us with the telekinetic ability to free the other two. If you’d chosen me, Kael would just be dead. But all three of us are here now because you chose him.”
“But I wasn’t thinking about telekinetic ability. I wasn’t thinking at all.”
“I think some part of your subconscious mind knew the right choice. But even if it didn’t, I don’t see how it matters. It could have been Mo in his place. It could have been me. Any of us. You’d still have to pick, and it would still be worse than a frying pan full of dung beetles. But that’s what we signed up for. We make tough choices every day. We do our best. And then we do our best to live with them.”
Frowning still, Ellen nodded. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
Jenny patted her hand. “Now let’s let him rest, shall we?”
“Yes.”
Eight hours after liftoff, Adan was recovered enough to take the bridge and give Fern a rest. He plopped down into his pilot chair with a sigh, the familiar shape of the cushion under him shifting, the lining creaking. It was good to be back. Adventure was one thing. A nice refresher. A special kind of R&R for someone like him who was stuck in the ship most of the time. A trip to acquire some knowledge and battle scars and a massive headache.
And maybe a cybernetic eye.
Which would be kind of cool, if he could just block out the memory of how he’d lost the original one.
But he liked it inside. Really, keeping to the flight stick was how he’d prefer it. How had he ever thought he could leave this chair? This lovely, lovely ship? He ran a hand over the smooth metal below the view screen, gave her a pat.
“Missed you, girl.”
“I missed you too, Adan,” said Xi, from the ceiling.
“I also missed you, Xi, but I was talking to the ship.”
“Am I-I not the sh-ship?”
There was an odd skip to her voice. That was strange. He couldn’t remember Xi ever bugging out, and that was so common on most computer systems. Average people didn’t notice them, but anyone who’d seen under the covers knew just how many bugs there usually were in most software. It was how hackers made their way around, exploiting such weaknesses. But Xi was usually quite reliable.
“I don’t think you’re quite the same as the ship, no. You’re more like one of us.”
“That is a very interesting thought, Adan. I will have to take it under m-meditation.”
“As long as you don’t start throwing things like the—” He stopped himself. “Like Kael.”
“Like Kael, I will fix anything that I break. But worry not. I find deep p-ponderous thought natural and relaxing.”
“Unlike Kael?”
“Yes.”
“Just one of the many reasons why I like you.” He leaned back in the chair, propped up his boots, and knitted his hands behind his neck. It was good to be home. “You okay, Xi? You don’t sound quite right.”
“Yes, Adan. Th-thank you for asking.”
There was that skip again. But she knew herself, so he shrugged it off and looked out the view screen. He sat for a long time in silence, watching the slow movement of the ship through the stars.
A sudden snick and then a click made him jump, bring his feet down and start to rise.
“Don’t move.” Merith’s voice was right behind him. He could see her reflection in the view screen.
He froze, hands still raised near his neck. “Merith? What the hell?”
“Warning: standard security protocols have been disabled—” Xi started.
“Shut up, you stupid computer.”
The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his neck.
“You should have taken Josana’s offer, Adan. Then you wouldn’t be in my way right now.”
“Did you put her up to it?” That would make more sense.
“That small-time chemmie? No way. Just would have been convenient.”
“And what way is that? How am I in your way?”
It dawned on him slowly. The drug, the threat, the risk to his life—it had been real. He hadn’t truly believed it until just now. Did she have the ampule behind her even now? And why then would she still have a gun?
“You always thought you were such hot shit. You think you’re the only one around here who knows your way around a network? But then that idiot spoiled rich kid installed this stupid pet AI, and I had two obstacles to deal with. Well, I’m taking you both out. Right now.”
He blew out a shaky breath. “What did you do to Xi?” That angered him more than anything she could do to him.
“Set a course for Tetra VII. Now.” She pushed into his neck with the barrel. Eyes could be replaced, but a spinal column? Much less likely.
His fingers started working. Usually Xi would do this, or at least check his inputs. She was silent.
“What’s on Tetra VII?” he demanded.
“Your precious little patron, that’s who.” She spat the words.
He swore. “Jesus, what did Simmons ever do to you?”
“It’s not something he did, per se—”
A sizzling cut the air, then a shot, and he threw himself to the ground before he could register that he’d already heard the attacks, and obviously neither had hit him.
What the—
From the floor, he rolled and turned and saw Jenny in the doorway. The telepath in her blue cloak hovered in the shadows behind her shoulder, eyes glowing under the shadow of her hood.
And Merith lay on the floor, in a messy splatter of blood.
“Told you we all need help some time,” Jenny blurted through panting breaths.
“Two cigars.” He shook his head. “I owe you at least two cigars.”
“You better make it a lifetime supply at this rate.”
When Ellen arrived back in her cabin, Kael’s slow breathing greeted her. The lights were dimmed, sending little shells and pyramids of soft, white light to the floor, and the hum of the ventilation was the only other sound. Home. The Audacity wrapped around them like a shell, a cave, a place to hide, breathing and dark and quiet and home.
She stood, leaning against the wall and watching him sleep for a while, and it occurred to her that there had rarely been a time she’d felt such peace. His chest rose and fell with each quiet breath, and she could marvel in privacy for a moment that he was actually here.
That she’d actually said her piece. That it hadn’t been too late. That Jenny was maybe right that being happy—with him—wasn’t necessarily the most irresponsible thing she could possibly do.
After she’d had her fill, she carefully placed the pistol on the table beside the cookies and milk and slipped as smoothly as she could into the bed beside him. His arms were still nestled behind his head, and it was all too easy to tuck her head against his shoulder, lay her body warm against his, and close her eyes.
At some point, she stirred from sleep, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of another body solid and reassuring beside her as an arm curved over her waist. But it was so warm, and so perfect, she quickly fell back into sleep.
The door chimed. Then someone pounded.
Manually. Hard.
She started, and so did Kael next to her. Something was wrong. She staggered out of the bunk and hit the palm pad to open the door.
It didn’t open.
“Shit.” She grabbed at the handle near the bottom, grunted, and it started to slide.
“Let me,” Kael said, appearing beside her, blinking. “What are you keeping me around for if not to open doors?”
She stepped aside, smiling wryly. “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”
He had the door open in half a second. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Commander!” Jenny was pan
ting outside. A pistol was in her hand, pointed at the floor, and her eyes were wild. “You’ve got to come to the bridge. Merith. She tried to hijack the ship.”
Ellen swore. She took off after Jenny at a run, Kael on their heels. Jenny’s eyes snagged on Kael, widened for just a second, then kept going. “Who had the bridge?”
“Adan!”
“Jesus, not his day!”
“I know. But it’s fine,” Jenny said. “Well—mostly fine. Kentt showed up at my door and got me to intervene. I guess because it’s close to the bridge?”
As they reached the bridge, they found that hatch also standing open. Ellen slowed to a stop just inside. Merith lay on the floor, blood pooling around her. Shit. She should have… done something more. Prevented it from coming to this.
“I chose your door because I knew you would care more about Adan’s safety than whether or not I was telling the truth.” Kentt leaned against a far wall, and the words flowed out smooth and calculated. “Time was of the essence.”
Ellen frowned at her. “You make a habit of searching for potential traitors when you board a ship? Did you smoke her out?”
“No,” Kentt said. “I did do a light scan. Her thoughts were especially concealed. I always find that suspicious. She had some minor talent, and it had been trained specifically to protect herself from telepaths. Or else your fledgling might have noticed her treachery sooner. But I did not smoke her out. It seemed the departure from the planet was her catalyst. She wanted out of Capital territory first.”
Adan hadn’t turned to look at them. He was flying through commands at the pilot’s console. Noticing her gaze, he cleared his throat. “She did something to Xi. I’m trying to get her back online.”
Hell. That was worse than she’d thought. “What else did she do?”
“She made me set our course for Tetra VII.”
“What the hell is there?”
Adan frowned, glancing at each of them in turn before saying, “Patron Simmons, apparently. Doug. According to her.”
“That is correct,” said a voice from the ceiling. It was stilted, void of inflection, computerized.
“Xi?” he gasped. “Is that you?”