by Kelly Gay
“You think Cap will go for it once she’s back?” Lessa asked.
Ram turned to question Niko. “What do you think? If you told her what was going on, what would she do?”
Niko paused before saying, “She would help me. Whether I deserved it or not. And then she’d make sure they’d release me free and clear this time, with a formal dismissal bond from the guild. If that’s the price to pay… she’d pay it. I mean, this won’t surprise her, Less, you know that. She knows how things went down when we left, right out from under the guild’s nose. Hell, she’s probably been expecting some sort of retribution at some point.”
The conversation trailed off, ending on thoughts of Rion. The fear they all held was legitimate. But they had the next three days in slipspace together, and Ram knew the best way to deal with this level of anxiety was to put them to work.
“Good—so we’re in agreement. Once we get to New Carthage, Rion first; blackmail second.” Ram pushed away from the table. “Now, I’m off to fix that cracked track line in the hold, and then I’ve got laundry to start. Less, once you’re up to it, you have filters to change, and are you still up for giving me a trim?” She nodded. “Great. Niko, same goes; rest awhile, then see that the med bay is cleaned spotless, and the locker room restocked and organized. You’re also on dinner duty and cleanup.” There had to be some kind of punishment, after all, but Ram had to give the kid credit—he took it like a champ. “Spark, I need you to learn everything you can about Pilvros and Hannibal and add it to the brief. We’ll finalize a plan once we reach the planet and gather more intel.”
CHAPTER 20
Spark
—How’s that?
—How’s what?
No matter the modifications I make to his core, Little Bit’s absentminded nature remains.
My mother would say he has his head in the clouds—a fair assessment. However, his unique responses are mostly confined to verbal discourse and not to administration or system functions. I am coming to believe that his odd responses are the result of stress and trauma sustained in the explosion on Etran Harborage, an ordeal that sent him racing from relay to relay in an effort to stay ahead of high-energy photon clusters burning through the shield world at the speed of light.
With each jump, he lost a part of himself.
Though small in comparison, when the Rubicon crashed, I was forced to make a similar bid for survival and can attest to the strain of becoming trapped within a framework of fiber-optics, cables, and filaments as they burn down around you. I had but one ship to navigate and find shelter. Little Bit had to flee across an entire world.
—Your matrix adjustment.
—Of course. Ah… Oh, my. Quite expansive! How liberating!
—You’ve been trapped in fragments for a very long time, your matrices compressed. We will conduct new tests later, but I am certain your increase in data absorption and management will propagate exponentially, thus alleviating your panoptic handicap.
—It feels good to stretch. It has been a long time.
—Enjoy it. Now that this vessel has been upgraded, you have a lovely and complex, and somewhat familiar, expanse to explore.
—Would you like to join me?
It amuses me he would ask. It has never been in my nature to nurture, yet I have done so with this broken ancilla, discarding his damaged parts and building them anew. The kinship that has grown between us is a comfort and surely an anomaly, and perhaps a mark of maturity within me that I had not considered before.
—Another time.
—Will you continue repairs on the landing gear?
—Not at this time.
—Ah. You will be in your picture, then.
—Explain.
—Oh, dears. I have said it wrong. Fabrication. Concoction. Your as-was spot?
—Memory simulation, you mean. Yes, I will be in my “as-was” spot and do not wish to be disturbed.
I feel him hesitate suddenly.
—Do you hear that?
I certainly did. That strange, popping static with no origin. There and gone.
—You heard it just then?
—Yes, briefly.
—I will think on this.…
I leave my semiliterate protégé and retreat farther into the ship’s mainframe to a spot carved out for me and only me—a place with walls that silence the intricate, beating heart of the Ace of Spades.
My as-was spot.
It is an appropriate connotation. This is indeed a place where things are as they were. A sensation of sight and sound and touch and scents—down to the smallest remembered detail—has been built here.
Here, I am human.
As I lie on my back, the grasses sway in the wind, their hard tips rubbing together in a strange song that I remember, and that gives me comfort. The clouds drift by overhead as I chew idly on a garro stalk. The calls of wildlife echo in the distance. The spring sun warms my face.
One hand is tucked behind my head and my eyes are closed.
I drift. I dream.
CHAPTER 21
Niko
The med bay and locker room were spotless, and he’d just started the rice in the steamer for dinner. He didn’t need to, as the food dispenser worked just fine, but Niko thought a home-cooked meal would be a nice touch.
Ram sure knew how to make a person think. And that’s all that Niko had done while he worked. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself; he never should have launched Michelle. If he hadn’t, chances were good those flying things might’ve never shown up. But even before that, he should have confided in the crew—or at the very least the captain.
Everyone on the ship had a past and a right to privacy, but when people were being threatened or were dealing with an issue that might affect their work—which in turn affected the crew—then it was a whole ship problem, not an individual one.
He could have seriously injured his sister and damaged Ace beyond repair.… And keeping his silence and trying to deal with it himself hadn’t been nor would it ever be worth it.
That Ram hadn’t insisted on knowing what Bex had on him was a small miracle, one that he was enormously grateful for. Niko’s answer had been pretty lame, but it was all he had to give, and he could tell by the look on his sister’s face that he’d lit a raging fire of curiosity in her, which was the one thing he dreaded the most. Lessa was the reason he was keeping his damn mouth shut.
The rice had fifteen more minutes, and the sauce was heating in the tin. He set the table, then cleaned up the counter before grabbing two Greedy Meads and leaving to go find Ram.
The acting captain was in his quarters, sitting in a chair with a towel around his shoulders, Lessa behind him holding scissors and scowling straight ahead like a statue, which meant she was watching something through her VCL. Virtual contact lenses were an amazing bit of tech that allowed the wearer to see a superimposed display against a real-world backdrop. Niko would love to use them, but lenses and his eyes just didn’t mix.
He’d been hoping to catch Ram alone, but what the hell, he supposed he had amends to make all around. He knocked on the open doorframe. “Food will be ready in fifteen.” He lifted one of the beers.
Ram motioned him inside and gratefully took it. “Everything else done?”
“Yep.” Niko hesitated. “I—”
“Damn it.” Lessa’s face scrunched up in frustration. It was clear she was watching some sort of hair-cutting tutorial.
“Maybe you’re making it way more complicated than it needs to be. It’s just a trim,” Ram reminded her, before widening his eyes at Niko and mouthing, Help me.
Niko bit back a smile.
“Yeah, well, usually Cap does this, not me,” she replied defensively, dragging Ram’s wet hair through a comb.
Niko took a long pull on his drink, drumming up the courage for what he was about to do. “I wanted to say… thank you, Ram, for the… um…” And of course the right words disappeared when he needed them the most.
“No
worries, kid. We’ve all been there, me included. We’re human—we make mistakes, we try to fix them, and we don’t want to bother anyone else with our problems.”
Niko waited for his sister to chime in, but she remained strangely quiet—another minor miracle, but he’d take it. “Still, you could have been pretty hard on me about it.…”
“I’m only hard when people don’t learn or care to listen. We’ll work it out with the guild.”
“Well, for what it’s worth… I’m glad you came on board.”
“Same,” Lessa muttered, bending over and squinting at her trim line.
“Rion did me a kind favor,” Ram said.
“Yeah, same for me and Less. You being here, though… it’s helped. After Cade was… you know. It’s just good to have you here.”
Back when he had his own ship and crew to captain, Ram had been fortunate to call the Ace of Spades’s longtime first mate a friend. He didn’t know every detail of Cade McDonough’s death, but he knew enough. Losing a crew member… he understood that all too well. There were those who crossed the boundary from crew to family and loved one. Cade had been such a man to Rion and her small crew.
“Being here has helped me too, kid, more than you know.” Ram lifted his can. “To Cade.” They clinked. “And Cap.” They clinked again.
“Okay, I think I’m done.” Lessa straightened, not looking entirely convinced. She retrieved the VCL case from her pocket, removed the lens from her eye, and returned it to its solution, then tugged her wireless earpiece out and placed it in its pocket on the case.
As Ram stepped into his small bathroom and removed the towel to shake out the trimmed hair, Niko was struck by the strange scars on his back and shoulders, patches of melted skin in the shape of eyes. Knife wounds—only those knives had been made out of plasma. “Those healed pretty good,” he blurted.
Ram picked a fresh shirt from a hook and pulled it over his head, then tied his hair back. “Nanotech at its best.” He’d be dead without it, sure enough. Ram leaned against the doorframe, drinking the beer, then wiping his arm across his mouth. He scratched his beard, frowning.
“Don’t even ask me to shave that thing,” Lessa warned, taking Niko’s beer and helping herself to a sip before handing it back.
Humor and horror glittered in Ram’s dark eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“So you gonna go back to being captain at some point?” Niko asked.
Ram considered it, his beer dangling from his fingers. “Never thought I’d hear myself say it, but… I don’t know. Thinking I might go back to the Erstwhile at some point, when I’m no longer a wanted criminal.”
“The ship on Komoya?” Lessa asked.
“Bought out one of the partners at the bar there a while back.”
“No shit. The Erstwhile bar is a Komoyan staple.”
“And a solid investment.” Ram polished off the beer. “Then there’s Nor… looking for someone to take over the Clearing House.”
Now that was a shocker. “No kidding. How long you been holding on to that information?”
“Couple of months. The old bird sent an encrypted message about the possibility, and we’ve been back and forth ever since. Really wants me and Rion to work it together, while she stays on as a silent partner.”
“With a larger share in the profits, no doubt.”
“Goes without saying.”
“Does Cap know?”
“Haven’t brought it up yet.”
A piercing alarm resounded down the corridor. Immediately, Lessa darted out of the room. Niko, however, was quite familiar with that particular alarm and counted the seconds until… “Goddammit, the rice is burning! Niko!” The alert stopped. A pan clanked loudly. “Ow!” Niko winced.
Niko gave a suffering look to the ceiling as a stream of curses began drifting from the kitchen along with the acrid smell of what was supposed to be dinner. Why was he always in a perpetual state of trouble? Why? “Guess I should go deal with that.” But his feet wouldn’t budge. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Is it wrong to just hang out here and let her handle it?”
Ram laughed. “That depends on how much you value your life.”
“Niko!”
He finished the last of his beer and reluctantly went to face the music.
Before he made it into the corridor, Ram said, “Hey, Niko. The creatures that attacked the ship? It wasn’t because of Michelle.” Ram held up a hand to prevent any response. “But. It very well could have been—you catch me?”
And Niko did. Lesson definitely learned. “Yeah. Loud and clear. Thanks.”
CHAPTER 22
Rion
When Rion regained consciousness, every nerve ending inside her lit up, racing and branching out like a hot burst of crawler lightning. Pressure squeezed her from all directions, through muscle and tissue and bone. The tang of ozone stuck in her throat, and the air in her lungs had an arid quality that made her chest feel paper-thin.
Dear God.
Her equilibrium couldn’t decide if it was on solid ground or still tumbling through space. Maybe rolling onto her back and orienting herself with her surroundings would help. After moving from her side to her back and pulling one leg in, an intense wave of nausea hit before she could even open her eyes.
Bad idea. The blood vessels beneath her skull throbbed drumbeats of liquid fire. With a shaky hand, she fished around in her vest pocket for a pain strip, removed its covering, shoved up her sleeve, and stuck it to her inner forearm, then curled into a ball, waiting, and praying for the tiniest bit of relief.
Eventually, the agony gave way to a dull whole-body ache, allowing her mind to clear somewhat. But the clarity brought about a flood of recent memories, of light, space, panic, confinement, chaos, and strange dreams. Not things she ever wanted to relive.
Shoving those horrors aside, Rion forced herself to sit up and focus on where she’d just landed.
A film of what felt like dirt or maybe dust covered a smooth floor made of stone or metal. The air was humid, but not hot, and while it was pitch-black, there was a sense of largeness around her.
The datapad in her gauntlet was cracked, glowing lines skating in and out across the screen. She tried her comm link. “Anyone reading me? Copy?” Nothing. She switched to open channels. “Anyone copy?” Again, no response, not even a static return.
Cautiously, she rolled onto her knees, taking time to push to her feet due to the lasting effects of vertigo.
Once the dizziness subsided and the sensation of weakness left her legs, she hit the light built into the shoulder strap of her vest. It struggled to work, but eventually stayed on long enough to reveal an immense chamber composed of steel-colored alloy, smooth as satin and polished to a high sheen. Glyphs and the long geometric lines the Forerunners were so fond of were carved into the floor and walls.
As she continued her turn around the room, she nearly screamed when her light hit the pillars standing just meters behind her. They loomed above her at least eight meters tall, rectangular in shape, and angled at the top. Small glyphs ran up the sides, and straight inlaid lines framed a central symbol of a circle broken open at the bottom with an octagon at its center and two offset parallel lines that cut through the picture.
The monoliths were more ominous and darker than any other Forerunner metal she’d seen and possessed a powerful vibe that pricked her skin. While there was no way to prove it, Rion had a strong feeling she’d passed through the space between them… in which case she wasn’t going anywhere near those things ever again, not if she could help it.
On the bright side, the place was definitely Forerunner. Was it too much to hope she’d been pulled to another location on Zeta Halo? Perhaps a stretch, unless those terrifying memories of tumbling through space were simply hallucinations…
A strange and eerie sound, far off and haunting, echoed through a main corridor leading away from the chamber. Definitely biological in nature. An animal call or—
It came again.
The hairs on her arms rose. While it didn’t sound close, Rion eased her M6 from its holster and began examining the chamber for another exit. If whatever made that noise was hostile, she didn’t want to be around when it found its way inside.
As she stepped back, her boot crunched something brittle. Immediately she stepped off and angled her light to the floor, seeing a tangle of bone fragments. Having come across remains frequently in her line of work, she could tell they weren’t very old, given the color of the bones, the dried bits of flesh still attached, and the hair and torn clothing strewn about.
A reflection winked from the floor. Curious, she bent down to retrieve it.
A button. Jesus. This was human.
Wherever the hell she was, clearly there had been others before. Her current situation had just taken a dire turn.
A metallic scuffling had her spinning around, gun aimed at the ceiling, heart in her throat. She angled her light only to find empty space. All her instincts were firing. She wasn’t alone. And worse, she wasn’t exactly operating at a hundred percent.
Using the nearest wall as her guide, Rion began moving along, glad to have something solid at her back, hoping another exit presented itself. Around the monoliths, she found an open conduit shaft just above floor level with a passable upward angle. The air felt different here. A few dried leaves littered the ground. She killed the light, letting her eyes adjust. It was either wishful thinking or there was a vague gray light up there.
If her crew was inbound, the worst thing she could do was leave, but circumstances forced her hand. Finding a safe space to lie low was now a priority. She had to hope that if the crew did manage to follow, they’d find her nearby via her bio-tag.
Knowing this might be her only way out, Rion worked her body into the shaft, braced her feet against lines of cables in the corners, and used the power of her lower body to begin the arduous task of pushing her way up.
At one point in the long climb, the shaft leveled off, providing a welcome resting place. She lay flat on her stomach and pressed her hot cheek against the cold metal. While her body wanted nothing more than to stay, she allowed only a few minutes of rest before continuing on.
