“What the fuck is going on with the landing?” Biran shouted at anyone on the deck of the Taso who could answer the question.
“The asteroid’s hab dome isn’t communicating,” Scalla snapped back, her head bent over the console in front of the captain’s seat. Technically, she was the chief engineer of this ship, and Vladsen and Biran shared captainship, but neither of the Keepers were going to shoo her out of that chair anytime soon, because neither one of them could fly without AI. “And the Taso isn’t playing nice. Strap in or break your skull. Either way suits me fine so long as you stop being a damn distraction on my deck.”
Biran swallowed an apology that would only get him shouted at for continuing to be a distraction and clomped over to the inertia chair alongside Vladsen.
“Is everything all right?” Vladsen asked, cool as anything, as if they were having a nice chat over coffee.
“I believe so,” Biran said, trying to keep his voice equally calm while inside he was desperate to pound away at his wristpad until he got a connection back to Sanda. “I had a strange call from Sanda—”
The ship’s forward viewscreen flashed, Hitton’s face filling the view, and Biran forced himself to focus. Sanda was two star systems away, armed to the teeth, with a Keeper distress signal response incoming. She was fine. Hitton, clearly, wasn’t fine. Dark circles bruised her bloodshot eyes, and in the time she’d been gone, wrinkles had set up shop in the two center lines of her forehead, where her skin was prone to crease when she frowned.
“Keepers Vladsen and Greeve. I apologize for the bumpy arrival, your visit was not expected.”
“We filed a flight plan,” Biran said, keeping his tone light, “though I’m sure you’ve been very busy and may have missed it.”
“A call would have been appreciated. Please send your entire crew manifest to my operations manager, Keeper Sato. I hope you brought enough food and supplies for your people.”
“The Taso can hold a lot of supplies,” Biran said, motioning for Scalla to send the manifest to Hitton’s second-in-command. “And we brought extra. Figured you could do with some fresh food by now.”
“You’re not wrong,” Hitton said, a wisp of a smile tracing her features, but quickly crushed. “Though I doubt two Keepers of the Protectorate have come to this piece of gravel merely to resupply my humble mission.”
“We’ve come to assist in any way we can,” Biran said smoothly. “We understand there have been unforeseen complications, and would like to help.”
She chuckled dryly. “The Taso isn’t a Keeper ship. Olver didn’t send you, did he?”
Biran shifted. The crew on the command deck kept their faces neutral, but everyone there was operating under the assumption that this was an official inquiry. Scalla probably had her suspicions, but Biran had insisted they hire her because she could keep her mouth shut. Hitton usually played her cards close to her chest. Calling out Biran and Vladsen in front of civilians was unusual.
“Olver and Anford approved the flight plan, but no, if you’re asking if we were sent to check up on you, Hitton, we were not. We are here to help.”
One side of her face contorted under a forced half smile. “Then I’d better let you in.”
Biran did not say that he would force the doors if she attempted to turn them away, but the tightness around the corners of her eyes said all that was needed—she understood the implication of refusal.
It should not have come to this point. Hitton was capricious, but never outright insubordinate. Something had gone very, very wrong on this asteroid. Something she was not willing to say, even now, while two potential allies sat on her doorstep with a ship capable of blowing to pieces whatever her perceived threat may be.
Vladsen met Biran’s gaze, and understanding passed between them.
Hitton cut the video feed.
“Sir,” Scalla said, and cleared her throat. “The doors are opening to the primary habitat system. Looks like she’s dug the habs down into the rock. May I suggest you take a small survey crew with you?”
“We’ll take the GC,” Biran said. Scalla looked relieved. “Stay with the Taso. Offload the supplies for the station, but keep the ship warm.”
“Understood, sir.”
Vladsen walked shoulder to shoulder with Biran through the airlock and into the chrome-slick walls of the survey station’s tunnels. Four guardcore trailed behind them at a respectful, if wary, distance. Knowing a GC personally was impossible, but a fluidness in the gait of one of them reminded Biran of the GC who had helped him with the wounded after the debris strike on Ada. It comforted him to think one of those nameless suits of armor had already proven to have a kind heart.
“Thoughts?” Vladsen said, sotto voce.
“Too many to be useful.”
“I’m of the same mindset. All of this is… off.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here.”
Vladsen chuckled roughly. “It’s why you’re here. This isn’t my usual modus operandi.”
“Don’t worry,” Biran said with a wink, “I’ve heard you’re a quick learner.”
Hitton came around the corner, her second-in-command, a young Keeper from the cohort before Biran’s named Natsu Sato, tight at her side. The younger Keeper fiddled with the edge of her wristpad.
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you a proper welcome,” Hitton said. “We are rather busy at the moment. Sato can show you to your rooms and has already made arrangements with your crew to offload necessary supplies. Welcome, Keepers.” She nodded to each of them formally, then turned to leave.
“Hitton, wait. We’ve come to help. Don’t brush us off.”
She froze, back stiff, and said firmly, “Sato, see them to their rooms.”
“Yes, sir,” Sato said, but Hitton had already gone, her wiry frame disappearing around a corner before Biran could rally himself for another attempt at getting her to stay.
“Well,” Vladsen mused, “what a charming abode you have here, Keeper Sato. I, for one, could do with a rest after our long journey.”
Biran almost twisted himself out of his boots with his desire to chase down Hitton and demand to know what was going on, but Vladsen was right. Ruffling things would only get them pushed further away.
“Yes.” He grated the word out, then mastered himself and submitted to the role he was supposed to play here. “Thank you, Keeper Sato. Tell me, how are you enjoying life away from the Cannery so far?”
Biran racked his brain for everything he knew about Natsu Sato as they walked down the just-slightly-too-dark halls, and came up mostly blank. Since she was in the cohort ahead of his own, his contact with her had been next to nothing. He knew she’d studied geology and had found herself a mentor in Keeper Hitton due to a personal endorsement from Director Olver. After that, the rest was a blank. She’d been nervous at their impromptu arrival, but that meant nothing, as anyone got a little jumpy when members of the Protectorate showed up unannounced—even other Keepers.
“I miss the daylight,” she was saying as she led them through the tunnels, deeper into the heart of the asteroid. “Well, the simulated daylight. A fake sunrise is better than no sunrise.”
“It is rather dim in here, isn’t it?”
She frowned as she glanced at the inset lighting. “We can spare the power to keep them at daylight levels, but Hitton prefers it this way.”
“Strange,” Vladsen said, absently trailing his fingers against the too-smooth walls. “She always struck me as rather fond of starlight. I seem to recall she takes her vacations in tropical environs.”
“That is her usual preference, yes.”
The words Then what changed? balanced on the tip of Biran’s tongue, but he swallowed them down. Sato was feeling them out, and pushing too soon after their unexpected arrival would only get her to clamp down.
She stopped them outside a door and flashed her wristpad over it. The orifice dilated to reveal a spacious room, with en suite and a set of double beds. “I apologize that you’ll
have to share space. We’re running things rather tight here.”
“I thought you were fully staffed,” Biran said. “But I haven’t seen a soul since arrival, or heard anyone clomping around in mag boots but us.” He gave her what he hoped was a harmless smile. “Where is everyone?”
“Working,” she said, but a tendon in her jaw tensed.
“All hands, eh?” Biran knew he was poking too much. The doleful look Vladsen gave him spelled that out pretty plainly, but Sato had adopted the canted, forward body language of someone who wanted to say something. Olver and Anford had seemed to have their own source of information from the asteroid. Considering Olver had endorsed Sato, she might be the director’s source—and willing to talk. Biran hoped he had given her the right opening.
“There’s something you should see.” The words ran together. She closed her eyes and centered herself. “If you’re not too tired from your journey…?”
“Please, the Taso’s cushier than a spa,” Vladsen said. “Lead the way.”
“They have to stay here.” Sato pointed her chin at the guardcore. “Forgive me, Speaker, but Hitton wouldn’t like it. I’m only showing you two because you’re on the Protectorate.”
“Ah, well.” Biran’s mind raced so fast he almost made himself dizzy. “This is a Keeper installation, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind sitting this out.”
“The location is on station?” one of the GC asked in their computerized voice.
Sato nodded. “Not far, five hundred meters from here, round about. We’ll only be a minute.”
“We will remain.”
Biran put his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Leave your personal guards behind” was a comic-book-level invitation for an assault in a dark alley, but Sato didn’t seem the type. And if she was, she wouldn’t be so obvious about it.
Sato’s pace picked up, and while Biran’s gait was longer, he had to speed-walk to keep up with her. She took turns without explanation, and each time they entered a new area of the station, Biran couldn’t help but marvel at how silent the whole place was. No signs of life lingered in these halls, where supposedly hundreds of survey crew lived and worked.
She stopped hard in front of a large set of doors, wide enough to fit two pallet bots side by side through, and hesitated. Biran and Vladsen kept their traps shut, hanging back a respectful distance, while Sato made up her mind.
Even if she fed the stray bit of intel to Olver, Hitton was her direct boss and longtime mentor. Biran got the distinct feeling that whatever Sato was about to show them risked her severing ties with Hitton. He wanted to reassure her that whatever was going on here, she was doing the right thing, but it would feel false coming from him. He didn’t know what was happening. She did. Sato needed to assure herself, and all he could do to help was wait patiently while she arrived at her decision.
She swiped her ident over the lockpad. The doors peeled open, sliding into the wall with a soft hiss. Sato stepped aside. She’d opened the door, but she wouldn’t enter, that was up to them.
Biran took the first step across the threshold. The lighting stayed low, but after blinking in the dim twilight for a few moments he could make out stacks upon stacks of crates, every one splashed with Prime logos. The Keeper insignia itself was dead center on every single panel of each crate. His stomach clenched. He didn’t need to read the manifest to realize what these were, but he had to be sure.
“Is this the survey bot shipment from Ordinal?” he asked in a soft voice. In the pockets of his jumpsuit, his palms began to sweat.
Sato followed Vladsen in, stepping as if she expected the floor to vanish beneath her at any moment. “They are.”
Vladsen said in his slow, easy way, completely lacking an accusatory tone, “They look as if they’ve never been opened.”
“A few dozen have.” There were thousands. “But the results weren’t deemed trustworthy.”
Biran didn’t need to ask who had made that call. “I see. Are they malfunctioning…?”
Sato shook her head hard. “No. She fears they have been tampered with. After the shipment was counted in, Keeper Hitton—” She grimaced. She’d been trying so hard not to say the woman’s name outright. “She started noticing another person on the station.”
Ice ran through Biran’s veins. “How?”
“A heat signature on the station map that shouldn’t exist. She believes a saboteur stayed behind after that shipment and messed with the bots.”
Biran kept his voice neutral. “And what do you believe?”
“I’ve run the manifests multiple times, even instigated a head count and watched the thermals myself. The bots we used brought back results consistent with human-powered surveys. I am… honestly uncertain. I’ve seen no evidence aside from the thermal scans.”
“What do the scientists think?”
“They’re sent out into the field every day for as long as possible to do the work the bots were supposed to do for them.”
“Kept too busy to make their own deductions.”
She paled. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, of course you didn’t.” Biran made himself look away from the mountains of crates and meet Sato’s gaze. “Thank you for showing us. We want to help.”
“Why did you ask us to leave the guardcore behind?” Vladsen asked gently.
Sato crossed her arms and took a step back. “Hitton thinks she saw an unaccounted-for individual in black armor, but the lights are so dim… It could have been anyone.”
“I’d heard rumors…” Vladsen whispered to himself, brows knitted together.
They’d pushed their luck too thin, Sato’s body language stiffened. Biran clapped Vladsen on the shoulder. “I could do with a lie-down and a light meal, what do you think?”
“An excellent idea. Thank you for the tour, Keeper Sato.”
They bowed to her in unison. She uncrossed her arms. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need any further directions around the station. My ident has been sent to your contacts list.”
She ducked out of the warehouse and was gone around a corner before they could ask her anything more, leaving them alone in the cavernous room with the dormant survey bots.
Biran took his hand off Vladsen’s shoulder and turned back to the crates.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think I really would like a drink, if not a lie-down.”
“Me too,” Biran said. “Me too.”
CHAPTER 47
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
ONCE A CRIMINAL, ALWAYS A CRIMINAL
Comms went dead at five minutes to estimated impact. Thirty seconds before that, Sanda ordered everyone to kill their wristpads; the guardcore could use them to fine-tune their locations. She hated being without a guiding voice in her ear, hated not having a map to track the movements of her people, but this was the price of going to war with the GC. You did it blind, or they saw every damn little thing you were looking at.
Arden had taken Liao and gotten to cover. Graham and Knuth were holed up somewhere in a terraced level of the station, using long-range rifles they’d pilfered from SecureSite’s stores to sight down at the holding center.
Sanda picked her spot on the top of a transit center. Nox had argued that the top of one of the apartment buildings would make better cover, and give them better aim, but Sanda hadn’t been willing to put those civilians at risk. She’d already tossed this whole station in the fire. She didn’t need to pour accelerant on the inhabitants.
“Two minutes, by Arden’s estimate,” Nox said.
Sanda slowed her breathing, cradled the rifle against her shoulder. She needed all the power she could get to punch through GC armor at long range.
“You ever known Arden to make a mistake?”
“About math? Not a chance.”
“Then I guess it’s too late to run.”
“Don’t lie to me, Greeve. Dad isn’t around to give you his disapproval. You love this shit as much as I do
.”
She weighed the weapon in her hands. Half-moons of brown blood caked under the short protrusion of her nails. It had hurt, watching Novak fade out like that and knowing she was the cause.
When Bero had told her everyone she’d ever known and loved was dead, blown to dust by time and war, she’d wanted nothing more at that moment than to take up arms—to scream and fight and claw back what was right, what was hers. She’d never been slow on the trigger as a gunship sergeant.
But the grin on Nox’s face was something else. It wasn’t rage or bloodlust or, hell, even justice. It was just hunger. Something ate Nox up inside and this was the way he’d found to feed that ache.
Sanda didn’t love the weapon in her hands, not the way Nox did, but she loved that it gave her a chance. A chance to protect.
The GC ships punched through the protective membrane of the dock shield.
From her vantage, she had a clear view of the holding center, the primary docks, and the shuttle docks below them. Alarms screamed and warning lights flashed in protest as the shield worked overtime to seal itself up, to close the breach between the station and the hard vacuum beyond.
Sanda had eyes only for the ships. Three of them, as Arden had predicted. Long scythes of black metal plating, not a hint of an indicator light anywhere on their sleek and violent bodies. Black wasn’t the right word for them. The guardcore’s singular task was protecting the Keepers. As with everything Keeper related, they used proprietary materials, produced by Prime for Prime alone, and their color was so very dark it seemed to dim light. Not an absence of light, but an absence of space. How Rainier had gotten her hands on the real deal Sanda could only guess, but if she survived this, she meant to find out.
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