Against That Time

by Edward McKeown

  “Only such items can command enough money to make shipping them interstellar pay,” Dusko replied. He stands. “I’ll get started loading the shuttle. Glad I am not going with you.”

  “You will follow Jaelle down as needed,” I remind him. “For now continue to simulate a larger crew, make sure your orbit does not allow for Wrik’s ship to detect you. That would raise suspicion.”

  “I am not addled,” Dusko snaps. “I am quite aware of that.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Jaelle says laughing. “He’s been grumpy since we came out of hyperdrive. Must be getting old.”

  “And hoping to get older, unlikely as it seems in this crew,” he retorts.

  “Any chance I could talk to Wrik?” Jaelle asks, after Dusko leaves.

  “You know that direct linking more than one of you is dangerous,” I say.

  “Yes, but you can tell him what I say.”

  “Truly it would be best to let him rest. I will relay your greetings when he awakes.”

  “Kit-sister this is far from satisfactory.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “It also makes me suspect that things are worse than you’re telling me.”

  “The situation is presently nominal. Hazards have been overcome.”

  “I’m sure. I will want to hear more about those in due course. Are you taking care of Wrik?”

  “With every skill I have.”

  “Good, Kit-sister. Continue.”

  “Jaelle, please be careful. There is some power moving against us that I do not understand. It seems erratic but it occasionally seems to know things that it cannot possibly have found out.”

  “Dusko?” she sends, whispering, for all that I keep their mental channels discreet from each other.

  “No. I would have detected malfeasance on his part long before. Nor do I think he would risk my enmity, having seen the fate of others who have done so. I also believe him to be as trustworthy as one of his kind can be. He is too invested in our network and his survival without my protection is unlikely. No, it is something else. Guard yourself. Wrik would never forgive me if something happened to you on this mission.”

  “It seems we are very tied together, Kit-sister. It’s a good thing I like you so much.”

  “I am honored by it and return your affection in full measure.”

  “Give Wrik my love when he wakes.”

  “I shall. I will monitor you and Dusko both through a subroutine. You will not generally be aware of me and absent severe planetary storms the link should be stable. Anything unusual will bring my full attention on you.”

  “OK. I’ll see you both sometime after I’m down.”

  I remain silent for hours guarding my sleeping friend. Again I administer restorative and medications to heal the body he has been using too hard lately. Six hours later I make arrangements for breakfast. Again a live server brings up the meal. It is someone from the TAMPD operating undercover, but I have hacked enough of the payroll files to identify him.

  I hear the sounds of Wrik stirring and walk into the room bearing a tray with coffee and juice. Wrik is not a morning person. He opens his eyes at the smell and sits up, the blanket falling to his lap. He must have wakened and undressed in the night as his clothes are on the floor.

  I hand him the coffee. “Jaelle and Dusko have arrived. They are safely in orbit. Jaelle sends her love to you. She misses you and looks forward to being reunited.”

  “I wish I could talk to her.”

  “I can relay anything you want to say to her.”

  “That would be kind of awkward.”

  “She said much the same thing.”

  “Tell her I am well, and I miss her.”

  “I have. She says that her response would be too naughty for me.”

  He laughed. “That’s my girl.”

  Wrik finishes the coffee. “I’ll hit the shower.”

  I nod and sample the juice; complex molecules appeal to my palette.

  Wrik continues to look at me.

  “Yes?”

  “Um, I’m not wearing anything?”

  “Don’t you customarily sleep naked?”

  “Yes, I don’t customarily prance naked around the room in front of you though.”

  “Were you planning on actually prancing? That might be amusing to watch.”

  He sighed.

  “I take it,” I added, “that you are concerned by one of your societal taboos.”

  He nods.

  “I shall protect my virtue by closing my eyes and not peeking,” I say

  “Good,” he replies.

  I close my eyes and Wrik scampers off to the shower. Through a variety of other sensors I can detect every detail of his body.

  With Wrik occupied I switch my attention back to Jaelle. I have monitored her through a subroutine, as she transferred to the Guild lander. She has arrived in the cargo section of the city reserved for automatics. The area is pressurized and sealed. Through her eyes I see server-robos scurry about unloading the cargo, which would not have survived the pressure and corrosive atmosphere of Cimer. A small boarding tube snakes out to her ship. Guild work, as it brings a viable atmosphere to Jaelle and an exit from her ship.

  “Maauro,” she sends.

  “I am with you.”

  “Would that you were in body too.”

  “A sentiment I share.”

  “I’m armed and ready.”

  “Dusko?” I send.

  “I am linked to you and to Jaelle, but you were right communicating with both of you is difficult. I find myself confused—”

  “Retain your link with Jaelle and concentrate on advising her. I will maintain the link between us three but I will not speak to you save at great need.”

  “Agreed,” Dusko says, pain in his voice

  A series of clanks means that the boarding tube has reached the shuttle’s passenger compartment.

  I feel Jaelle steady herself; feel her senses sharpen and focus in a way that I had not experienced in my link with Wrik. While he is descended from apes that stood upright, she evolved from an omnivorous cat-like hunter. There is something appealing in her warrior-like focus that reminds me of myself as M-7.

  The door cycles open into a white hallway. Jaelle rises, settles her weapon on her leather-clad hip and strides into the corridor. The boarding tube takes her into a hallway. Two Guilders await her in the hall, a human male and a female Dua-Denlenn with a scarred face. Neither is obviously armed but I suspect concealed weapons.

  “Minogue?” says the female.

  Jaelle nods, careful to keep her hands clear of her weapon.

  “Say nothing,” Dusko advises over the link. “Make no small talk. This is not trade and you will convey weakness and an unhealthy curiosity if you do.”

  “We’ll take you to the Guildmaster. You’ll leave the hardware at the door or you do not see him.

  “Understood,” Jaelle replies, “I am familiar with the ways of Guildmasters. My own is no different.”

  They move through an industrial area, unobserved by the robots and the few biologicals in the area. With the machines, I believed it was electronic-blinding such as I myself did. With the biologicals, the blindness was affected most probably with bribes or intimidation. Once at a main junction they slip into a railcar and speed into the city proper. The section they eventually stop in is in the lower part of the floating city, a factory area with low-income residences and many inexpensive restaurants and entertainment sections.

  “We appear to have found the red-light district,” Jaelle sends.

  “The natural environment of the Guild,” I agree.

  They enter a building over a narrow street. It appears to be the sort of hock and pawn common to spaceports and stations where people can trade items for credits.

  At
the front desk an unassuming human greets Jaelle’s two escorts. The Dua-Denlenn extends a hand for Jaelle’s weapon. With a sigh, she hands it over.

  “Follow her,” the bald storekeeper says. “When you get out, come back to me for your weapon. We’ve had your gear moved to the Spacer’s Rest. It’s inexpensive and discrete.”

  “Be alert,” Dusko says. “The Guildmaster will be the next person you see.”

  Jaelle follows the other female. They go through a series of doors and pressure doors to a well-appointed room of luxurious furniture and fine art treasures, though these latter are of the eye-hurting Morok style. Jaelle scents a Morok in the room beyond. Her bat-like ears detect the door closing behind her and footsteps in the corridor.

  The back door swishes open and a heavy-set Morok enters. He looks at her through red-eyes, then pulls back a chair to an ornate desk made of actual wood and gestures at a chair well away from him. The Dua-Denlenn female takes up station between them and against the wall, immobile but alert.

  Jaelle approaches the Guild rep. The mental link between us gives me a sense of her body as well as what she is thinking. Her walk is confident, belying the anxiety that I read in her body chemistry. I am aware of her in a fashion that Dusko is not- he will only receive the direct thought communications that she pushes at him. I am a quantum computer at heart and my system can process vastly more data than he can. I realize with a shock how young, alive and vital she is. I feel the muscles of her lithe body move as she stalks forward.

  This is unsettling. Jaelle is Wrik’s lover, am I spying on her sensuality? Yet I find I am reluctant to reduce my awareness of her, yet with a fleeting sense of embarrassment I do so. I must concentrate on the Guild Rep.

  “I am Guild Rep Hartain,” the Morok begins. His ape-like body overspills the chair as he leans back to look up at Jaelle.

  “Fyvia Minogue from Manadar,” Jaelle says, “from the House of Madame Ferlan.”

  This is the central facet of our plan with the Guild. Ferlan had captured Wrik when I was on the trail of what turned out to be the Infester Artifact Planetoid. We knew more about her then anyone who was not true Guild would, because of the bizarre friendship that had developed between Wrik and the elderly Guildmaster. With her disappearance and presumed death there was little chance of our being exposed.

  “The Collector is well-know to us,” Hartain says, “a fine lady and a great asset of the Guild. How is the good Madame? One trusts that her many ventures prosper and that her enemies fail in their attempts on her life.”

  “I regret to say that my mistress has been lost on an expedition into uncharted space, along with most of her inner staff. Their vessel’s life support span having been exceeded and with no word of them, she has been officially declared dead.”

  “You bring dire and unpleasant news, young Minogue,” Hartain says, blinking rapidly, “tell me what your relationship is…was to Ferlan?”

  “A member of her house, I fulfilled a number of duties, aide-de-camp, and bodyguard. My background in deep space trade was often of use to her.”

  “And now you seek to freelance?”

  “Well, I do have my connections and Madame Ferlan’s estate is…unsettled. I have no desire to be involved in any resulting territorial adjustments. Truth be told I share much of my late mistresses’ wanderlust and love of ancient secrets. She often found great profit in them.”

  The Morok gave a guttural laugh. “It did not end so well for her, this love.”

  I feel Jaelle shrug. “She reached an advanced age for one so high in the Guild and in great luxury. In the end the claws of night close in on us all.”

  “Too true,” Hartain said. “So what can the local Guild chapter do for you?”

  “I have cargo to move; small arms, recreational drugs and such.”

  “The usual Guild cut of course.”

  “Of course. I can also pick up any communications you need taken back toward the inner systems. Perhaps you have cargoes that you need moved or special projects that require assistance?”

  Dusko’s voice whispered in Jaelle’s mind. “Do not overplay. He knows all this. The hook is baited. If you try to go too far too fast he will become suspicious. Complain about the Confed warship. Then wrap it up.”

  I must resist the desire to add my exhortation to his. The additional channel to her mind could be disorienting.

  “Damn bad luck to find a Confed warship here,” Jaelle says aloud. “Or is that common?”

  Hartain grimaces, his pronounced canines very much in evidence. “No, thank the Gods. Some officious snot of a lieutenant is grandstanding all over the station inspecting its habitability and operations. We have decreased operations while he is here. Some fool, I cannot find out who yet, actually tried to kill him. As a result the TAMPD under Croyzer, a name you will learn to detest the longer you stay here, is busting our collective reproductive organs.

  “Still the Confed won’t get anywhere near us. He may cause grave irritation to the Ribisan interests. He commands only an older scoutship with a small crew.”

  “Good,” Jaelle says, “then I should have little concern about remaining hidden. A cruiser would be throwing out fighter or shuttle patrols if only for practice.”

  The Morok gazed at her. “You seem to have played this game before.”

  “As I said, deep space trade was my profession. What trader hasn’t ducked customs or navy patrols?”

  “Well said. I will consider what you told me. Perhaps there will be some cargo for you. We are a small operation. It may be that we can benefit each other.”

  Jaelle nods. “Call on me when you decide. Your people know where to find me.” She made a Guild salute, the Morok returned the gesture and Jaelle backed away. Whether the Morok thought that odd, or merely sensible, he did not comment. Jaelle walked quickly through the door.

  “Slow down,” Dusko sent to her. “You must look like you are in friendly territory.”

  Jaelle obliged and I felt her breathing slow. A lightness came to her body that made me feel slightly dizzy.

  “Looks like I pulled it off, Kit-sister. What now?”

  “Proceed to the Spacer’s Rest. Await contact. Dusko, any thoughts?”

  “I do not like this head-to-head chatter. I prefer my thoughts kept private.”

  “Any more useful thoughts,” I send with some asperity. This evidently amuses Jaelle who gives a brief laugh.

  “You will be contacted by low level staff to relieve you of your cargo,” Dusko continued. “Bargain, but not too hard. Hartain will expect a good deal as you wish to ingratiate yourself with him, yet he will look to make sure you are not a fool. The balance is a delicate one. He will not wish to overplay his hand, as ships to his location are few. You might consider kicking him an additional 5% if he gives a guild pledge of a return cargo. He would not risk reneging on that, even with Ferlan’s House in disorder.”

  “Why?” Jaelle asks.

  “Because whoever inherits the house, inherits the grudges, debts and obligations and might be looking to make an example of someone unimportant as a warning to those more so.”

  “You live in a scary world, Dusko,” Jaelle sent.

  “It is the same one you inhabit. I just see it with fewer illusions than you or your boyfriend.”

  “Enough of that,” both Jaelle and I send at the same moment.

  Now it is our turn to feel amusement from the Dua-Denlenn.

  “Attend to your duties about the ship,” I order Dusko. He fades out of my mind.

  “I suppose I have to let you go too,” Jaelle says, but I feel a touch of fear from her. With the link closed she will be alone. While I can spare power to monitor her, the link is two-way and she cannot maintain it constantly with a biological body.

  “Yes,” I say. “Eat a large meal; the unit draws power from your body. You will find yourself�
�”

  “Starving, yes, already the case.”

  “Call Dusko when the Guild traders come. Call me if you are endangered or even if you are just afraid. There is no power drain on my side.”

  “Thanks, Kit-sister. It’s surprisingly comforting carrying you around in my head. But I wish your armored body was right here with me. Still you watch over Wrik, that’s what I want most. And remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “No kissing my boyfriend.”

  I consider. I do not think she had the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation in mind. “Order understood.”

  “Ok, Kit-sister. I’ll check in later or if I get any bad vibes. Over and out.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After another day of working our covers on Cimer, Wrik and Jaelle bedded down in their respective hotels but not until they complained to me about being so close and still so far apart. I sympathized but there is no present help for the situation. I am as glad that Wrik will be resting and continuing to recover from his two close brushes with death rather than seeking vigorous comfort in the arms of his Nekoan lover.

  Jaelle too could use a rest from the readings I am getting off her body after her first day of infiltration. Maintaining the mental link with me is far more draining for Jaelle than it is for Dusko. The Dua-Denlenn finds it painful mentally and curiously physically. Wrik is untroubled by our link but does not transmit much beyond those surface thoughts that he pushes at me. I am surprised that the difference in their species has made so much variance in how my biological friends interact with what is essentially an identical neural net in their brains. However I must more carefully ration the contact with Jaelle as it renders her fatigued and if she became any hungrier I might be concerned for lone pedestrians crossing her path.

  I must also confess that I find it somewhat unsettling how much of her personality comes across the link between us. I am flooded with unfamiliar sensations when linked to her that I do not experience with the others.

  I stand guard in Wrik’s room, while maintaining a light and periodic contact with Jaelle, enough to tell that she too is asleep and uninjured. Above, Dusko continues his solitary watch on the skies, monitoring any traffic, looking for signs of other vessels. He is in direct contact with Pisces on a secured channel, monitoring the AI and fake crewmembers and their occasional interactions with ground base.