The Aleph Extraction

by Dan Moren

  His grip on the tablet tightened. He still had a job to do. Getting the tablet to a safe place was his top priority; after that, he could worry about regrouping with the rest of the team.

  Raising his sleeve, he brought up the schematics Nat had downloaded and plotted a course to the lifeboat banks they’d scouted earlier.

  They weren’t far: down a few junction corridors and around a corner or two. The hallways were deserted, again probably because of the lockdown, but as Kovalic rounded the last corner to the lifeboats, he caught a glimpse of a pair of White Star security personnel, armed with the heavy duty crowd control weapons colloquially called “bouncers.” About the size of a shotgun, they used repulsors to generate concussive waves that packed a much bigger punch than a KO gun. Nominally they were less-lethal, but get thrown into a wall by one at close range and you’d be lucky to get up again.

  Kovalic flattened himself to the wall. These two didn’t look like they were on patrol – it seemed like they were stationed at this junction, probably watching in case somebody made a move on the lifeboats. He’d need a distraction.

  He patted down his pockets, but all he came up with was lint. Which just left the priceless artifact he was holding.

  OK, so he’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.

  Unwrapping the slab from its covering, he ran a hand over the surface and marveled again at its smoothness. It was less like metal and almost more like stone. Or glass. Regardless, it ought to slide pretty well, especially as the short-weave carpet of the corridor gave way to the slicker decking by the escape pods. Hey, rugs were expensive to clean.

  Winding up, he leaned around the corner and heaved the tablet as hard as he could at the guards. It whooshed across the floor, smooth as you please, getting the immediate attention of the two security personnel as it slid right up to their feet. They both looked down at it and then at each other.

  That was all the opening Kovalic needed. By the time they’d looked up again, he’d covered more than half of the distance, and they didn’t have time to bring their weapons up before he’d closed. Leading with his knee, he caught the first guard in the stomach, knocking him back and to the ground.

  Guard number two’s jaw dropped, his gun almost forgotten as he watched his partner go down. Kovalic rolled off the man he’d knocked down, bringing his weapon along for the ride. The other guard didn’t even have a chance to close his mouth before Kovalic squeezed the trigger on the bouncer and hit him square in the torso.

  The concussion blast lifted the guard off the floor, almost into the low ceiling, and tossed him backwards ten feet before he hit the ground and slid into a bulkhead.

  With his elbow, Kovalic jabbed the man he’d downed sharply in the face and heard his head bounce off the floor.

  Sometimes the old-fashioned ways were the best.

  Claiming the bouncer, he retrieved the tablet and secured it in its wrapping, then slung the weapon across his back.

  There were, as Nat had reported, five escape pods in the bay. Above each lifeboat hatch shone a red light. While the Queen Amina was still in the wormhole, the lifeboats were locked down unless authorized by the command staff.

  But there had to be a manual override for the doors somewhere. If the command deck was incapacitated for whatever reason, you couldn’t leave people trapped on the ship. That was a quick route to mishap and, eventually, getting sued. Same reason that the lifeboats could be launched from the lifeboats themselves or remotely.

  The manual controls weren’t hard to find; it was the work of a moment for Kovalic to break the rather pathetic lock on the wall panel. Five large levers stared back at him; pulling the top one, he watched as the light above the leftmost pod switched from red to green.

  Now unlocked, the lifeboat door ground open at his approach. As he entered, the interior lighting blinked on. It was a fairly standard layout: twelve crash couches that could, in a pinch, fit two people each; plenty of containers of food; and two self-sufficient refresher units. The facilities could accommodate full capacity for a couple weeks if need be, and there were compartments containing two dozen vacsuits – identical to the one Brody had recently ditched – in case of emergency.

  Crossing to the second couch from the right, he started yanking up the memory foam pads there. If the standard layout held out, there ought to be a storage locker underneath this couch with a mechanic’s tool kit. Hopefully not the sort of thing you ever really needed on a lifeboat, because if you had to repair something, chances were you were toast already.

  But removing the toolkit provided a compact, well-secured niche where you could fit, say, a rectangular package a couple inches of high.

  A crackle sounded in his earbud and he frowned, tapping at it. For a moment, he thought he’d heard a voice. Nat?

  “Aegis? That you?”

  If there was a response, he didn’t hear it. He opened the toolkit and unpacked it, putting all the tools back, loose, under the foam pad. Even with the tools there would be just enough room to wedge in the tablet, though it’d be tight. Pushing the crash-couch’s cushion down, he picked up the toolkit case and walked back towards the hatch. Wouldn’t do for a loose case to be banging around if the lifeboat needed to be pressed into service.

  Raising his sleeve, he brought up the mission clock. Five minutes before the Queen Amina exited the wormhole. If they could make it that long, they ought to be home free.

  “…sair… in.”

  He slowed. That was definitely Nat’s voice, but the transmission was still garbled. He pressed the earbud tighter, as though that would improve the intelligibility.

  “Repeat, Aegis. You’re breaking up.”

  “…ch out… yricans…”

  Kovalic stepped out of the lifeboat and back into the corridor where he’d left the incapacitated guards. Maybe he could get a better signal there.

  “That’s just far enough, major,” said a voice that was most definitely not coming in over the comms.

  He looked up to find the muzzle of the other downed guard’s bouncer pointed directly at him. Behind it, Mirza wore a stony expression. “Put down the case and the weapon, then step aside.”

  Perfect timing. He’d expected nothing less from her. Slowly, Kovalic laid the case next to the lifeboat hatch and unslung the bouncer, placing it on top of the case. Then he raised his hands and stepped forward. “I guess my reprieve ran out.”

  Mirza gestured with the gun. “I told you what would happen next time I saw you, Kovalic. Fair warning.”

  “More than fair.”

  Closing the distance, Mirza kicked Kovalic’s bouncer away; it skittered across the floor. “I have to say, hiding the tablet on the lifeboat was an inspired choice. Easy getaway and with your backdoor into the ship’s systems you might even be able to convince the Queen Amina personnel that its launch was a malfunction or false reading. Then, what, you just swoop back later and pick it up, nice as you please?”

  “I don’t know why you’re asking. You seem to have it all worked out.”

  Mirza stepped forward, motioning with the bouncer for him to turn around. “Hands on your head, spread your legs.” When he’d complied, she quickly patted him down, checking his jacket and pants pockets.

  “I can assure you, I’m otherwise unarmed,” said Kovalic.

  She removed a small black ovoid from one of his pockets and held it up, taking a step back. “Turn around. Keep your hands up.”

  “Just a baffle,” said Kovalic, as he faced her again. “Nothing nefarious about it. It’s not going to blow up or anything.”

  “Oh, nothing nefarious for you, perhaps,” said Mirza, allowing a tight smile to cross her face. “But that’s because you weren’t looking in the right place. I have to thank you for stealing the tablet from the Queen Amina’s vault; that was quite impressive. And it saved me a lot of trouble. Because if there’s one thing we both know, it’s far easier to steal from another thief. All you need is a good source of information.” She clicked the baf
fle on, the red light on it glowing as Kovalic felt the pressure push in on his ears.

  He frowned. “But the baffle should have stopped any listening devices you…”

  Mirza clicked the baffle off and Kovalic’s ears popped. “Which is why I bugged the baffle itself. Before we had our little chat in your stateroom. As long as it was active, it transmitted everything it could hear directly to my team.”

  “Damn clever,” said Kovalic, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “So, what now?”

  “Now you step aside, and I get what I came for.” She motioned at him with the bouncer again.

  “Well, when you make that convincing an argument.” He stepped away from the hatch to the lifeboat as Mirza walked over, keeping the weapon trained on him. “You don’t miss a trick, do you, commander? I did appreciate that aspect of our brief partnership.”

  “I prepare for every eventuality, major. You should understand that part of our jobs. But, then again, if you did, perhaps our situations would be reversed. Step into the doorway where I can see you, please.”

  Kovalic complied, hands still up. They were getting a little tired. “I find it next to impossible to prepare for every possible outcome. So I settle for the most likely ones.” Another blurt of static in his ear, and he thought he could hear the faint sound of Nat’s voice trying to punch through.

  Mirza backed into the lifeboat, keeping her weapon on Kovalic as she peered around the interior. “And yet, the difficulty is figuring out which outcomes are the most likely, is it not? Who, for example, could have predicted that we would be where we are right now?”

  Extending one finger, Kovalic pointed at her without lowering his hands. “See, that is a great point. I guess I’ve always thought of myself as a student of human behavior. People are, to a certain extent, predictable.”

  In front of him, Mirza’s eyes alit on the slightly rumpled cushion of the crash couch. Kovalic cleared his throat, trying to draw her attention back to him. Keep her distracted. Just a little longer.

  “Do you mind if I put my hands down, by the way? They’re getting a bit tired.”

  “Keep them up,” Mirza snapped, waving the bouncer at him, even as she reached back and pulled away the cushion, revealing the tablet’s wrapping. She smiled again, but there was no mirth in it; just satisfaction in a job well done. Mirza wasn’t the type to celebrate. “You’re right,” she said. “People are predictable.”

  Another blast of static in Kovalic’s ear, and he tried not to wince, but then a voice came, thank god, crystal clear. “Simon? Goddamn it, tell me this worked. I’ve had a hell of a time fighting off one of Mirza’s goons and cutting through whatever jamming they laid down, but I’ve got control back. Just tell me when.”

  Just in time, too. The mission clock was inching toward zero and they’d be out of the wormhole in moments. Kovalic smiled back at Mirza, though more one from relief than anything else. “So glad we agree.”

  Mirza’s brow furrowed, but as she reached over to pull out the wrapping, realization started to dawn on her face.

  Just not quite fast enough.

  While her attention was elsewhere, Kovalic dove backwards out of the lifeboat hatchway, hitting the deck in the hallway. “Now, Nat. Now.”

  A concussion blast and a curse came through the hatchway almost simultaneously, but the shot went over Kovalic’s head. Then the lifeboat hatch slammed shut between him and Mirza, the light above it turning red again.

  Kovalic climbed to his feet and returned to the hatch. A small porthole was inset in the door and through it he could see Mirza’s face, contorted with anger as she yelled at him, but the material was thick, designed to withstand the rigors of space travel, and no sound penetrated.

  Kovalic pointed to his ear and shook his head, even as Mirza waved the empty wrapping at him. He mouthed an “ah,” then reached down and picked up the toolkit he’d been carrying and raised it in front of the porthole. Her eyes went wide as Kovalic opened the clasps and removed the tablet that he’d stowed there.

  “Sim… Corsair? Did that work?” Nat’s voice came across the earbud, sounding concerned.

  Kovalic tapped his earbud. “Like a charm, Aegis. Get the lifeboat ready to launch on my mark. Oh, and can you patch me through to its intercom?”

  “One sec.” There was a squelch of static. “You’re on.”

  “–uck you, Kovalic,” came Mirza’s voice across the comm. “Fuck you and your whole fucking team…” It kept going in a line of nearly unbroken invective and expletive.

  Kovalic cleared his throat. “Language, commander.”

  “Kovalic? How the fuck?”

  “We just agreed people are predictable, commander. I knew you’d have bugged the stateroom somehow. But then you made a mistake, with your strategy of a thousand little cuts. First you lock us out of our stateroom, so I knew the bug couldn’t be in there. Then your subsequent plays were just a little too sloppy. Siccing Cortez on us? Trying to kill us in a lift car? Your heart just wasn’t in it. It was enough to remind us that you were still out there, but not so much that it actually stopped us from doing the job. Why not? Because you wanted us to do your heavy lifting for you. Once I figured that out, it wasn’t hard to deduce that you’d put the bug in the one thing that we’d assume wasn’t a bug, that we would carry with us no matter where we went. So it was just a matter of feeding you a story that you’d believe.” He waved a hand at the lifeboat. “And, of course, a little help from my friends.”

  “When I get out of here, I’m going to shove that tablet so far up your–”

  “Let me stop you right there, because I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is you’re not getting out of that lifeboat for a while. The good news is,” he paused to glance at his sleeve, on which the mission clock was now running into negative numbers, “we’ve officially cleared the wormhole and you’ve got enough food for weeks. Emergency rations aren’t tasty, but they’ll keep you alive until someone finds the lifeboat distress beacon.”

  Mirza’s eyes widened as she took in his words and she stumbled back from the porthole, raising the bouncer again.

  Kovalic tipped her a salute. “Aegis, send her on her way.”

  “With pleasure.”

  The red light above the lifeboat door started blinking furiously.

  Mirza’s mouth opened in a scream as she pulled the trigger. “Kovaliiiiiiii–”

  There was a muted thwump as the explosive charges fired, jettisoning the lifeboat into space and disconnecting the intercom connection. Through the porthole, Kovalic watched the pod spin away, quickly losing any sight of Mirza, though he thought he saw the rippling splash of a concussion shot against the porthole. It wouldn’t be enough to cause any damage to the pod, but the recoil probably wouldn’t do Mirza any favors at that range.

  Kovalic tapped his earbud. “Nice work, Aegis. You need any backup?”

  “Nope. Situation is under control here.”

  “Meet you at the rendezvous point, then. Let’s just hope that the boys have done their part.”

  “Well,” said Nat, “there’s a first time for everything.”

  CHAPTER 26

  It took ten minutes of crawling through junction tubes, climbing down ladders, and ducking into maintenance tunnels before Eli finally found his way back out onto the Queen Amina’s deck. Kicking out a vent, he emerged into a disused corridor somewhere on the ship’s lower levels.

  There was, fortunately, nobody around to see him stagger out, somewhat grimier and worse for wear than he’d gone in. His shirt was ragged at the edges and stained with sweat, one trouser knee already torn through.

  This is why I can’t have nice things.

  His hands started to tremble as the reminder of everything he’d done in the last hour finally caught up to him the way the sound of the explosion followed the flash. As if the spacewalk hadn’t been bad enough, his body wouldn’t be forgiving him for the trip up that vault shaft any time soon. Like riding a water slide in reverse.
Which made it sound a lot more fun than it had actually been.

  He gave himself time for three more deep breaths to settle his nerves, then got back to it. Kovalic had given him a job to do, and if they were going to get out of here – if they were all going to get out of here – he needed to do his part.

  Leaning against the bulkhead, he raised his sleeve and tried to initiate a direct connection with Tapper. “Bruiser, this is Updraft, do you copy?”

  The sergeant came back immediately. “You’re still alive, kid? I think I lost twenty credits to the commander.”

  “I’m not sure whether it’s more upsetting that you were betting on whether or not I’d survive or the fact that you bet against me.”

  “Gotta play the odds. And it didn’t go quite as planned, if this lockdown’s any indication.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. We still need a way off this boat. Any ideas?”

  There was a pause from the other end of the line, and then Tapper’s voice came back with what, to Eli’s ears, was a surprisingly cagey response. “Yeah, I got one. Where are you?”

  “Uhhh,” Eli eyed the wall until he found an ID plate. “Sub-deck 13, section 21A.”

  “Copy. I’m just a few sections down. There’s a bar back near the main hub; meet me there in ten.”

  Eli pushed his way through a pair of swinging doors and into a bar that felt like it had been jammed into an unused maintenance crawlway. Then again, that might have been the theme of the place. People were drinking out of tin mugs and whatever the bartender was pulling looked like it was coming straight out of one of the conduits in the wall.

  Industrial chic?

  Tapper was sitting at the bar, jawing with the bartender, a woman with bronze skin and a swept back fade of black hair. An abstract tattoo curled around one bare, muscled shoulder. As Eli walked in, she threw her head back and laughed at something the sergeant said.

  “Making friends wherever you go,” said Eli, pulling up a chair.