by Dan Moren
Tapper raised his cup and took a swig. “That’s my gift.”
“Well, while you’ve been charming the locals, I had to spacewalk across the hull – fell off once, by the way – fight off some White Star goons, and crawl through roughly five klicks of maintenance tubes. But I hope you enjoyed your drink.”
The sergeant smacked his lips. “Not much on taste, but boy does it have some kick.”
The bartender reappeared and gave Eli an appraising look, at least until Tapper slapped him on the shoulder. “Friend of mine. He’ll have what I’m having.”
With a grin, the woman selected another cup – Eli hoped it had been washed sometime this month – and pulled a long stream of something dark that could have been coolant or maybe a porter. She put it in front of Eli, with an expectant look.
You know what? I was raised on Saltyre’s whiskey. I can handle a little homemade ale on a luxury starcruiser.
He smiled, clinked the cup with Tapper’s, and threw back a gulp.
Unlike the beer from the other night, which had been watery to the point of, well, water, this ale was strong, in taste and alcohol. The former was a mix of smoky and umami, with a mouthfeel that stabbed you in the sinus; the latter made itself known in a deep bitter aftertaste that felt like it would hang out in the back of your throat for at least a couple of days.
Eli hid a cough by wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. “Good,” he rasped. “Really good.”
The bartender’s grin had only broadened as he downed it and she gave him a look very near a respectful nod before going to check on her other customers.
Pushing the drink away, Eli turned to Tapper and lowered his voice. “So, what exactly are we doing here?”
“Working on our exfil. The lockdown’s made things… complicated.”
Eli looked around the bar, which, if not full, had at least a dozen people in it. “They don’t seem too bothered by it around here.”
“These are the staff and maintenance crews, kid. Essential personnel are all at their stations, but everybody else, well, they pretty much live here – it’s their ship as much as Xi’s.”
“And she lets them?”
“She can’t very well run the ship without them. They have a whatchamacallit… understanding.”
Not a heart of gold, maybe, but a heart that understands exactly what gold is worth.
“So,” said Eli. “What’s this great plan you’ve got, then?” He’d been running through ideas since he’d left Kovalic, but none of them had felt like they offered odds any better than a coin toss.
“Well,” said Tapper, cradling his cup, “it’s going to take some work, and we’ll need someone who can hack into some pretty protected systems. So I took the liberty of calling in a favor from a… friend.”
A friend? Do we even have any –
“Oh, hey guys,” said an unassuming voice from behind them. “Started without me, huh?”
Eli looked up into the sunny face of ostensible ship tech assistant – and actual stowaway – Cary Maldonado.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
Kovalic’s place of temporary employment, the noodle shop, was closed up tighter than a defunct wormhole gate when he arrived there fifteen minutes later. He’d seen people out and about during the lockdown, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bustling as it had been the other day. Still, at least he and Nat, when she showed up a couple minutes after him, didn’t stand out.
“Everything good?” she asked.
Kovalic patted the toolkit. “Safe and sound.”
“The boys?”
“Working on an exit now. They’ll ping us when they’ve got something.”
She nodded, but her expression turned troubled. “That just leaves our friend Maverick. She’s really living up to that callsign.”
Kovalic’s lips pressed together. Sayers. She hadn’t just left the rule book behind – she’d practically burned it. But you couldn’t argue that she’d got the job done. And her reward was… well, Kovalic didn’t want to think about the gory details, but Xi was not going to be pleased.
Nat hesitated. “In terms of OPSEC, Sayers doesn’t know much beyond our names and unit designation. She hasn’t even met the general.”
“You’re suggesting we burn her?” Kovalic said, one eyebrow going up.
Nat’s expression hardened. “I’m looking at all the options, Simon. Like an XO should. We don’t have the resources to mount a rescue right now. And that,” she nodded at the toolkit, “is still our top priority.”
Kovalic’s grip tightened on the handle. There was a fine line between priceless and valueless, and the Aleph Tablet was skirted right along the edge. “Let’s set Maverick aside for the moment. We need to get in touch with al-Kitab and see if he can authenticate it. But Xi’s going to have eyes on him, and no doubt she’ll have tagged at least me in the security system. Brody too.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”
Kovalic blinked at the smile on Nat’s face. “OK, I’ll bite. What’d you do?”
“My access to the security system is still limited, but the bigger these systems are, the more security holes there are that don’t get patched. I poked around a bit, and I can’t remove your biometrics, but it turns out I can change your classification.”
“Uh, do I want to know to what?”
“To something that can go pretty much anywhere and not get noticed. Congratulations, you’re now a maintenance drone.”
A laugh, the first real one he’d had in a while, bubbled up out of Kovalic, and he felt a small degree of tension lift from his shoulders. “Did you bring me a broom too?”
“Couldn’t find one on short notice. But I also reclassified Brody, Tapper, and myself,” said Nat. Her lips pressed together too. “And Sayers. Just in case.”
Kovalic let out a breath. “Damn good work. That ought to buy us some breathing room. But Xi’s not the only one I’m worried about. We got rid of Mirza, but some of her team is still unaccounted for.”
“Down one, at least. I ran into the tall, dark-haired guy you saw in the hallway. He’s enjoying the inside of a supply cabinet for the moment. I’m sure he’ll find his way out eventually, though.”
“But we still don’t know how big her team is.”
“Well, if the one Sayers took out in the casino was one of them, then it’s at least three.”
“I’d wager there’s one or two more; and if we haven’t seen them yet, that makes them especially dangerous. Let’s keep our heads on a swivel.”
“Always.”
Eli tugged on the collar of his borrowed uniform as they rode the lift upward. It was a little tight, but neither of the White Star security staff who had showed up when they broke into the clothing store had been quite his size.
He still wasn’t thrilled about being the bait in the first part of Tapper’s plan. Mainly, he was lucky the guards hadn’t stunned first and asked questions later. Their attention had been on him, hands on their weapons, when Tapper and Mal had stepped out from behind them and knocked them out with heavy bars repurposed from a clothing rack. Somehow, one of the security uniforms had fit Tapper perfectly. Of course.
Meanwhile, his own trouser cuffs didn’t quite reach his ankles and he felt like he was about to pop the fasteners on the tunic. The good news was that the lockdown meant both had been carrying not only KO guns, but also less-lethal concussion grenades. Their sleeves were useless, however – the second they’d knocked the guards out, the devices had been locked and required an access code. And, being unconscious, they weren’t about to generously supply said codes.
If Mal had any problem with knocking out a pair of security guards and stealing their uniforms, it didn’t show. Currently, the tech was humming to themself as they consulted a small tablet.
“You really think this is going to work?” said Eli, trying to pull his tunic’s cuffs down to his wrists. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”
“Relax, kid,” said
Tapper, lounging against the back of the lift. “Trust me.”
If he asks me to get in another spacesuit, I am out.
With the lockdown on, the lift hadn’t been enthusiastic about accommodating them, but after a few moments of poking around Mal had convinced it that they had every right in the world to be there. And so they found themselves speeding upwards to a level to which normally they wouldn’t have access.
Eli checked the charge on his KO gun for what seemed like the seventh time. Green. If he needed to use it, he could. But he hadn’t fired a weapon in a long time, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to pick up the habit again. Given that it’s stun-only, and my training is probably almost a decade out of date, the likelihood of even hitting anybody – much less injuring them – is pretty low.
They hadn’t checked in with Kovalic and Taylor – maintaining radio silence as much as possible had been the order of the day, just in case Xi’s personnel or Mirza’s squad had compromised their frequencies. And, in part, because they weren’t quite ready to let Mal in on the whole story yet.
Tapper seemed unconcerned about this sudden full autonomy, but his confidence hadn’t bled over to Eli. I would feel a lot better if I knew what the rest of the team was up to.
The lift slowed to a stop as they reached their floor, and the doors slid open.
Eli hadn’t spent a lot of time in the casinos onboard. It hadn’t been part of his cover, and he didn’t think that he’d be especially good at games of chance. My luck has always been mediocre at best. There was something about setting foot in the fancy surroundings that immediately made him feel like he was a salmon that had jumped right out of the water.
An elbow caught him in the ribs; Tapper was giving him a significant look. The older man nodded down at his torso – White Star livery. Right. They weren’t here as guests.
So he followed Tapper’s lead as the sergeant strode in like he owned the place, lock, stock, and barrel. “Who’s in charge here?” he barked.
The lockdown had cleared out the guests, who had no doubt all been escorted back to their rooms, leaving only a pair of security guards, a bartender, a few waitstaff, and the casino staff, who were sitting around one of the gaming tables.
“I am,” said a compact white woman with iron gray hair, pushing herself off the bar and crossing her arms across her chest. Eli tried not to let himself gawp as his eyes slowly went from her face back to Tapper’s. It’s like long-lost twins. “And who the devil are you?” She looked Tapper up and down with the scrutiny of an x-ray scanner.
“Is this what you call lockdown procedure?” Tapper bulled onward, ignoring her queries. “No defensive line at the lift door? Civilians lounging around? I bet that bar isn’t even closed down. Disgraceful.”
“Now wait just a goddamned minute. I don’t know who you think you are, but this is my floor.”
“Not for long, once I report this woeful performance to Security Chief Cortez,” said Tapper, seemingly pulling the name out of his unmentionables.
While the sergeant was holding the attention of the room, Eli had walked over to the bar, avoiding his natural inclination to smile at the bartender, who seemed the friendly sort. Instead, he tried to channel his best Tapper scowl as he peered around, as if in search of infractions. Mal, meanwhile, lingered by the door to the lift, doing an able impersonation of a tech dragooned into service by a couple of security guards.
“Well,” said the woman, raising her arm. “Let’s just see about that, shall we? I can call him right now.”
“In the middle of a lockdown?” Tapper said. “Don’t you think he has better things to do? That’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t know you from Adam. And I sure as hell don’t take orders from you. We’ll let the chief sort this out.”
Eli’s eyes seized on an unstoppered bottle of rum just behind the bar.
“Boss,” he said, waving to Tapper. “You were right. Liquor’s not even secured!”
The sergeant made a loud tch-ing sound, shaking his head in disgust as he stalked over to the bar. “Next you’ll tell me that they’ve got open flames!”
The woman had lowered her sleeve in favor of resting a hand warily on the KO gun at her hip. “Step away from the bar.”
“Stand easy,” said Tapper, waving a hand. “We clearly got off on the wrong foot.” He swiped the bottle of opened rum, ignoring the bartender’s stifled protestations, and turned around, proffering it towards the woman. “How about we have a drink and talk about this like civilized folk.”
Iron gray brows knit over the security guard’s suspicious eyes. “Drinking on duty is also against protocol.”
Tapper raised the bottle in her direction. “I won’t tell the chief if you don’t.”
She didn’t make a move toward it, so Tapper turned toward the other security guard, a tall, rangy woman with dark hair. She opened her mouth to respond and then, at one glare from her boss, shut it again, and took a step backward.
“Oh, for fuck’s… I’ve had just about enough of this,” the gray-haired woman said, and out came the KO gun, pointed towards them. “I’m placing you both under detention for suspicion of dereliction of duty. Come quietly, or I will stun the hell out of you.”
Tapper glanced at Eli, then shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. “Whew,” he said, when he came back up for air. “That’s the good stuff. No expense spared up here, kid. You want some?”
Eli looked at the bottle, then back at the woman aiming a weapon at them. “Uh. I’m good?”
“Suit yourself. Sorry, love, what were you saying?” This last was addressed back at the woman and seemed, if anything, to enrage her further.
“You know what? Fuck you. Nighty nigh–” Her finger pulled the trigger.
The next part happened almost too fast for Eli to follow as Tapper swung the bottle around by its bottom, spraying a stream of rum between them and the oncoming blue ripples from the knockout gun.
Where the two intersected, a crackling sheet of electricity flickered and sparked, miniature white bolts of lightning zapping and then disappearing, even as the liquid evaporated. The stun field never even made it to them.
Eli had already started to duck out of the way, but as the field dissipated, he found himself meeting the equally wide eyes of the woman who’d just tried to shoot them.
“I guess nobody ever taught you that stun fields don’t play well with liquid,” said Tapper, hefting the bottle. “That’s why you can’t use them underwater. They probably figure you don’t need to know that on a starship.” Before his opposite number could even react, he’d smoothly drawn his own KO gun and fired; the security officer’s eyes rolled back in her head as she slumped to the deck. His weapon was on the second guard before she’d even managed to draw her sidearm.
“Two fingers,” said Tapper, nodding to the guard’s weapon. “And kick it over to me.”
She hastily complied, and the sergeant stuck the other weapon in his holster.
Around the room, the rest of the staff had frozen, most doing their level best to fade into the filigreed wallpaper. The bartender had her hands up, eyes flicking back and forth between Eli and Tapper. Even Mal was staring at them, slightly agog.
It’s all fun and games until the shooting starts.
“All right,” said Tapper, waving his weapon at the remaining security guard. “You’re going to give us the code for that door up there.” He gestured to an entryway located at the top of a pair of winding staircases.
Color drained from the young woman’s face and Eli could see a bead of sweat appear on her forehead, trickling its way in a saline path down her jawline. “I… I can’t.”
“Well, not with that attitude.”
“But she’ll kill me!” Her eyes went to the door and Eli had a pretty good idea that the “she” in question wasn’t her unconscious superior.
Tapper lowered the KO gun. “Look, I ain’t going to lie: I’m not going to kill you. And from what I’ve heard, your boss is a
piece of work. But I can say with relative certainty that she’s going to have bigger things to worry about, so maybe you’d better find a new job before she works her way down to you.” He hooked a thumb in his belt. “I tell you what: you help us out, and I’ll make sure you have a better offer by the time you hit port.”
Her throat bobbed. “You… what?”
“This boat’s headed to Hamza, right? I know the head of baggage logistics at Said Spaceport. Not glamorous, but it’s an honest day’s work.”
“I… You’re going to get me a job?” Befuddlement was writ large on her face, and Eli could sympathize. Tapper could have that effect on people.
There was a chime from behind them and Tapper looked over his shoulder at the lift that they’d arrived in, its door now cleverly camouflaged with the wall.
Oh shit, someone’s coming up. One of the staff had probably hit some sort of silent alarm, but Eli wasn’t sure which one; they were all maintaining bland looks of innocence. “Uh, we should go, right?”
Tapper stepped closer to the guard, hands up. “Look, I’m giving you an opportunity here. Change your circumstances.”
The guard’s eyes darted between the lift door and Tapper. “I’m sorry… I wish I could. It’s just too risky.”
Eli thought he could detect the regret in Tapper’s face. You can’t save everyone. His stomach twinged as the faces of Page and Sayers and even his brother Eamon flashed before his eyes. No, you couldn’t save anyone. You just did the best you could.
“Understood,” said Tapper. “Just… give us a head start, huh?”
“Sure,” said the guard, looking down at the floor. “I didn’t see nothing.”
His face grim, Tapper nodded to Mal and Eli, and the three of them made their way up the staircase. The guard they’d stunned was groaning and stirring, the stun already wearing off, so they didn’t dawdle.
Tapper nodded at the tech. “Open ’er up, kid.”
“Right, right,” said Mal, fumbling with their sleeve and holding it up to the door lock.
Another chime from the far end of the room as the lift approached the floor. The staff were beginning to peel themselves off the walls, looking back and forth between the trio on the staircase and the approaching lift. Calculating the odds.
