“Do you believe me? Will you help us?”
Malik purses his lips, his eyes darting over my face, flaying me open to expose all the ugly innards. He sighs, though, and turns back to the stove, adding broth to the pan and turning the heat down to a simmer.
“Nax, I don’t know where you got it that I hate you, when you’re the one who completely cut me off. You wouldn’t even see me before I left for Ellis. I’ve never hated you.”
The urge to lash out rises hard and fast in my chest, but I clamp down on it at the last second. My cheeks and eyes burn.
Malik continues. “But you know what? We don’t really have time to play family meeting right now. You may not have the best track record, Nax, but that doesn’t mean I don’t trust you. You’ve never been a liar. If you say this planet is in danger, that everyone is in danger, then we need to do something about it. I’ll help you.”
The tension pressing down on my chest releases so suddenly that I get lightheaded, and I steady myself on Rion’s shoulder for a moment. I still feel the thrum of shame hot under my skin and beating in my chest—airing all my failures in front of everyone like that, what an asshole—and I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look Malik in the eye again. Not that I’d ever planned to. And the others . . . how am I supposed to fly the Kick with them on board, knowing that they know my piloting history?
But Malik’s going to help. We’re going to stop Earth First. That’s more important than my issues. I’ll just have to deal.
Malik puts a lid on the pan, then gestures for all of us to follow him through the living room into the single bedroom. We pile in, crammed awkwardly around the giant bed that takes up most of the room. From the corner, Zee catches my gaze and smiles encouragingly, tapping her hand twice over her heart. Asra fiddles with her tablet and projects the list of GCC contacts her stepdad sent her while Malik throws open the closet and digs into the hanging clothes.
“Getting you into the port will be easy, but moving around once we’re there will be much more difficult.” He tosses me a crisp black spaceport security uniform jacket identical to the one he’s currently wearing, then throws two more jackets and three pairs of pressed black slacks onto the bed.
“That’s all I’ve got,” he says. “We can’t take everyone, and honestly, the fewer the better. Less conspicuous, and—”
His eyes zero in on Asra’s list, lighting up the bare wall above the bed.
“What’s this?”
Asra bites her lip and turns to the group. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you all that I received a message from Jace. He wanted me to rat you out. Offered me lots of money, but conveniently neglected to mention that I’d never get to spend it because I wasn’t on the list of ‘loved ones to be spared.’ He sent this list of people I could sell you out to.”
Malik narrows his eyes.
“I recognize some of these names.” He steps closer and scans the full list, then traces a circle around a group of four. “These people all worked in IT at the spaceport. They were fired last week. We all assumed they’d been involved in some shady net-hosting issue. Lots of new policies, no more offsite access, and we got a memo that the new server they installed wouldn’t be accessible until next week. These two,” he said, indicating two more, “just left on vacation two days ago. The first guy on the list is my boss. Daniel Akiyama is head of spaceport security.”
“Let me guess,” Asra interrupts. “Also on vacation?”
“Just left yesterday.” Malik presses his lips into a grim smile. “I think it’s safe to say they’re all heading for Ellis Station to avoid the upcoming . . . whatever. Damn, I can’t believe this has all been happening right under my nose. Though it does explain a few things.”
Case waves a hand for him to elaborate. “Like?”
“I think at one point they were trying to recruit me. Feeling me out, seeing what my views were. If I were given the option to permanently return to Earth, would I take it, that sort of thing.”
My heart thuds painfully. I’ve been carefully avoiding asking myself that same question. “And what did you say?”
“That I missed my family and would love to see them again, but that I loved my life and my work out here and wouldn’t trade it. That I had made my decision when I left and I was happy with it.” He pauses, looks up at the ceiling. “Besides, I knew you would be out here as soon as you could, so I’d have you to think about, too. I was hoping we’d be in touch.”
His words are like a knife to my chest, far more painful than I expected. I’ve been hating him with everything I had for two years, but he thought of me. He wanted me out here.
Have I got this all wrong?
I shake out the uniform and hold it up against my body. Looks like a perfect fit. We really are almost twins, now that I’ve grown a few inches and caught up. Except for the scar, of course. I quickly force my mind off that train of thought.
“This is a good thing, though,” Rion says, grabbing one of the spare uniforms to pass to Case. “These people were definitely involved, so their offices and the projects they were involved in are a good start for the investigation. I’m assuming Case needs to go so that if the weapon is there, she can use her fancy genius degrees to figure out what it is and how it works. Anyone else?”
I look the others over one by one, considering. We probably won’t need Zee’s medical expertise, and if we do, then we’re probably boned anyway. And as useful as Rion’s ability to talk his way in or out of anything can be, I think Malik will be better at talking his way around trouble, since he works for the spaceport and knows the people. Asra, on the other hand . . .
“Asra, what do you think about the whole server install thing, the IT people who got fired?” I ask.
She’s already snagged a jacket and a pair of trousers, though, two steps ahead of me as usual. “I guarantee that’s a private server for Earth First stuff. If they have records of their shipments, that’s where they’ll be. They’ll have it locked down and quarantined on the network, but I can work with that.”
The others agree. Case slips the uniform jacket on and holds the slacks up to the curve of her waist, checking the length. She’s not as tall as me, but she’s definitely not short, so we should be able to make it work. Asra, though . . .
“I’ve got some slacks that should work better for you. You’ll drown in those,” a new voice says from the bedroom doorway.
A familiar voice.
“Brenn?” I gape. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my house,” she says. She squeezes past us to open a dresser drawer and tosses a much shorter pair of dress trousers to Asra, then pulls my brother down for a peck on the lips. “When you didn’t come say hi while you were at the shop earlier, I got worried you’d decided to kill your little brother. Thought I’d take off early and see if you needed help burying a body.”
Are you serious? Malik and Brenn? I really don’t know my brother at all anymore.
Malik smiles, but there’s no amusement in it. “No, there really is some major stuff going on. I need to take these three to the spaceport with me to try to figure this out. We might need to be ready to go in a hurry, though, so can you pack some stuff and swing by my neighbor’s house to pick up the dog?”
He has a dog? Malik, despiser of farm chores, has a dog?
“Sure,” she says. “Stay in touch. We’ll keep an eye on things here. The folks back at the shop have the repairs well in hand, should be no trouble having the Kick ready for whatever comes next.”
Asra, Case, and I take turns getting changed into the security uniforms, then pile into the small kitchen to make last-minute adjustments and apply facechanger projectors while Malik and Brenn work together to finish off the meal Malik had started. Rion stands close at my side to work on my facechanger, sticking the tiny projectors along my jawline with a feather-light touch. Brenn and Malik pass hot pans and Tupperware back and forth like a well-oiled machine until four servings are packed an
d ready to go.
“We’ll eat on the way. You spill anything in my car, I turn you in to the cops,” Malik says.
Aaand there’s the old Malik. At least all that’s familiar isn’t gone.
Rion squeezes my forearm. “Be careful.”
“We will.”
And I take a little risk. Not much of one. I let his hand slide down my arm so I can catch it in mine and squeeze back. His fingers twine around mine for a moment, then let go.
This is so not the time. Really.
Case’s eyes are on me the whole way out the door.
Sixteen
A CHEERILY GLOWING SIGN WELCOMES us to Valen Central Air and Space Port, a bright beacon for travelers and semicriminals alike. People of every kind flood in and out of the enormous glass-fronted building, cutting one another off with wheelie bags and slamming into their neighbors with overstuffed duffels. We weave into the crowd and allow ourselves to be herded inside, chins up and expressions blank and professional, trying our best to look like this is just another night of work for us.
The majority of the crowd shuffles into orderly queues for ticketing and security, or presses into anxious clumps in front of the arrivals zone, chattering in a blurry cacophony of languages. Malik breaks off to the left, cutting around the entire crowd. He spares us only the briefest look over his shoulder to ensure all three of us are still with him, then leads us off to a staff entrance door at the end of the long ticketing counters.
The port looks completely different behind the scenes. Outside, everything is shiny, brightly painted and lit, warm and inviting, so maybe you won’t give the employees hell when your flight gets delayed and you’re stuck there all night. The hallway behind the security door is all hollow metal bones and wired veins, loud orange safety paint and caustic lighting. Malik leads us around a corner, past a violently yellow fire-suppressant system console, and down several long hallways with shouting red signage:
CAUTION! MUNITIONS DELIVERY ZONE
GCC PERSONNEL GATE
VALEN IMPORT AUTHORITY
We turn a corner and find ourselves face-to-face with a pack of chattering flight attendants pulling overnight bags. I scoot closer to the wall and keep my eyes fixed on the back of Malik’s head, internally begging them not to look too closely at us. My steps falter a bit, but the group passes us by and turns the corner without the slightest break in their conversation. Close.
The next hallway is marked with a solid black stripe down both walls, with SECURITY WING painted in bold block letters within. Malik scans his work tab once at the entrance to the hallway, which has no visible effect, then again at a door marked DANIEL AKIYAMA, HEAD OF SECURITY. A freshly printed sign hangs on the outside of the door, crooked and hastily stuck up with tape.
THE HEAD OF SECURITY IS CURRENTLY OUT OF THE OFFICE ON VACATION AND WILL RETURN ON 30|08|2194. PLEASE DIRECT ALL QUESTIONS AND REQUESTS FOR SERVER ROOM ACCESS TO SARAH DZUBENKO, DEPUTY CHIEF OF SECURITY, IN ROOM 207.
Malik sniffs and clenches his jaw, then motions for Asra to step up to the door. Case and I hang back, hands on our holstered chem guns, keeping eyes on both ends of the hallway while Asra runs her custom lock-popper app. It feels weird to not have Zee and Rion here watching our backs, but part of me is glad to know that at least two of our group are safe, will have a chance to get away if this goes badly.
A faint click signals Asra’s success, and we pile into the office and lock the door behind us. Asra immediately sets to work on the door at the back of the office labeled SERVER ROOM, while Malik hits a control on the wall, illuminating an enormous collection of screens covering one entire side of the room. Security camera monitoring. Some of the cameras seem to be motion triggered, following travelers and employees as they walk, while others cycle through several different angles on the same room. Another click, and by the time I turn around Asra has already disappeared into the server room. I catch the door before it closes behind her and watch her hardwire into a terminal for a faster connection.
“The new servers are probably masked, but still on the network. It’ll take me a bit to locate them and get to digging, but unless you have a better idea, I’m going to focus my search on anything that looks like shipping records,” she says, tapping away at her tablet, then turning to the main console display. “I figure if they shipped some kind of device here, it probably happened within a few days of the attack on the station. This could take a while.”
“Do what you need to do. We’ll watch your back,” I say, then leave her to focus. Out in the main office, I catch the tail end of a conversation between Malik and someone on his tab. He swipes the screen off and turns to me.
“Brenn said her people have finished their final inspection. They’re doing a last bit of tuning on the engines, but she’s basically good to go.”
“Perfect,” Case says. “Text her thanks for us.”
“Yeah,” I agree, then shake my head. “What are you doing with a girl who deals in illegal tech and strips stolen ships, anyway? You judge me for my issues, but she’s somehow fine?”
This isn’t the best time to start another fight, but this issue is like a loose tooth—an ever-present irritation, and painful yet weirdly satisfying when you poke at it.
Malik shoots me a glare, obviously unimpressed with both the question and the timing. He turns back to the bank of camera feeds and darts his eyes from screen to screen, following the motion.
“A big portion of her business comes from refugees fleeing failed terraforms and unofficial colonies. The Valen government doesn’t want to admit them, so we have an arrangement. I do deals with air traffic control so they skip over her part of the sky, and she does affordable or at-cost work on the arriving ships so they can disappear.”
Should have known there’d be some noble reason behind it. Ugh.
“Hey, Nax?” Asra calls. “Think I found something.”
We all shuffle into the sweltering little room, stepping over coiled cables and squeezing in between stacks of warm, humming computers. Asra flicks a message from the main console to her tab, then projects it for us all to see. It’s a shipping manifest, and a vague one at that. The logo of the GCC takes over the top center of the page. Under Items Shipped, there’s only one thing listed: “receiver, qty 2, weight 27.2 kg, ID Num 428.” The head of Valen spaceport security is listed as the recipient, and the sender was . . .
The package came from Ellis Station. Shipped on 11|8|2194, the day after the attack, after all travel and shipping in and out of Ellis Station had been banned.
“This has to be it,” Case whispers. “The weapon, or whatever it is they’re planning to use against the colonies. Are there any others like it, or is this the only one?”
“I did a search for other shipments coming from the station and got nothing on either the new private servers or the main ones. I think this is it.”
“Do they list a storage location, or has it already been taken off-site?” Malik asks, bracing a hand on the back of Asra’s chair to peer at the screen.
“There’s a shelf location, but no warehouse designation. Why bother giving us the specifics if it could be in literally any storage closet in this whole port?”
“Not any,” Malik says, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “There’s an SPZ warehouse near the GCC personnel gate. I’d bet anything that’s where it’s at.”
At my blank look, he elaborates. “Special patrol zones are blocked from regular employee access. Only certain security personnel are allowed in, and only to patrol for five minutes at a time. I was just in there doing rounds earlier today. It’s the only active SPZ we have right now. If there’s something they don’t want messed with, that’s where it’ll be.”
“That’s our target, then,” Case says. “Time to get a look at this mystery device.”
Asra cuts the projector and returns to her furious tapping. “I need to stay here and dig deeper. They might have more hidden partitions or something with more information about their pl
ans. If the device doesn’t give us any ideas on how to stop all this, we’ll need a plan B.”
“One of us will have to stay here with you, then,” Malik says, but Asra shakes her head without looking up.
“I’ll be fine here. I’ll lock the door, jam the code, and keep my gun out. You’ll need all of you to locate the device as fast as possible. Honestly, I’ll probably be safer here than you’ll be out there. I might even be able to loop some cameras for you.”
I shift my weight from foot to foot, a hand over my mouth. I don’t like this. If she gets into trouble, she’ll be totally alone.
“This is my choice, Nax,” Asra says, pausing in her efforts to look me in the eye. “I’m choosing this. You do what you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do. You won’t be gone long. Don’t worry about me.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay.” Then: “Be careful.” Because it had to be said. I wave a hand at the door and meet Malik’s curious gaze.
“Lead the way.”
He purses his lips for a moment, but does as I ask all the same. I bring my hand to rest between Case’s shoulder blades, just a brief touch. “I’m here,” it says. “We’ve got this.” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, quirks a tiny smile, then refocuses forward.
Time for business.
Malik has always been one of those people who could easily look like he belonged anywhere, but here, in this place, he looks like the master of his domain. He leads Case and me confidently through the hallways, shoulders back, spine straight, a steady stream of work-related training speeches flowing whenever someone happens to pass near us. It’s how I feel when I’m in the pilot’s seat . . . so long as no one is in the ship with me.
My tablet vibrates in my hand, and I glance down at the lit screen.
managed to loop the cameras in the warehouse. can’t guarantee re: other security
I pass my tab to Malik and Case without comment, then accept it back after they’re done reading. That’s one point in our favor. Hopefully Malik can account for the others.
The Disasters Page 19
