The small and professional smile returned to Shera’s face. “Since you’ve passed the tests on our introduction vids, I know you understand that our goal is to ensure that you don’t have to spend any more time here than necessary, and that this will be your only stay in ITA facilities. So we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, aren’t we?”
Iridian shrugged. “The only person I want to see right now is my wife. When can somebody set that up?”
“Adda Karpe is very unwell, isn’t she?” Shera asked.
That was a hell of a way to describe recovering from brain damage and AI influence. “Yeah,” Iridian said. “I want to know how she’s doing.” And see her face, and hear her voice, and if Iridian were lucky, make her smile . . . She sighed. She’d been on missions without Adda before, but she’d always known when they’d meet up again. Now that she didn’t know, Adda was all she thought about.
Shera frowned quickly and deeply, like she’d been stopping herself from making that face ever since Iridian started talking. “Ordinarily, connecting you with your family would be wonderful motivation to meet your release criteria. In your and Adda’s case, though . . . I’m going to ask you a question, and I’m going to preface it with the reminder that our observer is very good at identifying aggressive motion. You will not be permitted to continue any such motion.”
“I’ll curl up and scream on the floor instead, got it.” With Iridian’s luck, the observer was an AI that’d flatten her no matter how she reacted.
“Do you feel that your relationship with Adda has had a positive influence on your interaction with society?”
Iridian had been right about the question’s effect. She shut her eyes and held herself still until she thought she could move slowly and calmly enough not to get hit with the nannites again. “Thank you for thinking carefully about your response,” said Shera.
Through clenched teeth, Iridian said, “Adda’s has a positive influence on everything about me.”
When she opened her eyes, the therapist was still frowning. “Hmm.”
Between the nannite culture in every prisoner’s body and the long list of privileges that improved their stay in the silent, bare, internet-restricted cells, Sorenson ITAS was breaking people’s minds to fix them. And now Shera thought she could change Iridian’s opinion about Adda. The ITA had whole lifetimes to work on people who still had release criteria to meet. The prospect of staying here long enough for them to change how Iridian felt about her wife made her sick.
* * *
Now that Iridian knew the extent of the mind games the ITA was playing, she was watching for them in the cafeteria during lunch. The furniture and the machine that dispensed the food packets weren’t bolted down to handle grav adjustments, they were bolted down to keep people from moving them. She could do absolutely no damage with the off-white packet the meal came in, unless she stuffed it down somebody’s throat. The top was folded over and stiff, and too wide for most people’s mouths. The stuff inside tasted like fish stew with an aftertaste of powdered ass.
Tash was at another table, hanging off a person of indiscriminate gender who was very much not Wiley. Wiley followed Iridian’s gaze and shrugged. “She does that. She’ll be back.”
“Did your counselors ever try to break the two of you up?” Iridian was still angry about Shera asking whether Adda was good for Iridian, as if that was anybody else’s decision to make.
“Oh yeah,” said Wiley. “I took some heat for . . . an event that happened near Tash. It could’ve gotten her shipped off to the asteroid belt, if she’d been involved. Which she wasn’t. It set my release progress back, and right after that they started in on our relationship.” Wiley’s gaze went distant. “They had me thinking about it for a while. I actually sat Tash down to break it off, but she snapped me out of it. If you read into the recovery program, it’s big on ‘removing temptation to reoffend.’ That includes people they think are bad for you.”
Iridian scowled at her packaged meal. “That’s fucked up. Of them, not you.” Adda was her second set of eyes, her calm when everything else came apart, her reason when nothing else made sense. The ITA couldn’t make Iridian question that. But they’d almost talked Wiley into breaking up with his girlfriend, and he looked happy to be with her now. The ITA definitely thought they could change Iridian’s mind.
She bit the inside of her cheek to ground herself. This was why she had to believe she could leave this place on her own terms. She wouldn’t give them the chance to do that to her and Adda.
Wiley frowned at his own meal packet. “Remember that time the secessionists hit the mess and logistics outside Chien-Shiung Wu Station on Mars and we had to go begging from the locals?”
The abrupt shift from her personal war with the ITA to her and Wiley’s shared war against the secessionists suggested that Iridian had been scowling at her lunch for longer than she’d thought. “Oh gods, I’d forgotten what fresh food tasted like. I was choking on the replacement rations for weeks after that.”
“The good old days.” Wiley snorted a laugh. “I never would’ve believed it.” They knew when their next meal would be and the atmo was clean, but meeting Adda had raised Iridian’s standards for good living. Perfect enviro was boring without Adda there to share it.
If Adda were here with her, planning a jailbreak, the first thing she’d say was that the AI running this hab was watching for a breakout. Iridian didn’t care about that, since she couldn’t do anything to affect it. Then Adda would list all her available resources and options.
Although Iridian had no equipment or supplies, she did have allies. Some of Wiley’s skills mirrored her own. He’d never been as interested as she was in how the ISVs worked, so he would’ve done something other than engineering school and piracy after the war. When Rio and Noor sat down with their personalized fish-ass stew, Iridian said, “So everybody knows what I’ve been up to. What about you all?”
“In case you were wondering, everything here’s recorded.” Rio shrugged. “I’m still with the ZVs. They’ll take me back when I meet my release criteria.”
Iridian wanted to ask why the ZVs hadn’t broken Rio out yet, but that question would sound suspicious on a recording. Besides, the ZV Group upheld NEU laws unless they had a good reason not to. There were few benefits and a lot of drawbacks to taking somebody out of an ITA prison without an ITA order to do it.
“You’re lucky,” said Wiley. “Nobody’s waiting for me to reform. Sentence I got was one trouble too many for Martian government work.”
Iridian raised an eyebrow at him. “What were you doing for the Martian government?”
“Construction.” It sounded about as interesting as changing oil or checking reading bots’ work, the way Wiley said it. “Building bridges and tearing down walls.”
Judging by Rio’s and Noor’s coordinated eye roll, the line about bridges and walls was another catchphrase from “therapy.” It was more like brainwashing. She and the other prisoners were disconnected from the rest of humanity, bombarded with “correct” messages, and expected to conform. And the alternative was a lot of pain.
“But the construction work meant something to people,” Wiley continued. “People remembered how their ’ject used to be before the war. Helping the bots put it back was putting Mars back together. Boring job, but it meant something.”
“Just like army life,” said Iridian. “You must’ve felt right at home.”
“It was Mars. I was at home.” He glanced around, maybe missing windows like Iridian did.
She turned to Noor, who was watching her over a tablet that looked almost as old as she was. Before she could ask about his skill set, he said, “Why do you want to know?”
“She’s just making conversation,” said Wiley.
“Is she?” Noor’s question was more contemplative than accusatory. He studied her for a moment more. “Information security.” Wiley chuckled. That sounded like digital theft, which often involved manipulating physical secur
ity systems. Skills like that would be useful in an escape and lucrative afterward.
“And I can mix drinks on eight different ’jects when the AI breaks down,” said Tash, “and look better doing it.” Iridian hadn’t noticed her approach, but she couldn’t help noticing when Tash draped herself over Wiley’s shoulders and grinned. The tattoo on the forearm ten centimeters from Iridian’s face read Fabulous in black calligraphy that stood out on Tash’s pale skin. More tattoos, mostly text in languages Iridian couldn’t read, encircled Tash’s upper arms and her other forearm, and hid among pink and white stars lit with LEDs that gleamed where they emerged from the skin of her chest.
Her effect on people who got off on her level of body modification would be a more useful skill, in terms of getting out of this hab. “So, one more question,” Iridian said. “If I wanted to have a private conversation, is there any way to do that?”
Everyone at the table stiffened slightly. “Nope,” said Rio, but she met Iridian’s eyes and tilted her head up and down fractionally. There was a place that wasn’t micced, but not one Rio would name aloud.
* * *
After the post-lunch blackout, Iridian was back to testing and talking to ITA people for hours. The next time she saw the group she was beginning to think of as her crew was a recreational period in a gym designed for the healthy grav. Although the sunsim was comfortable, the walls were decorated only with a projected list of gym rules.
According to the staff, windows were an earned privilege. The gym was too small for a track, but a row of treadmills lined one wall and somebody was running on one. The runner met Iridian’s envious gaze and made a rude gesture. Moving faster than a walk must’ve been an earned privilege too.
“What, we don’t get to go outside?” Iridian asked Wiley. He was spotting Rio at a weight bench. The readout on the frame attached to the bench reported that Rio was pressing 332 kilos of metal with perfect form. Even with her visible strain, the sight gave Iridian mild vertigo. When somebody moved that much weight without a suit, they were usually doing it in low grav. At first glance Rio carried a lot of fat. Underneath was a remarkable amount of muscle.
Wiley was looking at Iridian with a similar level of incredulity, but when she smiled at him, he relaxed at the realization that she was joking about exercising outdoors. “Pretty sure acid rain and wind strong enough to blow this whole hab around aren’t on the privileges list.”
Noor appeared with a two-kilogram dumbbell and spent a couple of seconds positioning it on the weight rack beside its mate. “Ah . . . ha!” Rio said, one syllable per repetition, with her head tilted back to watch.
“The only mic I’ve found in this area is now flattened against that rack,” Noor murmured. Iridian fought the instinct to lean in to hear him over Rio’s breathing and the background buzz of other prisoners’ workout conversations. “The next closest mics are two meters on either side of us, so keep it down. Now.” Noor turned to face Iridian. “Did you come here to break somebody out, or are you leaving by yourself?” Iridian gaped at him while Rio and Wiley switched places and Rio took some weight plates off the bar. Noor smiled thinly. “You don’t hide your intentions well, and you’re recently of Sloane’s crew. How else would Captain Sloane get somebody out of here? So my question is, who would Sloane be that interested in?”
Iridian frowned. “The captain was willing to let my wife die to deal with political fallout. I don’t care what the hell Captain Sloane’s interested in. I just want to leave, and I think you can help.”
“Help with what?” Tash whispered behind Iridian, making Iridian spin around and raise her hands in a pointless, shieldless block. Tash grinned while Iridian looked between Rio and Wiley to see if either of them would trust Tash with their topic of conversation.
Rio shrugged, and Wiley nodded at her. Noor just watched, so Iridian said, “I’m talking about getting the fuck out of here. You in?”
Tash laughed delightedly. “You just got here!” She grasped Wiley’s weight bar and leaned on it. The ribbon that laced through the rings on her stomach dangled from the bottom of her shirt. Wiley gave one strenuous heave with her added weight, which also made her laugh, then paused at the low point of his rep to accommodate her. “But yeah, why not? I’m not making any money here, and it’s so boring that I keep ‘backtracking’ on my release criteria. So, sure. On one condition.”
“Yeah?” said Iridian.
“Tell Captain Sloane all about me.”
Rio snorted. “Sloane’s got all the bartenders a captain could want, Tash.”
“Who knew the ITA micromanaged the habs so thoroughly that they’d send people here for mixing bad drinks?” Noor asked. He watched Tash coolly.
“Like I keep saying, some of them were very bad drinks.” Tash leaned over Wiley as if inviting Noor to count the stars on her chest. Wiley grinned up at her. He had the better view.
Rio casually turned her head to take in their surroundings. Everyone else was keeping their distance. An ERT guard ambled past, black faceplate staring at them, and Rio and Wiley switched places on the bench again. “I’m . . . in,” Rio said after the guard was out of range, still in time to her reps. “I owe . . . you and Adda . . . a big one.”
Noor and Wiley both gave Rio surprised looks. Wiley recovered first. He offered Iridian a shallow bow. “It’ll be good to work with you again,” Wiley said to her.
“That would be amazing, but you’ve got to be close to getting out of here the right way,” Iridian said.
Wiley scowled. “I’ve got two criteria left to prove and four more to maintain, but everybody knows my position on secessionists hasn’t changed. And a couple months ago, I set myself back hard.” He and Tash shifted, probably to put something between them and cams, eyes locked and hands reaching for each other. It was abruptly too intimate for Iridian to watch. Did she and Adda look like that when they were together?
She turned to Noor, who was watching the other exercisers thoughtfully. “Can you imagine what it’s like, watching your personalized ITA ‘reintegration’ program turn you into somebody you don’t recognize anymore?” Noor asked. “I’ve seen it happen.” He looked like he might say something else but swallowed visibly instead. “I’m not interested in letting them tie my brain into any more knots than it’s already in.” He turned to Iridian. “Do you have a plan?”
For a second, Iridian thought the ERT people had activated her nannite culture again, but it was just a sudden, physical ache of not having Adda here. She’d make three plans that’d definitely work and a few more that might work even when everything else went to shit. After taking a moment to catch her breath and locate the ERT people, Iridian said, “Do any of these emergency response people have dirt we could use to, say, replace one with a ZV?”
Rio, Wiley, and Noor all shook their heads. Tash, however, smiled wider. “Oh yeah, I know exactly the one you want. You won’t even need to replace him.”
Iridian knew next to nothing about Tash, but trusting her looked like Iridian’s best option. This was coming together better than she’d expected, and without all the sitting in a corner and pondering that Adda loved and Iridian tolerated. “Okay. Okay!”
If Tash had a comms line to the outside, or if Iridian convinced her therapist that she’d be talking to somebody “motivational,” then Iridian would find a way to contact Rio’s merc outfit, the ZV Group. They had the personnel and expertise to break her out. More importantly, they owed her and Adda for getting off Barbary Station alive. That made them the only private military company she’d be able to afford. Even if they gave her a break on the price, they’d cost everything she and Adda had saved. Once she was out, nothing would stop her from freeing Adda.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” Iridian said, “and I’ll send the message to a relative who will help.” Not that Iridian’s blood relatives wanted anything to do with her at the moment, except for her uncle in the Kuiper colonies. The counselor, Shera, might even give Iridian progress points for as
king to talk to family other than Adda. Unfortunately, the only person she could count on to get her plan moving was her fuckup brother-in-law, Pel.
CHAPTER 5 Days until launch: 65
A couple of weeks ago, the influence rehab clinic doctors celebrated Adda’s graduation from influence stage two to stage one by moving her into a dorm-style room with one roommate. If the staff decided that she wasn’t influenced at all, they’d send her to jail to await her trial, so she maintained her nonverbal pretense and kept asking for comms technology that they’d never give her access to, like she still felt compelled to talk to Casey.
Now Adda sat on her bed, ignoring her whispering roommate and mentally composing a message to Pel. The doctors had promised that they’d allow her to send one after she completed some journaling exercises. They were asking her to describe changes she’d experienced in herself since entering the facility. The prompt wording suggested they expected her to write something positive. Her cognitive functions had improved, but she’d also lost weight on the bland food they’d been giving her. Iridian loved her thick thighs and heavy breasts, and those were the parts that’d shrunk the most. Adda felt like she was dissolving in this place.
She’d finish the assignment faster if she didn’t think about the content. The last message she’d gotten from Pel noted that Iridian’s trial was over, and she’d been moved from the Ceres jail to a prison over Venus. If it was on all the newsfeeds, then Casey knew where Iridian was. Adda had no idea how it would react to that. If it wanted to, it could take control of the prison’s facility management intelligence.
Before that happened, or Casey got some other dangerous idea, Adda wanted to get herself, Iridian, and Pel inside Jupiter’s signal-confounding magnetosphere. Since AegiSKADA hadn’t responded to her attempts to get its attention, she’d just have to ask Pel to get her the help she needed, in a way he’d understand and her therapists wouldn’t. After years of using digital encryption to keep her conversations private, this was the first time she’d attempted a verbal equivalent.
Gravity of a Distant Sun Page 6
