The rules would bend, just enough, for her to get hooked by them. Shit, she hadn’t even heard of a Keeper being assaulted in her lifetime. She had no basis of comparison for what they’d do to her. Would they kill her outright? Lock her in a box for the rest of her life? Or something else, some horror she couldn’t even dream up in her worst wraith hazes?
“Jules protected herself,” Nox said, daring Arden to say what they all knew—that it didn’t matter why she’d killed the Keeper, just that she had.
“Silverfang didn’t know about the lab,” Jules explained. “She was so desperate for that info… And I didn’t know who she was. If she’d told me she was a Keeper, I might have just told her about the lab. Fuck. She was almost as clueless as we are.”
“We’ve got to bug out,” Nox said. “We got to disappear, now.”
“I can pull false idents for us,” Arden said, voice shaking as they prodded at their wristpad. “Get us through any casual checkpoints until we’re on the real outskirts but—but where will we go?”
Nox eyed the dash of the autocab—not here, his glance said—and they all went silent as death as understanding struck home. Once the guardcore had identified Jules as the killer, they’d trace her steps, find this autocab, and listen to every word they’d said inside. Including everything that’d come before—talk of the lab, of Silverfang.
Jules wanted to be a fly on that wall when the members of the guardcore who weren’t in on the stealth-ops side project heard what they’d said. Or maybe they were all in on it. She just didn’t know. And chances were good now she’d never know. They had to disappear, and fast, and to hell with the lab and all its entanglements. They’d come back for Lolla. When it was safe.
CHAPTER 54
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
DAY FORTY OF TOO MANY
She sucked air through her teeth and hunched over, gripping the sides of her head with both hands and squeezing, squeezing. Tomas dropped to a knee beside her, flung the tablet onto the bed and turned her around, away from the mirror.
“I’m sorry,” he was saying through the buzzing in her head. “It was the only way to be sure.”
“Sure of what?” The pain ebbed, a subtle slowing of agony. Vision came back, bright motes burning out behind her eyelids until she could see Tomas clearly again, and she wondered just how long he’d been saying her name.
“Sanda?”
“I hear you.”
“You faded away there, for a moment.”
“My head…” And the chip, she almost said, but the mere thought brought agony sneaking up on her again.
“That’s what I feared. Bero must have realized what the captain was up to and tried to make his own changes, make you uncomfortable whenever you dwelled on things he didn’t want you to. Did you read the research into the Kenwick experiments?”
“I glanced at it, but I didn’t want to know. Too morbid.”
“Listen to yourself, Sanda. Too morbid? That’s not you. Not the way I know you.”
“I didn’t see the point. Figured I’d have ages to sort through it all, it wasn’t exactly a priority.”
“Icarion research on Keeper chip tech wasn’t a priority to you?”
Damn. He was right. She’d always been a curious woman, and Keeper tech was a mystery even to Prime citizens. She might have felt a little guilty at first, digging around in those files, but nothing like the deep revulsion she felt at the thought.
“That bastard spaceship.”
Tomas pressed his forehead against hers. It helped. A little. “It gets worse. That chip wasn’t assigned to you via Keeper protocol. You don’t have the training to manage it. Or the clearance.”
“They’ll take it out.”
“And have you ever heard of a Keeper that survived extraction?”
No. She hadn’t. No one had, and generally speaking, no one cared. If a Keeper performed poorly enough to warrant extraction, they were considered a failure as a Prime and whispered about as a traitor. An accidental implant had never been allowed for. It was impossible, by most standards. No one got near the chips that didn’t have the proper clearance. Malicious insertion may have been considered, in the deeper protocol of the Keepers, but if it had, she doubted the subject would fare any better than those who had their chips extracted for poor performance.
A stolen chip in an untrained head? Unthinkable. They wouldn’t be able to calculate the various ways in which she was a walking security breach. They’d argue about it for a while, maybe even go to trial, but she knew the end result would be the same, no matter the wait. She was a dead woman.
Someone knocked on the door. “Everything all right in there?” Biran said. “It’s been an hour.”
“Yeah.” Sanda rearranged her hair to cover the scar. “Come in.”
Tomas backed away from her, took up his seat on the edge of the bed and shoved the tablet back into his pocket. Biran strode into the room, glancing around like he expected a murder scene.
“Well?” he asked.
“Bero was a bigger jerk to me than I thought. I’m still thinking it through.”
Biran opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and snapped it closed. It may have been a couple years, but he had to remember that pushing her when she wasn’t ready to talk about something was a straight line to a full-blown fight that got them nowhere.
“Understood,” he said in the voice he probably used when assimilating information from a subordinate. It irked her, but hey, if he gave her room for her coping mechanisms, she could give him room for his, too. “But I have to ask you some questions about that ship. Bero, was it?”
“The Light of Berossus, officially, but he preferred to be called Bero.”
“It really did have an on-board emergent AI, then?”
“Yes, and he was aware of his unique position. His ship body is also the housing for the Fibon Protocol.”
Biran closed his eyes and grimaced. “Do you know where they’re taking the ship?”
“Taking?” Her laugh was rough. “Honestly, brother, I don’t even know where to begin. Bero has no crew. He jettisoned them shortly after the bombardment and… waited to awaken me for when he needed human hands to help repair him. He only woke me up forty days ago.”
“You were in coldsleep for two years?” He took a knee beside her and reached up to pull her eyelids up, staring into her pupils. “We need to get you checked out. This is a Keeper vessel, we have miniMRIs on board and—”
She swatted him away. “Calm down, Little B, I’m fine. Aside from having half a leg and a new mouth in the side of my face, anyway. Heart’s been steady and I haven’t been suffering any ill effects.”
The lie tasted bitter on her lips, but it needed to be done. Biran would never turn her in, and that was the problem. If he was ever found out for helping her, his career would be over, and a Keeper’s career was pretty tightly tied to their life. He’d been through enough at her expense. She didn’t need to add having his chip yanked to the list, too. She gripped both his hands in hers and squeezed.
“See? Warm, no tremors. Still haven’t had a nosebleed since I was ten.”
“You got that because you picked your nose.”
Tomas coughed, struggling to hide a laugh.
“I did not.”
“Fine, have it your way, but you have any hint of a headache, you let me know, promise?”
“Promise,” she said, feeling like the biggest piece of shit in the universe.
“You’re sure about this information? That the Protocol has gone rogue, and Icarion has lost all control?”
“Yes. Negassi was pushing for destruction and not meeting a lot of resistance.”
Biran frowned. “Strange. The Icarions are precious when it comes to military expenditure. The Protocol must have been a significant percentage of their budget. They must be running scared from this ship.”
“No doubt that factors in,” Tomas said, “but when I was on board Empedocles, I gathered informa
tion that I think is closer to the truth.”
Sanda smiled. “That wasn’t part of your mission, Nazca.”
He shrugged, facing his palms toward the ceiling. “Old habits. And there’s no telling what piece of intel may be useful in the future. I believe they’re willing to blow Bero out of the sky, and are in fact moving into position to do so as we speak, because they have another Protocol under construction.”
Sanda said, “That fits with Negassi’s orders for Dr. Yu to focus on her current project.”
“Dr. Yu?” Biran asked.
“The woman who managed Bero’s early personality development. Also, the woman who blew the hole in the transfer tube.”
“That does not bode well.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Sanda slumped back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, thumping the back of her head against the chair once—then thought better of that and stopped. “Any idea where the new Protocol is being housed, Tomas?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t able to get that deep. Time was short.”
“And getting shorter. If they have another Protocol out there, then the Primes will have to abandon Ada and withdraw from this system. Okonkwo already attempted to force the evacuation of Ada once and only stopped because Lavaux and I… Never mind. What matters is the exodus was stopped, and we found you and Bero. But if there’s another weapon? I might agree with evacuation then.”
“Retreat?” Sanda sat straight up. “To hell with that. We leave this system, and Icarion will develop whatever they want unchecked. Bero was heading toward an inhabited system. There’s no telling what else they’ll develop and promptly lose control of. Those bastards can’t be trusted to piss straight, let alone futz around with relativistic speeds and emergent AI.”
Biran spread his hands. “If you’ve got a better idea, sis, I’d love to hear it. But right now we can’t risk our people while Icarion builds a better weapon.”
“There is someone out there who knows where the second Protocol is being developed, and will tell me.”
Biran frowned. “I doubt that, unless you’ve made close friends with the Icarion inner circles.”
Tomas caught on, stood, and said, “Don’t.”
Sanda shook her head. “I’d bet my life Bero knows where that weapon is. And he’d tell me if I went to him to ask.”
CHAPTER 55
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
DAY FORTY IS EXHAUSTING
Absolutely not,” Biran said. “That spaceship already got his hands on you once, I won’t let him do it again.”
“He doesn’t have hands.”
“You know what I mean. It’s insanity—suicide. What’s to stop that ship from warming up its engines and blasting out of the system with you on board?”
“Not a whole lot,” Sanda admitted, “but I’m willing to take the chance. And if Ada has something to offer him, he might just let me go.”
“I don’t like it,” Tomas said. She knew what he meant. Knew he was thinking about the tech buried in her skull, and its direct contact to her central nervous system. Bero had already messed around with her head—while she was in the NutriBath, sure—but they had no guarantee he couldn’t do it remotely, though she suspected he would have done so if he could. That ship couldn’t keep himself from tinkering.
“Not your decision,” she said.
“Not yours, either.” Biran pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I hope you can appreciate how much I don’t want to do this, but we’re all too close to solve this problem. Sanda, are you prepared to present your information before the Keeper Protectorate?”
She swallowed. “Are they on board?”
“A few. The rest can CamCast in at short notice. They were put on high alert today, and I suspect our window for action is closing by the second.”
“I’m ready.”
“I’m going to fight you every step of the way on this,” Biran said. “Sorry.”
She pushed to her foot, got her crutch situated, and smiled. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”
He surged to his feet and hugged her so tight he squeezed the air out of her, then took her elbow to help her walk. Under any other circumstance she would have found that patronizing in the extreme. But she was exhausted, and though it chafed her pride, she needed the help. Might as well take advantage while she could.
Biran left her in a meeting room, seated at the head of a long, grey table, Tomas to her right, and left to gather the Protectorate members. The second the door swished shut, Tomas side-eyed her.
“Please tell me you know this is a terrible idea.”
“If you’ve got a better one, I’m listening, but as far as I can see, Bero’s the only one who knows where that ship is being built who might talk to us. Maybe Yu would have, but unless you’ve got a time machine up your sleeve, I doubt we can ask her.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be the one to ask Bero.”
“Yes, it does. He won’t talk to anyone else. Not even you. Especially not you.”
“If you think I’m going to hang out here while you wing off to have a chat and tea with the insane spaceship that kidnapped you, you’ve lost your mind.”
“Protecting your investment?” she drawled. He went rigid.
“You know damned well that’s not what this is about.”
She gripped a stylus left behind on the table until the pocket clip dented her palm. “I know. But I had a life before that ship, and I’m not throwing away everything I worked so hard for because I’m scared, or because a negative outcome might hurt your feelings. Dios fuck, I went into the military because Biran showed Keeper capabilities early on, and I wanted to do my part to keep him safe. If he had to handle the smarts of our people, then I could handle the big guns. I wanted to protect my brother—my little brother—and now I’ve been gone so long, unable to help him.
“I already thought I’d outlived him once. I won’t risk feeling that I could have done something, and failed, again.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“Don’t you pull that macho bullshit with me—”
“Macho? Do you honestly think that’s what this is about? From the day your brother hired me I knew what I was getting into. I read your files. I knew the type. Daughter of merchants, a quick rise through the academy, a command post handed out like a trophy after a kid’s soccer game. You know how many recoveries I’ve pulled? It’s why the Nazca sent me—no, don’t you interrupt me now you stubborn, bull-headed woman.”
He dropped to his knees before her, cupping the back of her head in his free hand to make the subtext clear to her without the risk of being overheard. He knew what’d been done to her. Understood society wanted her dead by no fault of her own, and the tense curl of his fingers against her skin—against that damn scar—told her clear as anything they’d have to go through him to hurt her. He wasn’t Nazca. Not right now. Right now, he was just Tomas.
“I’ve pulled asses out of a half hundred fires and never, ever, in my years as a Nazca have I come across someone so—so—” He clenched air in both fists. “Brilliant and ridiculous and brave and beautiful. I thought for sure that finding out what they had done to you would break you. That you’d crumple—rightfully so—and the illusion would be broken. But you’re no illusion, Sanda. You’re the realest thing I’ve ever encountered and if you think I’m letting you do that brave but stupid throwing yourself in harm’s way thing without me then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Her mouth hung slack, her hands limp on the tabletop. She wanted to say something, anything, of value to him but all she could do was hold his smoldering gaze and wonder if she’d rather rip him a new one or throw him down on the table right now.
The door dilated and Tomas retreated to his chair, leaving her head spinning. Sanda bit back whatever words were forming, forcing herself to focus on the moment. No one spent any significant time in service without learning to nip a conversation short the second someone with rank st
uck their head into the room.
Biran led the charge of three Keepers decidedly his senior, and her heart swelled with pride as she realized just how hard he must have worked, and how much faith they had in him, to rise so far so fast. Her situation with Icarion no doubt lent him a political boost. Biran had always been a clever boy, he would have realized the benefit in leveraging his anger and his pain to advance quickly and, knowing him, put himself in a position to effect real change.
She’d thought he’d sit beside her, but he took the seat at the foot of the table, a position in opposition to her. He’d warned her, but it still stung.
“The Protectorate have been warned that time is short,” Biran said the moment they had all settled. “You may make your statement, Major Greeve, and then we will ask questions.”
Major Greeve? She raised her brows at him, but he kept his face perfectly neutral. It seemed they’d given her a posthumous promotion. She wondered if anyone regretted that now that she was decidedly humous.
“Thank you, Keeper.” She leaned forward and laced her fingers together on the tabletop, pausing a moment to be sure all the council were looking at her. If Biran could pretend to be formal while his heart ached, so could she. “While aboard Empedocles, Nazca Cepko and I overheard information that leads us to believe that another Protocol is not only being produced, but very close to being finished.”
She gave that a moment to sink in, watched a few of them shift uncomfortably.
“Okonkwo believes we should abandon this star system, leave it to the Icarions, and destroy the gate behind us. A dire solution, and one I know she has not proposed lightly. But I believe we can curb the second Protocol’s production before matters come to that, and that the loss would be great enough that, combined with sanctioning from Ada Prime, the Icarion economy would be brought to its knees and the war ended.
“The ship I was held captive on, The Light of Berossus, is the Protocol that initiated the bombardment against Ada. He is a fully functioning emergent AI, and Icarion has, I’m afraid, lost all control of him. I was the only human on that ship until I took Cepko on board. I will not waste your time with the details, but suffice it to say that the ship and I had grown close. He was emotionally damaged by the demands put upon him by Icarion, and may be sympathetic to our cause.
Velocity Weapon Page 37
