Firewall

by R. M. Olson

  There was dawning worry on the faces of the gathered mafia, but before they could react, Ysbel had ripped the top off a packet of her gel explosive and squeezed a cold spray of sharp, acrid-smelling liquid across the group of them.

  They froze.

  “I could,” she said, in a conversational tone, “blow you into a crater that would take out the shell of the ship. If I wanted to.” She paused for a long, long moment, watching the visible swallowing.

  “But,” she said at last, “I don’t believe I will at this moment.” She paused, and turned to the woman. “I think, perhaps, before you decide it’s a good idea to threaten guests, you should maybe look a little closer into their backgrounds. I’m a mass murderer. Perhaps you know that. And that was five and a half years ago. Five and a half years that I’ve been improving my explosives. So.” She paused again. “I think, perhaps, we should come to an agreement. You will agree to stay very, very far away from my family. You will tell all of your friends the same thing. And, because I’m feeling generous at the moment, I won’t blow you up.”

  There was a long exhalation from the gathered boyeviki.

  “Now,” she said, her voice almost friendly. “I would suggest you all go shower off, and that you make sure you wash well, and you make sure that all the waste water is vented outside the ship. Because it would be a pity if I were to accidentally bump the controller. It would cause a mess, and I don’t think Grigory is the kind of person who likes a mess on his ship. Am I correct?”

  There were a smattering of timid nods.

  “Good. Well then, off you go.” She waived a shooing hand at them.

  There was a moment of terrified stillness, and then, one by one, they slipped out the door.

  Beneath the fear in their eyes, she saw a hint of respect.

  She smiled to herself in satisfaction. Unless she missed her guess, Grigory’s ship would be running low on warm bathing water over the next hour or so.

  When they were all gone except the woman in the corner, Ysbel gave her a small smile.

  “I assume that is a sufficient demonstration? Because I can demonstrate further if you want me to.”

  The woman glanced involuntarily down at her soaked shirt and shook her head, in a shell-shocked sort of way.

  “Good,” said Ysbel. “Then I think I will go back to my work. And you can tell Grigory whatever you would like about my loyalties. Now. Off you go.”

  The woman glared at her, but she turned and followed the others out the door.

  Ysbel smiled grimly to herself.

  Perhaps she’d made enemies. But still, she’d always found that enemies who were very, very convinced that you could kill them without a second thought weren’t enemies she was particularly worried about.

  She drew in a long breath, and turned back to her work.

  Perhaps Tanya didn’t agree with what she was doing. But if it kept her and the children safe—well, perhaps that didn’t matter, in the end.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TAE STEPPED OUT the door to their quarters, looking around him quickly.

  The hallway was empty, but for some reason that didn’t stop the shiver that ran down his back.

  He tapped something into his com.

  He couldn’t spoof all the cameras on the ship without making them suspicious, but at the very least, he could make it so they’d have to track him with visuals. So he let himself show up on the cameras when he couldn’t avoid it, and kept his com untraceable, and made very, very certain that the way the blocker on his com was set, there was no way they could overhear anything he said.

  He tried to force his shoulders to relax as he walked down the hallway.

  It said something that it was easier to avoid being watched in prison than on this opulent ship. Then again, as between here and prison, the chance that he’d be murdered in a hallway was a lot higher here.

  Whatever Masha had told Grigory seemed to have worked. Most of the others had already been co-opted in to help—except for Tanya, who they clearly viewed as Ysbel’s child-care, and probably Jez, who mostly seemed to be intent on making enemies out of every single person on the ship—but to his surprise, he’d been left alone.

  It wasn’t going to last, he was almost certain. But in the mean time—in the mean time, he couldn’t handle sitting on his hands in the suite of rooms they’d been given for one moment longer.

  Grigory wasn’t telling them everything. Masha wasn’t telling them everything. And yes, he wasn’t some genius like Lev, and yes, the chances of him somehow figuring out what was going on by wandering around the ship were slim to none, but—well, at least he could tell himself he was doing something.

  The hallway he was walking down joined another that connected to the kitchens, and at the intersection he stood back for a moment, hesitant to be swept into the flood of humanity, servers hurrying back and forth, boyeviki coming and going, kitchen staff shouting down the hall for supplies. He took a deep breath and was on the point of turning around, when he frowned suddenly.

  There was something familiar about one of the servers. He was facing away from Tae, but it was something about the way he was walking, the shape of his silhouette.

  He couldn’t place it, but he’d swear he knew the man from somewhere.

  There shouldn’t be anyone on this ship he knew, other than the crew.

  He frowned and stepped into the hallway, trying to keep the man in sight.

  Whoever it was walked quickly, and Tae dodged around servers and boyeviki, and got sworn at least half a dozen times, before he saw the man disappear through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

  He glanced around quickly.

  No one was looking at him, at least not in particular.

  He pushed through the doors and stepped inside.

  Stepping through, he almost bumped directly into a server who was sweeping past with two large trays of expensive-looking drinks. She shot him a withering glare, and he flattened himself against the wall and looked around quickly, taking in his surroundings.

  This must be the kitchen behind the bar in the gambling hall. It was small and crowded, packed with servers coming and going, all dressed in the dark blue-black trimmed with gold that seemed to be the uniform here. It was clearly a busy time of day, and trays of drinks and food were being whisked past him at a speed that almost made his head spin. There was a low buzz of chatter, interspersed here and there with a raised voice, calling for an order, shouting at an underling.

  And then he heard a voice raised in anger, and glanced over, and almost forgot to breathe.

  The man he’d followed down the hallway, dressed in a server’s uniform and holding a full tray of drinks balanced on one hand, stood in front of an hard-eyed woman who appeared to be a supervisor. His face was turned away, his voice low and intense, but for just a moment he’d glanced over in Tae’s direction, and Tae was almost certain …

  Through some fluke, the noise of the kitchen faded for an instant, and in that moment, he heard the man’s voice.

  “No,” he said quietly.

  Tae felt suddenly dizzy.

  He knew that voice.

  “You can’t send him out there. You’ve seen those people. He’s just a kid.”

  “He’s going out, and he’s going right now,” the woman snapped. “They requested a young server.”

  “No. I’ll go.”

  “You know who this is. She won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  “And you’d send a kid into that? I’m going.” The man turned in frustration, and Tae glimpsed his face again. Despite the short beard and the unfamiliar clothing, the man’s pleasant features, his cultured air and tall, slender form, the good-humoured smile-lines around his eyes and mouth that were apparent even now, when he was scowling, were unmistakable.

  He hadn’t been dreaming it.

  It was Ivan.

  What the hell was Ivan doing here? Because Tae was pretty sure that the last time he’d seen the man, after they’d broken him ou
t of prison, he’d been climbing onto one of the ships Tae had resurrected, and, if Tae remembered correctly, planning to go find some old friends where he could lay low until the government wasn’t actively trying to recapture him anymore.

  Ivan swung around, headed out the door to the gambling hall, and Tae recognized the determined set to his shoulders.

  Damn.

  Whatever was about to happen, it was probably going to mean trouble.

  He took a deep breath and shoved his way as quickly as he could through surprised servers and angry supervisors, ignoring the shouted questions behind him, and burst out the door after Ivan.

  The room he’d stepped into practically dripped wealth, the sort of careless opulence that managed to convey that whoever stayed there had so many credits that they could drown in them, so many that the weight of that much wealth hung around them like gravity, and they didn’t care that the rest of the system knew about it. The gold gleamed from the walls and pillars like reflected sunlight, sharpening the contrast between the brilliant, elegant glow of the artificial lights, and the dark, whisper-soft carpet and walls, the smooth, expensive sheen of the stone of the tables. He blinked for a moment, too dazzled to see what he was looking for.

  And then he heard a voice raised sharply, and he turned instinctively towards it.

  “I asked for a young server. That kid I saw in the back. What are you, almost thirty? I won’t be insulted like this.” The voice was sharp and hard, and a moment later he saw the woman it belonged to. She was dressed in the rich style of every other person in this room, wide-legged trousers of some rich, embroidered material, soft, knee-high boots, a shirt the colour of ivory, and a small golden vest that accentuated the richness of the embroidery on the front of the shirt. Her face was hard, and she’d grabbed Ivan by the front of his uniform. Tae felt a momentary jolt of terror.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ivan, his voice mild, but with a note of steel under it. He still had the tray of drinks balanced in one hand. “I’m taking his place for this evening, and I’ll be happy to help you.”

  The woman snatched a drink off the table and dashed it into Ivan’s face, shoving him backwards. There was a crash as the tray dropped to the ground, and then Ivan was grabbed from behind by two people who must have been bodyguards. His face was grim, and there was that familiar set to his jaw that Tae recognized from prison.

  Damn it to hell.

  Tae snatched a glass off the tray of a passing server and sprinted across the room. He reached them as one of the bodyguards planted a heavy fist in the centre of Ivan’s stomach. Ivan doubled over, gasping for breath, and Tae flung the contents of the drink in the face of one of the guards and smashed the empty glass across the bridge of the other’s nose. Then he shoved the sputtering first guard backward, wrenched Ivan’s arm from his grasp, and pushed him out of the way.

  Ivan stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

  “Come on!” Tae grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward, and Ivan blinked, and started after him at a run.

  “Where are we going?” Ivan hissed as they ran.

  “I have no plaguing idea!”

  The eye-watering calefaction of a heat-gun blast distorted the air over their heads, and Tae pulled Ivan down into a half-crouch.

  “Alright. Out into the hallway and turn left,” Ivan panted as they shoved through the doors, shouts and running footsteps following them.

  Tae didn’t bother to question, just ran, and a moment later, Ivan dragged him down a small side corridor and shoved him into what appeared to be a supplies closet. He pulled the door shut behind them, and for a moment they sat there in the dark, breathing heavily.

  Running footsteps passed in the outer corridor, and they could hear the sound of muffled shouting and swearing through the thick door.

  When the last of the clamour had finally passed, Ivan hit his com light, and in its dim blue glow, he stared at Tae.

  He had a short-cropped beard now, and his black hair, tousled from their mad escape, fell in dark curls across his forehead now that it wasn’t cut prison-short. But he had the same warm, sensitive face, the same cultured look as he’d had when Tae had known him, and even in the dim light the good humour in his mouth and eyes was easily visible. But where in prison he’d had an air of weariness and hopelessness, now his dark eyes twinkled with repressed amusement, and a smile danced around the edges of his mouth, no matter how grim he was clearly trying to look. And Tae found he was smiling in relief at the sight of him.

  “Tae?” asked Ivan after a moment. The disbelief in his voice, combined with the strain of the last few minutes, was enough to make Tae have to bite back a laugh. “What—I’m sorry, but what in the actual hell are you doing here?”

  Tae drew in a deep breath, still fighting the irrational urge to laugh, and shook his head. “I was about to ask you the exact same thing.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment, and at last Ivan blew out a breath and shook his head. “Since you just saved me from probably getting a heat-blast in the gut, I guess I owe you one.” He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’m here because—well, after you and your friends broke me out of prison, I went back to some cousins of mine to lie low for a while. But—” He let out a quick, frustrated breath. “I told you my family’s been in government forever. My sister has a position as an under-minister. And they told me Grigory’s people have been trying to meet with her for months now. She hasn’t agreed, but then a few weeks back, they stopped. Everything stopped.” He shook his head tightly. “I’m worried about her. I think something’s going to happen. She’s been hearing rumours about something big going down in the mafia, and—” He shrugged, with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I suppose I thought maybe I could find out something, maybe keep her safe. Grigory’s ship stays in ungoverned space. Perfect place for a former convict to apply for work. I hired on as a server two weeks ago, and I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  Tae was still staring at him. “I—I thought you’d—I don’t know, try to stay alive for a few months at least?”

  Ivan gave a slightly-rueful laugh. “If you recall, I was thrown in prison in the first place for protesting against the government. I—suppose I was never really the smart type.” He frowned suddenly. “But why in the system are you here? Did the mafia capture you? What’s going on?”

  Tae shook his head and sighed. “It’s—a long story.”

  Ivan gave a low laugh. “Honestly, Tae, with what I know about you and your friends, I’d be shocked if it wasn’t.” He glanced around quickly. “I want to hear all of it, but we’ll probably need to move. That woman I insulted is notorious here. Her bodyguards will do a lot more than a cursory glance-through to find me for her.” He gave a rueful smile. “And I suppose I should thank you, again. It seems like every time I meet you, you’re pulling me out of the way of someone’s fist.”

  “And every time I meet you, you’re trying to stick up for some stupid, helpless kid who’s got himself into trouble,” Tae muttered, grinning despite himself.

  Ivan laughed again. “Well, in my defence, you were never actually either stupid or helpless.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Come on.”

  Tae stood as well. “Where did you want to go?”

  Ivan shrugged. “I don’t know. Another closet, probably. If we can stay out of sight for long enough that she takes her pique out on someone else, I’ll sneak back into the kitchens later.”

  Tae stood as well, with a decisive shake of his head. “No. I have a better idea. I’ll take you back to our rooms.” He glanced at his com. “Masha will be gone, most likely, and most of the others, and you can sit tight there until it’s safe to come out.”

  Ivan gave him a worried glance. “You can’t take me back there. You’ll end up in more trouble than you’re already in.”

  “Give me a minute,” said Tae. He glanced around quickly, slipped out of the cupboard, and walked casually down the hall between two of the c
ameras. Once he’d passed, he tapped his com and fed the video image into the spoof. Then he sprinted back down the hall and yanked the closet door open.

  “We’ve got to hurry,” he said. “This will only work as long as there’s no one else in the corridor. Let’s go.”

  Ivan stared at him for a moment. “What—”

  “I spoofed the cameras,” he said through his teeth. “Let’s go.”

  Ivan shook his head, chuckling. “I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to work with you, Tae. Alright, let’s get out of here.”

  They ran down the corridors as silently as they could manage, and when they reached the door, they were both panting. Tae waved his com in front of the lock, and the lock clicked. He pushed the door open, shoved Ivan inside, pulled it closed again, then tapped something into his com. He took a deep breath as the spoof disengaged, and glanced behind him down the corridor.

  No one.

  Nothing odd about him strolling casually down the corridor on camera, pausing in front of the door, and opening it.

  He slipped inside, pushed the door shut, and leaned against it, releasing the breath he’d been holding.

  Ivan smiled at him from a seat in the corner. He glanced around the small room and raised a questioning eyebrow. “So. Time for your long story, I think.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  JEZ FROWNED AT the muffled voices from the room outside. It was Tae, but she was pretty sure the other voice wasn’t Lev.

  She stood, putting her hand to her heat-pistol. Kid hadn’t got himself in trouble, had he? From the way he’d been skulking around, she wouldn’t put it past him.

  Carefully, she nudged her door open just a crack.

  She stared for a moment. Then she shoved the door all the way open, grinning in delighted disbelief. “Ivan?”