by Gary Gibson
‘Because time doesn’t actually exist within superluminal space?’
‘Exactly.’ That toothy grin again. ‘It’s the virtual time that allows the physical matter to begin degrading.’
‘But that’s purely theoretical, isn’t it? We don’t know this for a fact.’
Olivarri was standing with one gloved hand resting on the lower curve of a drive-spine. He raised his other hand and waggled it from side to side. ‘No, but it’s the current best explanation, unless the Shoal have a better idea, and they weren’t telling us even before they pulled a vanishing act. But virtual time at least explains why the degradation starts from the outside’ – he lifted his helmeted head to look up towards the tip of the drive-spine – ‘and works its way in towards the hull, rather than affecting every atom of the frigate at once. You need to introduce time, even if it’s just virtual time, to explain that.’
‘Like the little bubble of virtual space-time we’re caught in had started to shrink.’
‘Exactly. And because the virtual time that passes is vanishingly small—’
‘We come out with relatively minor degradation.’
‘Got it.’ That brilliant toothy smile again.
Ty turned to look behind him towards the stern. He couldn’t even pick out the Hyades Cluster any more, and it was only six days since they had left Redstone. A hundred metres away, a couple of spiders were hovering around another drive-spine, getting ready to repair some of that very same degradation.
He and Olivarri had decoupled the failed drive-spine, and half a dozen spiders were ready, their extendible arms gripping it at various points, to lift it away from the hull once the clamps that attached it in place were released.
Its replacement waited nearby, held in place by its own separate retinue of spider-mechs. It was a tricky and dangerous procedure, so all three humans kept a safe distance for the moment, letting the spiders do most of the work, and stepping in only where absolutely necessary.
Despite the precautions, there had already been some near fatalities. Lamoureaux had nearly fried himself getting too close to some frayed power-conduits; a hull-plate had swung loose while being detached, totalling a couple of spiders and very nearly taking Corso with it. And that wasn’t even taking into account the greater risk of replacement drive-spines blowing up once they were plugged into the frigate’s plasma flow, if they weren’t configured in just the right way.
Given those risks, using the spiders generally, with a few human beings at hand to step in if absolutely necessary, was a fine idea in principle, except that in practice the team had to take over from the spiders on pretty much every occasion. The mechs were fine for grunt work, but the more delicate aspects of the job required human hands and minds.
‘Okay,’ said Nancy, ‘releasing the clamps now.’
The restraints holding the drive-spine in place slid back into the hull, and the spiders arranged around it began emitting tiny jets of gas. Slowly, ponderously, the spine rose away from the hull, tilting to one side as the spiders coordinated with each other. The new drive-spine began to move forward as its own retinue of spiders pushed it towards the slot.
The work was so tedious that it was easy to fall into lengthy conversations. Nancy and Leo had spent most of this shift talking politics, and they quickly picked up the same thread again as the spider-mechs dragged the two drive-spines in different directions.
‘Am I right in thinking,’ asked Olivarri, ‘that the only people who’re allowed to vote or hold political office in the Freehold are those who’ve seen military service?’
‘Well, mostly,’ Nancy replied. ‘Senator Corso’s one of the exceptions, but for most of the Senate members, yeah. It’s a sane principle.’
‘Sane how?’ asked Olivarri.
‘Well, think about it,’ Nancy replied. ‘Why should someone who isn’t prepared to pick up a gun to actively defend his or her society get to have a say in how that society is run?’
‘Well . . . I’m not sure that the kind of people who are prepared to pick up a gun, based on an argument like that, are the ones I’d want running things for me.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they usually turn out to be exactly the kind of people I need protecting from in the first place.’ Olivarri guffawed.
Nancy made a sound of disgust. ‘You just don’t understand.’
‘What’s not to understand?’ Olivarri shot back. ‘That’s exactly why the Freehold were booted from world to world.’
‘Leo, seriously. You have no understanding of the historical context. Our ending up on Redstone had nothing to do with our relations with the Consortium. The Freehold is about self-determination. It’s about the right of the individual to defend herself and not to have to answer to any authority that wants to take away her basic human right to self-determination.’
Ty sighed quietly. Leo appeared bent on needling Nancy, and she appeared unable to resist rising to the bait every time.
‘Okay,’ said Olivarri, ‘so what happened to all those ideals? That’s – what – two coups you’ve had in a little over two years?’
‘Because . . .’ Nancy sighed. ‘The wrong people are in charge, that’s all.’
‘Those people with the guns, you mean.’
Ty was deeply grateful when they all received an automated alert that the new drive-spine was ready to be locked into place. Nancy moved in close, obsessively rechecking the hull clamps and running a final systems scan. After a few minutes she stepped back, and they watched as the spiders slowly lowered the new drive-spine into its slot, the clamps snicking smoothly into place.
‘Nice,’ said Leo approvingly. ‘Everything went right, just for once.’
But Ty reflected on how often the drive-spines were failing, and how many of them would need replacing before they reached the end of their journey. They were making long and frequent jumps that would take the Mjollnir a lot further and faster than it had needed to go on its maiden superluminal flight. At the rate they were going, they would end up having to cannibalize the ship itself for the necessary raw materials.
Nancy was in an ebullient mood once they got back inside.
‘C’mon, Nathan, come back up to the centrifuge with us. You can’t hide away from the rest of us for ever.’
Ty stowed his helmet on a rack in the changing room and climbed out of his pressure suit, wrinkling his nose at the smell of his own stale sweat. He twisted his head around in a slow circle, hearing the crunch of tired muscles as he locked his hands together behind his head and stretched a little.
‘Maybe,’ he replied. But Nancy understood that maybe within the context of their developing relationship really meant definitely.
Ty glanced at Olivarri, who was pretending not to listen. He had no idea what the other man might report to Corso, though perhaps it was better to play safe. ‘But not this time,’ he added, for Olivarri’s sake. ‘Maybe next time.’
‘What next time?’ Nancy jeered, smacking him in the chest with a glove she had removed before tossing it into a bin below the helmet rack. She was grinning, but Ty recognized the uncertainty in her smile.
‘Soon,’ he mouthed at her, then glanced again at Olivarri to make sure he hadn’t noticed. He would sneak up to Nancy’s quarters only when he thought he was less likely to run into anyone else.
‘Shower!’ Olivarri shouted, pushing away from them and heading towards the washing facilities. ‘I need a fucking shower.’
With a thin, permeable mask covering his nose and mouth, Ty groaned with pleasure as needle-thin jets of hot water washed away the tension that had gathered between his shoulders. The water shut off after two minutes, and was rapidly vacuumed out of the sealed shower cubicle while he leaned against its door.
He looked down at where his skin was red and chafed from wearing a pressure suit for hours at a time. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was stars scattered across the void like diamond dust.
Ty glanced down at the ring he still wo
re on his right hand, as the cubicle door clicked open. That encounter with the avatar back in Unity felt more and more surreal, the further the Mjollnir got from home, and yet the ring was always there to remind him he hadn’t just imagined it.
He grabbed a towel and pushed his way out, hastily drying himself before pulling on a set of clean clothes from the locker. How, he wondered, might he have gone about arranging that strange encounter, if he had been in the shoes of whoever was behind the avatar? What resources would he have needed?
Access to explosives, for a start. Ty brushed his fingers through his damp hair as he thought. Explosives wouldn’t be too hard to get hold of, for someone determined enough. His time with Peralta had taught him how cheap fabricators could be hacked to mix the right chemical compounds. Unmanned taxis were equally notorious for being easy to hack. The imaging equipment the agent had used to speak with him was expensive, but standard; all that was necessary was to pay someone to install it in an empty office, no questions asked. One man could do it. In fact, given modern tach-net comms technology, one man could organize it all and not even have to be on the same planet.
Ty paused, his eye catching the glint of the ring. The avatar/agent had threatened to expose him if he didn’t take the ring, but in reality he had already been exposed. For a start, Marcus Weil had recognized him, and he hadn’t been quiet about it. Quite possibly Martinez and the other members of the frigate’s crew were the only ones who did not know his true identity. All in all, it made a mockery of the avatar’s threat.
Filled with a sudden decisiveness, Ty grasped the ring and started to pull it off. He would fling it into the void the next time he was outside the ship.
He tugged it as far as his knuckle and then froze, gripped by a sudden conviction that something terrible would happen if he took the ring off. He just stood there, bewildered by his own sudden reluctance.
‘Hey.’
Ty spun around, his heart in his throat. It was Olivarri, and he had been so sure he was alone.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Olivarri. ‘You were standing there staring into space like you’d seen your own ghost.’
‘I’m fine. I was just . . .’ Ty reached up and realized with some confusion that his hair was now bone-dry. How long had he stood motionless? ‘I must be more exhausted than I thought,’ he stammered.
‘Yeah, I guess.’ Olivarri nodded warily. ‘Takes it out of all of us. Some of us haven’t clocked this much time doing EVA in more than ten years.’
Ty realized all he wanted to do was get out of there. ‘I guess so,’ he replied, and stepped past the other man.
‘Wait.’
Ty turned back in irritation.
‘There’s something we need to talk about,’ said Olivarri.
He stepped over to open a locker, withdrawing a slim black box. He placed this on a shelf under a mirror, then touched a hidden switch on top. A single orange light on one side blinked into life.
Ty stared at the device in confusion. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s a jamming device. I’m just making sure our conversation stays private, in case anyone’s listening in.’
Ty looked around. ‘What exactly is it you want, Leo?’
‘You’re going to help me make sure the Mos Hadroch gets into the right hands, Mr Whitecloud.’
Ty stared back at him. ‘Who exactly are you?’
Olivarri spoke low and fast. ‘I work for the Legislate, Ty. I can make sure you’re safe when you get back to the Consortium. Nobody will ever find you, and that’s more than Senator Corso could ever guarantee. As far as anyone’s concerned, you’ll disappear. If you cooperate, we’ll give you a whole new life, and you’ll never have to worry about anyone tracking you down again. All you have to do is agree to help me.’
‘So . . . you’re, what? A spy?’
‘I work for the Consortium Security Services. I was meant to bring you into custody along with the Mos Hadroch. Then the Senator decided to take the frigate by force and, by the time I learned about it, it was too late to come up with an alternative plan.’
Ty shook his head. ‘Just what is it you want from me?’
‘Nothing just yet,’ Olivarri replied. ‘Right now I’m just establishing contact. We wanted the artefact where we could run our own tests but, by the looks of it, Merrick and Corso have access to information we don’t. For the moment, we’re going to let them run things the way they want to.’
Ty stared back at him. ‘Then what the hell do you need me for?’
‘We’re concerned about what happens to the artefact after it’s been implemented. It’s a powerful weapon that could conceivably be used to shut down the Tierra cache once the Mjollnir returns to the Consortium – or any other cache, for that matter. That makes it too valuable to allow it to remain in anyone else’s hands.’
So that’s it. ‘But why didn’t you tell me any of this before – when you first contacted me? And what about this ring?’ he asked, bringing his hand up and displaying it to Olivarri. ‘What the hell is it for?’
‘What?’ Olivarri glared at him. ‘Ty, what the hell are you talking about?’
‘What am I talking about?’ Ty laughed. ‘You’re the ones who contacted me.’
‘Ty, no one else in the security services has been in contact with you, apart from myself, believe me.’
‘But . . .’ The explosion, the taxi, the meeting with the avatar.
‘Wait,’ continued Ty. ‘This doesn’t make sense. There was that Consortium agent back in Unity. Who was he?’
Someone who merely claimed they worked for the Consortium, Ty reflected. He stared at the ring on his finger as if seeing it for the first time. He had a sudden, overwhelming sense that there was something he needed to remember.
‘Ty, I swear, nobody from my side has approached you before now. I can guarantee that.’
Then who the hell . . . ?
Ty suddenly felt a deep terror grip hold of him. He pushed roughly past Olivarri, the sudden motion sending the other man sprawling.
Ty collided with the door, and clumsily pulled himself through, and kept going, caroming from side to side as he made his way down a passageway leading towards the nearest transport station. Only once he had reached it, and climbed inside a car, did he finally come to a halt, lungs aching breathlessly.
He glanced frequently out through the car’s open door towards the hub entrance, but there was no sign yet that Olivarri had followed him.
Ty was seized by a crippling pain in his head and he doubled over, gripping his skull and crying out at the unexpectedness of it. As he squeezed his eyes tight shut, he saw a tiny but intense flash of light in his peripheral vision, and . . .
The next thing he knew, he was still inside the transport car, but his hands were grimy and his body stank of sweat like he had never once taken a shower.
There was something he had to remember . . . something important.
But, however hard he tried, it wouldn’t come back to him.
Chapter Twenty-four
The Mjollnir jumped again only seven hours later, before dropping back into space several hundred light-years closer to the edge of the Orion Arm. Ahead lay the region of the Long War, the main battleground of the Shoal’s fifteen-thousand-year conflict with the Emissaries, and beyond that the Perseus Arm.
Once the all-clear had sounded, Lamoureaux climbed back out of the interface chair and nodded to Corso.
‘We’re pushing it with these jumps, Lucas. Too many and too often. This ship wasn’t designed for that kind of stress.’
Corso glanced towards him. ‘Objection noted,’ he replied, and returned his attention to the console before him.
Lamoureaux thought of saying something more, then changed his mind and left the bridge: there was no point telling Corso what he almost certainly already knew. More than twenty drive-spines had failed this time. New ones were already being manufactured, but if they kept failing at this rate the Mjollnir’s jump capacity was going to be se
riously compromised.
Ty had paused in his work when the jump alert sounded, waiting quietly until the all-clear followed a minute later.
He dreaded the next time he might be assigned to a repair crew with Olivarri. Following their encounter, he had buried himself in his work, running ever more in-depth and increasingly aggressive scans of the Mos Hadroch, trying to get some idea of its internal structure. And yet, despite all his efforts, it remained as frustratingly opaque as ever.
He thought frequently of Nancy, of drowning himself in the taut muscular curves of her body. The more rational part of him would then like to catalogue the risks inherent in their affair, or remind him of the impossibility of it continuing after their return home. To his eternal surprise and consternation, the thought of the relationship coming to an end left him desolate.
He was still sitting there brooding half an hour later when the Mjollnir ’s primary control systems and life-support suffered a catastrophic failure, and another, more urgent, alarm began to sound.
Dakota had picked a cabin located outside the centrifuge, having spent too many years working and living in zero-gee conditions to ever really be able to sleep comfortably in gravity, simulated or otherwise. She was still lying there awake when the alarm sounded.
She instantly sat up and locked into the data-space, only to find that large parts of it had gone offline. It was like walking into a deserted house and finding that most of the doors had been locked.
A moment later she felt Lamoureaux pinging her from within the centrifuge.
Do we have any idea what’s going on?
To her considerable alarm, the lights suddenly flickered and went out. Emergency lighting kicked in a couple of seconds later, bathing her in a blood-red light. Some data trickled in from the exterior sensor arrays: nothing out of the ordinary was taking place outside the ship, which at least ruled out an external attack.
