by M. J. Locke
“Maybe Geoff managed to kill them all,” Amaya said in a hopeful tone. Xuan gave her a look, but did not reply.
Kamal anxiously eyed the lock door. “How do we know they aren’t already somewhere inside the mine that we haven’t checked?”
“We’d know if they were here,” Amaya said.
“Amaya is correct. They would not be trying to hide from us, if they were already inside. We would be dead.” The two young people looked at each other, but said nothing. Xuan continued, “How much do you know about explosives?”
They shook their heads. Kamal said, “Geoff is our expert.”
Amaya said, “The munibots have this software that lets you tell them what you want a blast to achieve, and they do all the drilling and setting and exploding for you. But Geoff is the only one who knows much about it.”
Kamal went on, “But the software is about how you want the bots to expose seams of ore or causing a controlled tunnel collapse or whatever, not using them as weapons. They might not work well.”
Xuan peered into his pack at the explosives there. “Oh, I think they should do just fine for our purposes.”
Kamal asked, “Are we really going to have to kill them?”
Xuan saw the troubled glint in the young man’s eyes behind his faceplate. Xuan paused. What else could he say?
“They intend to kill us, if they can.” But he couldn’t bring himself to tell them to kill. He had dedicated himself to seeking enlightenment. Would he truly abandon his Dharma now? Should he not take the way of peace and let fate decide how events played out?
Their worst fears were realized. As they started to leave the elevator, Xuan saw a suited figure moving along the conveyor away from them, toward the methane hopper station. He carried a weapon, and his back was to them. He had clearly just finished scouting out the longwall tunnel.
Xuan waved the others back into the airlock. Peering around the edge, he spotted another helmet above the rim of the hopper, then a third.
No air was present to carry the sound of their entry and the hopper was quite a distance down the way; the intruders did not notice them. Xuan motioned Kamal and Amaya to silence. He pointed at a partly overturned mine cart in the shadows at the conveyor’s near end. They both nodded, and the three of them shot across the opening to the cart and sank behind it. From concealment, they watched as the helmeted figures lofted themselves up out of the hopper at the other end of the longwall.
Xuan changed over to the frequency the mercenaries had been using before. Nothing. They must have changed it to avoid detection. He ran a scan and found their frequency, but it was gibberish. Encrypted.
The mercenaries gathered their weapons and supplies, and then headed down the longwall toward Xuan and the others. They were heading for the lock. Xuan pulled a charge out. He activated the signal receiver on the charge, set up the detonator for the charge, and removed the safety on the detonator. He gripped the explosive in one hand, and positioned his other thumb above the detonator switch. Amaya and Kamal stayed as still as they could, their eyes wide through their visors.
When the figures entered the lock, Xuan cocked his arm to hurl the charge into the lock after them, but after a long pause, the door closed with the mercenaries safe on the other side.
Kamal and Amaya looked at him. He heard the unspoken question as he deactivated the charge.
I nearly killed them, he thought. The explosive lay in his hand like an unhatched egg. Jane would have done it. I may have just cost us our lives.
They agreed on radio silence once they reached the chem plant, since their enemies were capable of tracking their communications. Xuan led the way to the slurry mixing hoppers. As they moved through the pipe, Xuan set two charges: one at the pipe entrance at the hopper, and the other near the junction below the maintenance hole.
Kamal gestured, looking excited. Xuan pressed his helmet to Kamal’s, who said, “Listen to this!” Then he did likewise to Amaya, and pinged their faces. Xuan heard a distress call. No—more than one! Clever young man.
“That has to be Geoff’s doing,” Xuan said to Kamal. He touched his helmet to Amaya’s and said, “Geoff got the word out. Help is on the way.”
“What next, then?” Amaya asked.
“We leave the pipe, and do our best to avoid detection. I blow the charges inside the pipes while you hide among the rocks, up on the hill. Then I distract our enemies and see if I can draw them away. You two find and rescue Geoff.” If you can. He did not say it but he saw that Amaya knew his meaning. “All right?”
She nodded behind her visor. Xuan then repeated the instructions to Kamal, who also nodded.
“They may have rescued the men you launched into orbit earlier,” Xuan told Kamal. “There may be as many as three armed men. Be forewarned: one of them, the biggest, the one with the silver striping down the arms and legs, is extremely dangerous. Stay away from him.” He repeated this instruction to Amaya. Then he led the way up the pipe, to the maintenance opening, and thrust his head out.
No sign of anyone. He ejected himself from the maintenance hole, looking around. The earthmover lay in a pile of crumpled metal and charred debris across the ridge. The chem plant piping and towers showed blast damage. Distress calls emanated from several small objects orbiting overhead. He alighted, magnified his visor’s optics and focused his own powerful vision, and saw that they were minerbots.
That explains the explosion, he thought. Geoff must have launched them into orbit—but how? With the earthmover, of course! Which was why they had counterattacked with a missile—which was why the earthmover was destroyed. Xuan swallowed despair. If Geoff was in the cab, he could not have survived.
Xuan decided. Mills and his sort intended great harm not only to these young people, but all of Phocaea. The way of peace would not do. He would have to borrow Jane’s harder kind of strength. He said a last, sorrowful meditation in his own mind, then signaled Kamal and Amaya to head up the hill. Once they were ensconced among the boulders, Xuan grabbed hold of a nearby piping support strut and triggered the detonator.
The explosion threw debris out the end of the pipe and collapsed the ground underfoot. Stones and boulders danced on the hillside. That should take the three men inside the mine out of commission for now, but perhaps it would not end their lives.
Mills bounded clumsily around the outcropping. Xuan grabbed a second explosive and launched himself at the other man. Mills shot at Xuan, but his balance was off, and the rifle’s powerful kickback sent him flailing backwards. Then Xuan was on him. They grappled briefly, a meter or two above the ground, their helmets pressed hard enough together that Xuan could hear Mills grunt and curse when Xuan struck him.
Xuan shoved the explosive between the bigger man’s airpack and helmet, then planted his feet on Mills’s chest and kicked off. Mills flew backward and bounced off the ground; Xuan soared into the sky in a wobbling tumble. Mills fired off another wild shot at him. It missed, and the kickback made Mills flail and lose his balance.
The tumbling disoriented Xuan. Am I far enough away? He couldn’t tell—everything was spinning. He spotted Amaya and Kam: they leapt over the outcropping, heading for something on the far side of the wrecked earthmover. Time to end this, he thought. He pressed the detonator.
A ball of light expanded outward from Mills, throwing bits of him everywhere. The blast’s shock wave pushed Xuan into the piping, where his feet got tangled. Painfully, he disentangled himself from the pipes and climbed down to stand swaying on Ouroboros’s metallic surface.
He surveyed the mess strewn about the landscape—and all over himself. The remains of the mobster Mills. That ends that problem, Xuan thought. Horror and disgust overcame him, and he doubled over, retching.
* * *
Mitch hailed Sean in his quarters, interrupting Sean’s briefing with Sergeant Maez-Gibson. “I’ve picked up something again.”
“Put it through.” The image—a brief increase in brightness—appeared in his waveface. Sea
n and Sergeant Maez-Gibson re-ran and studied the wavery image several times. A signal?
“Another explosion, I think,” the sergeant said. She pulled up her waveface and studied something. She said, “But not as big as the first two.”
Sean burst out, “What the ever-loving fuck is going on down there?” then called Mitch. “Soonest ETA?”
“If you two would buckle in and let me pull some gees, I can have us there in another four minutes.”
* * *
Geoff returned to consciousness on a wave of pain that seared all the way up his left side, from back of knee to armpit. He could not move his left arm, though it hung before him. The outer surface of his pressure suit was translucent in patches, and beneath he saw tubes and faint movement, but could not make any sense of it. He thought it was insects crawling on him, but that didn’t make any sense.
He flinched from the sunlight that burned through his cracked visor. He saw ground passing below. Then sun again, then dark space. He didn’t know where he was or what was happening, only wished the pain would stop.
He eventually remembered what he had done. He’d sent out the distress bots. There was one now, passing him in a lower orbit. He’d sent the shuttle off into the wild black yonder. Then there had been an explosion at the planet eater. Joey Spud would be pissed.
He must be in orbit around Ouroboros. Why wasn’t he dead yet? His suit’s integrity had been breached. But the emergency repair systems must have activated. That was what he was seeing in his suit. Good bugs, he thought. They were healing the gaps. Then tubes started growing across his visor, and he watched blankly—unsure if they were real—as they spread across his sight. The pain was breathtaking. Beyond, like a clock ticking, the sun, ground, and black sky rolled by. He felt sure he must die soon. He began to pray for it.
After a while he realized Amaya was next to him on her rocketbike, and she was talking to him. He assumed she was a hallucination.
“Geoff, can you hear me?”
“Hear you,” he croaked.
“You stupid ASS!” she yelled. She vanished, then reappeared in the periphery of his vision. “Macho prick! I could throttle you. We’re a team! Why did you go off by yourself? What are Kam and me? Wall decorations? Serves you right if you did go off and get yourself killed. Fucking imaichi. You’re worse than Ian.”
Now, that’s harsh, he thought.
Her visor light was on as she passed him again. He glimpsed her face. She flung further invectives as she struggled to adjust her orbit to match his. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I’ll be fine.
She was messing with a harvester net. The swearing convinced Geoff it was really her. (He had to believe he wouldn’t hallucinate an Amaya-style chewing-out. But maybe he would.) She said something about get ready and a tether, but Geoff couldn’t focus. A sharp tug and a pull caught him up in fresh waves of intense pain. She reeled him in over the bike seat and lashed him down, and he passed out again.
* * *
Jane and Vivian exited the hospital. Cold stung their faces. People huddled in the meshworks, still asleep, and the echoing clanks of machines moving city supplies and equipment Jane recognized as the early-morning routines of cluster maintenance. But the smell of unprocessed refuse and souring assembly fluid was more pungent than ever. Jane wondered how long it would be before she would stop noticing such things—much less stop needing to respond.
Vivian tugged on her sleeve and pointed: Val Pearce and a small contingent of armed security personnel were approaching.
She gestured for Vivian to depart, and turned to the security chief. “Hi, Val. What are you doing here?”
“Jane.” Her former counterpart looked uncomfortable. “The prime minister has learned of your kidnapping, and has ordered me to take you into protective custody. I’ve been asked to escort you to a safe location.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Come on! I’m not in any danger, and I’m not interested in being taken to a ‘safe location.’”
“Jane, don’t make this difficult. I’m sure we can work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out. I’m no longer the prime minister’s employee, I don’t need the cluster’s protection, and I have things to do.”
A small crowd had begun to gather, and the “Stroiders” fog and mechanical cams were thickening around them. Val shook his head. “I’m sorry about this.” He gestured, and his security people closed in. Vivian had drifted out of the way by now. Val said, as if reading a writ, “I have been charged with bringing you in, for the security of the cluster.”
“Benavidez doesn’t have authority to haul people off the streets simply on his say so. He needs court authorization.”
“Which I have. You are a material witness to kidnapping and murder,” Val replied. “We’re taking you in for your own protection.”
“Material witness? I’m one of the damn kidnap victims. Make up your mind! Am I a security risk, or do I need protection?”
Val lowered his voice. “For God’s sake, Jane, just come along quietly and talk Benavidez down. He got a call from Woody Ogilvie saying the ice sale is off because of Glease’s arrest, and he’s blaming it on you. Benavidez is fit to be tied.”
“Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll cuff you if I have to.”
“Let me see the court order.”
He handed her a legal scrip. The judge was a crony of Benavidez’s. Of course. “You haven’t got a handhold to grip on this, and you know it,” Jane told Val. “But whatever. I’ll come.”
Inwave, she forwarded the arrest warrant to Sarah and Chikuma, and then twitched her fingers and shot a quick message to Vivian, who was just then swinging up into the Nowie Spokeway: prep bms. w call u asaic. The young Viridian gave her a wave and entered the spoke.
Val and his contingent of security types took Jane to a hotel room at the Midtown Hilton, in New Little Austin. “Benavidez will be here in a few minutes,” Val told her. “Sit tight.”
He went out. Jane checked: Val had posted a guard outside the door who would not let her leave. The hotel operator would not allow her to make calls, and her waveface was strictly local mode. She called the guard in.
“I had very little to eat since early morning yesterday. Could I get room service?” she asked. The guard checked with Val inwave, and then said, “All right. What do you want?”
She ordered a lavish breakfast—this was on Benavidez after all, and she was in no mood to make gestures toward frugality tonight. After the guard left Jane used the restroom, then returned with a glass of water and propped the pillows up on the bed.
Again she pulled out the antipsychotics. It was time.
It was something, she thought at the Voice. Not fun, and not even real. I must say, you’ve got a weird sense of humor, picking a cranky old atheist as your prophet. But I guess we all have to work with the materials at hand.
She tossed the medicine back and washed it down. A bitter chemical taste stung her tongue. She tried to get comfortable. It was nearly four-thirty a.m, and she ached. A new day was about to begin. But they still had Woody Ogilvie’s military ships to deal with. And his ice. She called Vivian using Arachnid.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’ve reached the Badlands. We are prepping BitManSinger. What is your plan?”
“Before we go any further, you and I need to talk. Tell me what you have been doing out at Upside-Down Productions.”
Vivian’s avatar ran hands through hir hair. Ze looked, in that moment, very young and vulnerable. “I can’t say.”
“Vivian, I know that you must have been working with Nathan Glease. There is no way he could have obtained that hidden space in Kukuyoshi without the Viridians. Obyx has all but admitted all this already. But I need more specifics about Upside-Down. Without it, we are potentially walking into a trap.”
Vivian still didn’t speak. Hir avatar stared at Jane, arms folded.
“Look. I’m a ch
rome. You’re a mute. We both have reasons to distrust each other. But we are both Phocaeans,” Jane said, “we are stroiders, and the Martian mob has no love for either of us. There may be a way we can stop them, Vivian, but I can’t do it without you. I’m no longer resource commissioner, and I have no interest in harming your people.
“So. Fight together, or fail separately?”
Vivian stared at Jane across wavespace as if ze were trying to read some cryptic script scrawled inside the back of Jane’s skull. “Commissioner, where do you learn all these things?”
Jane’s mouth twisted. “I have friends in high places.”
“All right, then.” Ze sighed, face pinched with worry. “Yes. Six months ago, Nathan Glease came to us. He wanted our help. We honestly didn’t know what he had planned. All we knew was that he wanted to expand Ogilvie & Sons’ presence on Phocaea.”
“What did he tell you he was after?”
“He wanted a way to keep an eye on his enemies.” A furtive glance told Jane he had made no secret of the fact that he counted her among said enemies. “He had bribed John Sinton—”
“As in, John Sinton, CEO of Upside-Down Productions, Phocaea, Limited?”
“Correct. Glease bribed him to allow Ogilvie to hack the ‘Stroiders’ stream.”
“Are you sure?” But of course ze was sure. “Do you know what he bribed him with?”
“I’m not sure. But whatever it was, Sinton really wanted it. I overheard him once talking about how excited his superiors back on Earth would be when they heard what he had accomplished. He expects a big promotion, and a transfer back Downside.”
Sinton must have secured a promise from Glease that after the coup, Phocaea’s new administration would renegotiate the “Stroiders” contract. The most powerful communications network beyond Mars orbit would remain in Upside-Down’s hands, and not transfer to Phocaea when their “Stroiders” contract expired.