by M. R. Forbes
“Let’s hope we don’t need it,” Abbey said.
“Queenie,” Ruby said over the ship’s loudspeakers. “We’ve received clearance from Orunel. Lucifer is ready to drop.”
“Thank you, Ruby,” Abbey said. “That’s our call.”
She led them out of the space and to the hangar, where the Imp was already humming, its reactor online. Bastion was visible through the cockpit’s small viewport, watching them make the walk across the hangar.
Ruby was waiting outside.
“Queenie,” she said, saluting.
“Not military,” Abbey reminded her.
“My alternate programming is that of a pleasure bot,” Ruby replied. “Would you prefer a kiss?”
“I would,” Benhil said.
“Stick with the salute,” Abbey said.
“As you command. I’ll keep the Faust ready to receive you in the event of an emergency.”
“You know how to fly this thing?” Benhil asked.
“Well enough not to crash.”
“That’s not very inspiring.”
“A pilot’s a pilot,” Abbey said. “Let’s go. Thank you, Ruby.”
“My pleasure,” she replied.
“What about my pleasure?” Benhil said as they climbed into the shuttle. “You didn’t tell me we had a pleasure bot onboard.”
“She’s not a pleasure bot,” Gant said. “She’s Mann’s assistant.”
“I wonder what else she’s assisted him with.”
“Jester shut it,” Abbey said, picking up a small, clear wad of material and shoving it into her ear. “Lucifer.”
“Queenie,” Bastion replied, his voice coming through the nearly invisible communicator. “Everybody strapped in back there?”
“Just about. You can seal us in and prep for launch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The ramp closed, the shuttle shuddering as the power was shifted to the thrusters.
“I’ll have to take a look at the stabilizers when we get back,” Gant said. “That shouldn't be happening.”
“Ruby,” Abbey said.
“Yes, Queenie?” she replied through the communicator.
“Whatever Jester says or does, the answer is always no.”
Ruby’s laughter was obviously tuned to attract, soft and slightly breathless. “Yes, Queenie.”
“Hey,” Benhil complained. “She’s part of the crew. We should use her for what she was made for.”
“She’s here to support our mission.”
“That is supporting our mission.”
“You don’t like it?” Abbey said. “Take it up with the person in charge.”
He creased his eyebrows. “But, you are-” He paused. “Oh. I get it. Funny.”
The shuttle vibrated more strongly as it lifted from the hangar floor and began moving toward the exit.
“I don’t like this,” Pik said in response to the shaking.
“I already said I would fix it later,” Gant replied.
The shuttle passed through the force shield keeping space where it belonged, moving into the vacuum. The vastly blue world of Orunel was visible through the cockpit transparency ahead, the city glimmering on its island near the center. Dozens of other starships hung around them, a collection of miners and traders and transports from a number of worlds.
They were all pushed back slightly in their seats as Bastion punched the throttle, sending them rocketing forward.
“Oh shit,” she heard Bastion say in excited response to the acceleration. “This baby is custom.”
He rolled them a few times before leveling off and smacking into the atmosphere, pushing through and out into the air below. The shuttle quaked the entire time, and Abbey could see Gant was getting annoyed by the imperfection.
It took eight minutes to reach the spaceport. It was massive in scale, and already serving nearly a thousand ships of both Republic and Outworld design, segregated into separate sections of the area in an effort to avoid trouble. They were directed to the Outworld side, touching down in the midst of the other shuttles.
“Gear up,” Abbey said, getting to her feet.
She picked up a long overcoat with a high collar from a small locker at the front of the shuttle, slipping it on and nearly hiding the entire softsuit. She checked her reflection there, turning her head to make sure the Hell brand was invisible beneath a patch of false skin. While Airi had put on a follicap to hide her baldness and grow a shoulder-length mane of synthetic black locks, Abbey hadn’t bothered to cover up, figuring the lack of hair helped complete her overall look.
The others took their turns after her, finishing their outfits with jackets and hats, working to blend in with the population while setting up their nodes in the comm network.
“Roll call,” Abbey said once they were all outfitted and waiting at the rear of the shuttle. “Queenie, check.”
“Jester, check,” Benhil said.
“Fury, check,” Airi said.
“Lucifer, check,” Bastion said.
“Gant, check,” Gant said.
“Okay, check,” Pik said.
Satisfied, Abbey tapped the control pad to lower the ramp.
“Let’s go, Rejects.”
40
They took a ground shuttle from the spaceport to the city center, making sure to stay separated. Abbey paired up with Airi, while Gant sat nearby, alone. Pik was also by himself, close to Bastion and Benhil, who sat at the front of the transport. The other riders on the shuttle were as eclectic a bunch as they were. Republic soldiers in crisp uniforms, Outworld nomads in scuffed and worn starsuits, the wealthy in richly threaded clothes and the poor in dirty rags. It was an interesting, impressive mix, unlike anything she had ever witnessed on Earth, where people of different origins and classes tended to remain apart.
“We’re getting off at the next stop,” Benhil said to Bastion, his voice carrying across the team’s network. “I know a good place to eat there.”
They all stood when the shuttle reached their stop, disembarking to the side of a busy walkway. Benhil made short eye contact with Abbey before vanishing into the middle of the crowd.
Orunel was a unique place. Since most of the population was composed of incoming traders and tourists, the economy centered almost solely on catering to them, offering a broad reach of entertainment and dining options; a pleasure for every taste. The variety was extended by the number of races that frequented the location, and so not only were Terrans catered to, but Trovers, Rudin, Fizzigs, Atmo, and more could also find something of interest or something they might be missing from their homeworld. It meant there was a consistent buzz of energy in the air, an organic, ever-shifting force of life that made Orunel seem like the ideal place to be.
“Don’t let it all fool you,” Benhil said softly through the comm so that he wouldn’t be overheard. “This place barely stays under control, and it’s ready to blow up at any moment. There are too many Republics mixed with Outworlders here, and I have a feeling all of the bullshit with the stolen ships is going to be making it silently worse.” He was quiet for a moment. “Not to mention, the whole damn thing is a front for the real business, which all happens underground. Everyone knows it. Nobody admits it.”
“Mamma Oissi?” Abbey said.
“She’s one of the biggest players. I don’t know if I can get us to her personally, but even her third-degree lackeys know more than most.”
“If she’s got the answers, we’ll get to her.”
“How are you going to make that happen?”
“I’m a Breaker. It’s what I do.”
Benhil laughed. “I like the way you think, Queenie. Your confidence is infectious. But this isn’t some second-rate Outworlder we’re talking about here.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“I think my great-great-great-great grandfather used to say that.”
Abbey continued trailing behind them, separated by more distance than would have been smart if they didn’t
have a Trover with them. Pik towered over most of the crowd, making him easy to spot and easy to follow, from the streets down into a subterranean network of fast-moving transports. She had to scan a payment card to get a pass into the underground system; thankful Captain Mann had thought all of that out, too. The cards were anonymous and untraceable. Most of the cards that got scanned here were probably the same.
They waited at the edge of an ultra-clean platform while a number of the underground transports paused ahead of them, allowing people on and off before rocketing away again. Abbey stayed close enough to Benhil and the others that she could keep up with them, but far enough that only the most seasoned operative might have guessed they were one unit.
“Are we going to stand here all day?” she asked.
“There’s a system to this,” Benhil said. “See how the shuttles are marked?”
Abbey watched one go by without slowing, barely catching a glimpse of a colored streak as it passed. “Color-coded?”
“Yeah. We want black. That one will stop where we want to go, as long as we tell the steward we want to stop.”
“Sneaky. You’re telling me the Republic does or doesn’t know about this?”
“Yup. Of course, they do. But sometimes you need to let these things happen. Enterprises like Mamma Oissi’s lead to better intel for everyone. You should understand that part of the game.”
“I do, but I haven’t had much occasion to operate in this sort of environment before.”
“Which is why I was bailed out. Hey, here it comes now. Stay close once we board or I won’t be able to include you in the group.”
“Roger.”
The shuttle stopped, the doors opening. It was a much lighter crowd than some of the other cars had carried. Abbey followed Benhil onto it, bringing them all back together once they were on board. She could feel the pressure of the inertial dampeners as the vehicle quickly accelerated.
“Excuse me, sir,” she heard Benhil say to a taller Terran in a dark suit. “Do you have the time? In Earth Ordinary, if you don’t mind. Is it after six?”
The suit lifted an arm. Abbey noticed his hand was metallic. An augmentation or a replacement?
“Fourteen seven three,” he replied.
“Thank you,” Benhil said. He glanced back at Abbey and winked.
They got off the third time the shuttle stopped, the steward watching carefully as they disembarked, counting their numbers. Only a few other individuals joined them, and they lowered their heads and went on their way without making eye contact.
“How far underground are we?” Gant asked.
“I’m not sure,” Benhil replied. “Nobody knows exactly where Mamma Oissi’s is. The car has all kinds of jamming tech on board to keep from being accurately positioned. I’ve heard a lot of rumors that the place is actually in the sediment beneath the ocean.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Airi said.
The shuttle platform led out into a large concourse, which itself was an open market of a kind Abbey had never witnessed before. There were vendors hawking food and clothes, sure, but there were just as many selling things that were illegal whichever nation you were from. Drugs, guns, augmentations, fake identification, even tech designed to hide away illicit cargo, like the kind the Fifth had used to steal the guns from Gradin. It was all there and out in the open, and she saw more than one Republic uniform amidst the crowds, taking a look at the gear, and in one case buying a patch of something.
“I don’t fragging believe it,” Gant said as they made their way through the throng.
By the time she turned to look at him, he had scurried across two rows to one of the smaller stalls.
“Rejects, hold up,” she said, giving chase while the others came to a stop. She caught up to Gant at the display, surprised to find another Gant in charge of the wares.
“They really do have everything here,” Gant said, picking up a gun. It had been modified to fit a Gant’s two-thumbed grip.
“Watch where you point that thing,” Abbey said as the barrel swung toward her.
“Shit. Sorry, Queenie.” He lowered it. “How much?”
“Five hundred,” the other Gant replied.
“Thousand?” Gant said, incredulous.
“Supply and demand.”
“How much demand can there be for a Gant gun?” Gant said.
The other Gant said something Abbey’s translator didn’t understand. Gant’s lip curled, revealing sharp teeth. “You little piece of-”
“Gant,” Abbey said. Both of them looked at her.
“Two-fifty,” the other one said. “That’s as low as I go.”
“Include the holster, and we have a deal,” Abbey said before Gant could continue arguing. She dropped her card on the table. The Gant took it and scanned it, and then handed it back.
“Deal. A pleasure doing business with you.”
Gant held the gun, staring at it like it was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. A few seconds later, his eyes darkened.
“I don’t know if you can trust me with this,” he said.
“Why not?”
His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak.
“You said we were friends,” Abbey said.
“I know. That’s the problem. The last time-” He paused. “Forget it. Thank you.”
“Let’s keep moving. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
41
Mamma Oissi’s wasn’t what Abbey expected. It was crowded, but somehow it managed to keep an air of formality and a contained energy that separated it from what she had painted in her mind. It was no den of villainy. It wasn’t home to the scum of the galaxy. It was organized, orchestrated, refined.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. The Rudin were known for their attention to detail and their meticulous nature. There was order within the groups of individuals seated in booths or around open tables, sitting at one of a number of bars, participating in games of chance or watching the Terran singer in the color-changing long dress belting out songs Abbey had never heard before. There was a rhythm to it. A life of its own. Even the multitude of cleaning bots that wandered around the place picking up empty glasses and discarded trash were bright and shiny and perfectly maintained.
“What do you think?” Benhil asked.
“I feel underdressed,” Abbey replied, looking down at herself. Maybe the style was unique, but it felt out of place amidst the individuals who were trying harder to look like they could afford whatever it was they came to buy or sell. Not that there weren’t others in more standard Outworld dress, and even a few in armor, but they looked more like bodyguards than big dealers.
“You stand out. In a place like this, that’s hard to do.”
“In a place like this, I don’t know if standing out is a good thing.”
She looked around. She had no idea how far the reach of the High Honorant extended, whoever and whatever the hell he was. Being too obvious was more likely to get her noticed by the wrong individuals, as much as by the right ones.
“Where’s Mamma Oissi?” she asked.
“She has a private suite up there.” He pointed to a massive colored screen above the largest of the bars. “If you want to get up, you need to convince him.” He shifted his finger to a Trover that made Pik look tiny in comparison. He was easily five meters tall, the largest humanoid she had ever seen.
“Got it,” Abbey said. “Rejects spread out, keep an eye out for trouble. I’m going to see if I can get a word with Oissi.”
“Hmm. This is boring,” Pik said. “I should have stayed on the ship with Ruby.”
“Not you too, Okay?” Abbey said.
“It’s been a long time.”
“She wasn’t made for you,” Bastion said. “I think you’d break her.”
“I’m very gentle. That’s another skill.”
“One we don’t need.”
“Ruby needs it.”
“Hopeless,” Gant s
aid.
“Enough,” Abbey said. “Nobody touches Ruby. She’s got a new directive. A military directive. Don’t piss me off.”
“Sorry, Queenie,” Pik said.
“How can you be bored, anyway?” Bastion said. “You spent two years in Hell. Doesn’t it feel good to get out, stretch your legs, have some activity around you?”
“It’s okay, I guess. That singer is hurting my ears. Those ancient Terran songs are terrible. What does ‘I’ll keep holding on,’ mean, anyway?”
Abbey shut out their banter, separating from Jester and moving toward the Trover. “Does that living mountain have a name?” she asked.
“Ill,” Benhil replied.
“As in, sick?”
“In Terran, yeah.”
He was being distracted by an Atmo by the time she reached him. The smaller humanoid was speaking quickly, and gesturing to the door behind the bouncer. He barely came up to the Trover’s knee.
“I’ll pass a message and let you know,” Ill said. “Now frag off.”
The Atmo groaned and turned away, rejected. Ill noticed Abbey approaching, turning his large bulk toward her and frowning.
“Mamma doesn’t need another whatever the frag it is you think you are,” he said.
Abbey smiled. “Who says I came to see Mamma?” she replied. “Maybe I came to see you.”
“Yeah. I believe that. Frag off.”
“You’re the biggest Trover I’ve ever seen. How’d they even fit you through the tunnels?”
He softened slightly. “I’ve been here since I was a kid. Can’t get out of here, now.”
“Does that get lonely?”
“Nah. Mamma adopted me when I was your size. She’s always got lots of indivs around. Look, we don’t need to play games. You didn’t come to flirt with me. Everyone wants to talk to Mamma. Everyone.”
Abbey shrugged. “You’ve probably had a million individuals approach you in a million ways to speak to Mamma directly.”
“That’s right.”
“Did any of them ever tell you they had information about Sylvan Kett and a potential Republic conspiracy?”
