“Where’s Mookie?”
Rathnam turns to face the blank envoy, then says, “Excuse me.” His face blinks out.
I grunt in frustration, but put Rathnam from my mind. I stare at the woman in the mirror: the bags under her eyes are heavy and dark, while the rest of her skin looks paler than it should. Even at this distance I can see how greasy her hair is: shiny and lank. It’s long, but not uniformly. There are scars on her head from where they cut open her skull to do things to her brain. Mostly she looks small, even weak. I harden my features and she does the same, and that’s when I see the weapon MEPHISTO started making all those years ago.
Rathnam’s face returns and he takes up Stockton’s usual position in the corner.
“Who are we waiting for?”
“We must be patient a little longer, I’m afraid,” he says. “While we wait, perhaps we can continue our interview.”
“Where’s Mookie?” I ask again.
“Don’t worry, Mariam. Your friend Cadwell is right here.” Rathnam points at the mirror and I look back at my reflection. The image darkens by degrees until it disappears, replaced by Stockton’s envoy and Mookie standing behind the glass. They’ve given Mookie clothes, but his face and head are badly swollen, and slits of silver peek out from bruised eye sockets.
I nod, but Mookie stays perfectly still. I worry that he’s already interfaced with the Legion, but then he nods back, wincing at the movement.
“You could just call him ‘Mookie’; everyone else does.”
“And I could call you ‘Mars,’” Rathnam says, “but I don’t.” He begins reading from Mookie’s record: “Cadwell Amos Moreland—joined the imperial army at age seventeen, served in the 83rd Infantry Division as a combat medic. After five years of service, and thirteen tours, Moreland deserted his post while stationed on Scaraf. After a four-year gap he was apprehended by Commander Briggs. He has been languishing here for months now, abandoned by his friends; but he need never be alone again. Soon he will be Legion.”
“We never abandoned him. We never abandoned you, Mookie.”
Rathnam smiles. “You think I’m a fool, don’t you? I knew from the start that you could not have been captured so easily unless you allowed it. I know you came here to free Moreland, but now it’s too late.”
I lean back in my seat. “I’m going to get him out of here, and then I’m going to kill you.”
“Don’t threaten me, Mariam,” he says, finally dropping the veneer of politeness he’s maintained all this time. “If only you had talked, you might have gotten your friend back, but you refused to betray the insurgency.”
“We’ve been through this, doc,” I say, matching the venom of his voice with a little of my own. “I don’t know about any insurgency; if I did, I would have told you everything to stop you doing that to Mookie.”
“What about the riot you started on Aylett Station? Your show of force against the military has inspired other such actions throughout imperial space. Not only that, but you were clearly cooperating with Aylett locals.”
“I started that riot because I refused to let Briggs capture me, and the Ring One freaks joined in because they love any excuse to show off their mods. You see politics where the rest of us see survival.”
“Everything is politics.”
I roll my eyes and the doctor sneers. Standing behind the glass, Stockton just looks bored. Remembering his slap, I guess he’d rather be inflicting violence than hearing about it.
“Cadwell will leave here soon to join his siblings in the Legion; the only question remaining is whether you leave with him, or whether I throw you into a box and forget about you.”
“Leave with him?” I say, cautiously.
The other droid comes to life, holo-unit showing a woman’s face—strong nose, sharp jaw and cheekbones, dark eyes, and rich brown hair curled to stay off her face. I don’t normally pay much attention to hairstyles, but after weeks surrounded by unkempt prisoners and military-neat guards, her hair is sublime.
The woman doesn’t speak; she just rotates the torso of her android slowly as the eye lenses take in the cell and the two figures behind the glass.
“I see you’ve already performed the operation, doctor.”
“Yes; it was a complete success,” Rathnam says, sounding pleased with himself.
The woman grunts. “Both of you leave; I’d like to talk to Mariam and her friend alone.”
Stockton’s envoy goes blank first, but its hand stays wrapped around Mookie’s upper arm. Rathnam opens his mouth then closes it. After a few seconds, his face disappears too.
The woman paces across the room, momentarily obscuring Mookie from my sight with each lap.
She waves a hand in Mookie’s direction. “You’ve seen what we do here, then, with the prisoners we find suitable?”
I nod.
“And you’ve experienced Commander Briggs’s program firsthand; what a unique position to be in.
“Briggs was given children for his experiments, but we had to look elsewhere. A lot of prisoners died before we perfected the surgeries.”
I recognize the pattern of her speech, if not the voice—it’s the woman I spoke with before I arrived here; the leader of the Legion.
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” I say.
“Yes, briefly. Commander Zoe Hamid,” she says, taking a seat opposite.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Things didn’t go well for the last MEPHISTO commander who came looking for me.”
She nods. “That’s precisely why I’m here. We didn’t take Briggs’s program seriously before. Over a decade of training to produce psychics of varying ability and questionable loyalty? It seemed preposterous, until we saw what you did to him, how you single-handedly tore his fleet apart.
“I was serious before, Mariam; I want you to work for me.”
I look past Hamid to Mookie and raise my eyebrows. I’m sure if his face weren’t so badly bruised he’d do the same.
She laughs. “You might consider yourself an enemy to MEPHISTO, but I see your value. You’ve already been an asset: after you killed Commander Briggs, imperial intelligence uncovered his conspiracy. He had positioned a number of his subjects close to positions of power and influence. We don’t know what his end goal was, but we can guess.”
“Sera was right,” I say, softly.
Hamid tilts her head, but continues. “Some of those women agreed to work with me.”
“And the rest?”
“I did what I could for them, Mariam, but in the end they were executed.”
“So now you’ve come here to make me the same offer? Be your pet voidwitch or die?”
“I’m giving you a choice, Mariam—”
“Just call me Mars.”
“I’m giving you a choice, Mars: join me and lead the five women I’ve gathered. I need someone powerful enough to neutralize the others if required.”
“You said I have a choice; what’s my other option?”
“Join your friend here, and we’ll see just what happens when a voidwitch joins the Legion. The likelihood of you maintaining your abilities is extremely low,” she says flatly, “so I’d rather not go that route.”
“You call that a choice?”
“I’m hoping you won’t force my hand.”
“What would I do, if I worked for you?”
“Mars, don’t,” Mookie says, sounding distant behind that thick glass. I shake my head subtly but don’t look at him.
Hamid continues. “The six of you would be deployed as a commando unit. I would give you objectives, but how you carry them out would be up to you. This would only be two, perhaps three missions a year—you’d be brought in for situations that call for more nuance than the Legion is able to muster.” I hear an edge of distaste to her voice when she mentions the Legion, but before I can press her, she continues. “You will be well paid, and in your downtime you can do as you like.”
“I’d be a mercenary?” I say.
�
�Yes, I suppose.”
“And my other option is to let you replace my skull and make me join the Legion?”
Hamid turns her android’s hands so its palms face up. “What do you say?”
I rest my elbows on the table and hold my hands together in front of my mouth; pretend like I’m interested. I need to figure out how to disconnect Mookie before the nanotendrils, or whatever they are, get into his brain. I can’t do that in here, especially not if they send Mookie to join the Legion.
“I’ll get to leave Homan?”
“I can arrange for you to leave immediately.”
“What about Mookie?”
“He will leave with you, of course. We still need to transfer him to a facility where the rest of the surgeries can be performed.”
“Then I’m interested,” I say, and Hamid smiles. “There’s just one thing, though: if you’re in charge of a fucking hive mind of cyborgs, why do you need me?”
Hamid shifts in her seat, and the chair creaks beneath the envoy as she does so. She purses her lips and rolls her head to one side. She sighs, then finally speaks, “The Legion is a hive mind, but I’m not its queen. I give them orders, but an amalgam of their minds decides how they respond to those orders. Most were military personnel before their transformation, or former military like your friend here. The one thing all those minds have in common is their military training—training that instills within them a fervent belief in the supremacy of the empire and the godlike status of the emperor.”
I’m not sure I get it, so I say, “Why’s that an issue?”
Hamid’s hand rotates in its wrist cuff as she motions to me. “Your situation is a prime example. I should have been informed of your capture immediately; your fate should have been mine to decide. Instead, the Legion assessed your crimes and brought you here, and only informed me when you’d nearly arrived. They mistreated a valuable asset because they’re unable to deviate from the letter of the law.”
I chuckle. “You’re recruiting witches because you’ve lost control of your toys? What happens if they catch you breaking the law one day?”
“I hope to never find out.”
“How long until he’s one of them?”
“It depends on proximity. I’ll be in-system shortly; he should connect to the others quickly once I arrive with the Legion.”
I keep my eyes on the commander. “Alright,” I say. “I’ll join you, but—”
“No!” Mookie yells, louder, pulling against the unmoving grip of Stockton’s envoy. “Kill her and run!”
“You’d die, Mookie,” I say, my voice wavering slightly.
“It’s too late for me anyway.”
I hold my eyes open wide and wait for the rising tears to dissipate. “I need to know something first,” I tell Hamid. “Rathnam said my friends died leaving Miyuki; do you know if that’s true?”
“I’m sorry, Mars,” Hamid says, and my heart sinks. “I haven’t heard anything about them.”
Relief floods through my veins and I smile, shake my head, and exhale, all at once. “Okay,” I say. “When do we leave?”
“I’ve ordered a shuttle up from Seward. It will take you down to the surface where you can meet the other five recruits and wait for me.”
“They’re already here?” I ask. That might make things more difficult.
“They were elsewhere when I dispatched the fleet to Seward, and they were not held up as I have been.”
“How long ’til you arrive?”
“Under a day,” she says.
I nod. Less than a day to ditch the space witches, contact the others—if they’re still alive—and figure out how to disconnect Mookie from the Legion?
Plenty of time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rathnam bit his tongue when Hamid told him the news. I’m sure he was hoping I’d fight, so he could watch a robot cut my head open next. Even through the holo-unit I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
As Stockton leads me and Mookie to Induction for fresh clothing, he utters an endless litany of curses; muttering about how they shouldn’t trust me, how they shouldn’t let me go. You’re smarter than you look, fucko.
Once I’m wearing clothes beneath my cloak, I hug Mookie, putting my arms high around his neck, above the bomb collar, so he has to bend down to my height.
Mookie whispers in my ear, “They told me you were all dead.” He sniffs. “I’m glad I can hold you while I’m still me.”
“Shut up,” I say, then I squeeze him tighter, feeling how little of him there is to hold.
I make Stockton take us to the women’s wing. Half of them stare at Mookie as we walk through the mess hall, eyes drawn to the first man they’ve seen, in the flesh, for the longest time.
Ali’s at the far end with her back to me, hunched over and eating. I rush down the middle aisle between tables.
“Prisoner,” Stockton bellows, but I ignore him—I’m no prisoner now.
I touch Ali on the shoulder and she turns, stands, and hugs me.
“Listen, I’m getting down to the planet,” I say in Ali’s ear.
I pull away and her eyes are wide. “You’re leaving me?”
I hold her hand, and lean in close. “I’m going to get you out, but I need you ready, okay?”
She blinks slowly as she nods.
“I don’t know how, but I’m going to shut security down. When that happens, I need you to get to the dock, and get everyone else to follow, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Prisoner!”
I squeeze her hand. “Goodbye, Ali.”
* * *
At the tube station outside the Maximum Security Site, Stockton hands us over to another guard, then sneers and turns away. This second guard escorts me and Mookie through the transit system and brings us to the dock.
I pause to glance around the inside of the Sphere. It’s still breathtaking: incredible, beautiful, and weird. I haven’t seen the farms, or gotten to explore the forest; I haven’t discovered what kind of animals they introduced to create a biosphere. It feels like a missed opportunity, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay.
“Your transport has arrived,” the guard says. She lifts both hands like she’s going to choke me, then I see the tips of her android fingers split open, revealing a set of fine tools. After a few seconds of work she pulls the collar away and stows it at her back. For the first time in weeks I can swallow without a dull pain at my throat.
She removes Mookie’s collar too, and I put my hand on the back of his bare neck and feel the intricate scarring there. I pull his head toward me, and press my forehead to his. He’s beaming.
“Your breath stinks,” I say, and Mookie laughs.
The guard turns back to the tube, and within a couple of steps her head disappears. The gate over the dock tunnel grinds as it rises. One by one the lights along the tunnel floor come to life.
“Maybe I can be a medic in the Legion,” Mookie says, “instead of a soldier.”
I put my arm around Mookie’s emaciated waist. “I’ll figure something out, Mook; you’ll never be one of those bastards.”
Mookie hugs my shoulder and we walk toward the dock’s tunnel. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure, but it’ll be big.”
I take one final look at the prison behind us, then we step into the tunnel, falling under the cold, void-black shadow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As Mookie and I watch the movement of planetary bodies out the shuttle viewport, our two MEPHISTO minders eyeball us, guns held across their laps. The local star hides on the far side of Seward while the shuttle disengages from Homan Sphere and takes us down toward the planet’s surface.
The capital city is a distant twinkling mass that slowly takes shape as we approach. Street lights form concentric rings joined by an axis of wider highways, the whole city laid out like a gargantuan crosshair.
“It’s huge,” Mookie says, leaning his head on my shoulder as we
watch the city coming into focus.
I nod. “I was just expecting a base.”
The troopers look odd at the edge of my vision—real faces, real skin, bodies that aren’t uniform in size and shape—flesh and blood instead of android steel. They’re standard grunts, lacking the scarring of the Legion, but they still sneer at us like we’re subhuman.
The shuttle keeps descending until we’re close enough to make out individual structures—towering skyscrapers dwarfed by the barrels of two cannons reaching into the night sky. Near the center of the city, a column of solid light illuminates the surrounding buildings as it points to the firmament.
We come in low near this beacon, flying toward a huge ziggurat. The top of the building is stepped, with the highest floor jutting out like a squat head, and two more steps down before the rest of the building drops uniformly. There’s a massive opening in its middle, and the shuttle’s engines lower in pitch and spike in volume as we head into this central hangar.
The dock is vast, large enough for ships triple the size of our shuttle, and lined with dozens of vehicles. The largest of the space-faring vessels looks like it could hold a hundred passengers in a pinch; I’ll need something bigger for the Homan breakout.
The shuttle lands with the gentle touch of an expert pilot, either human or AI, and the soldiers stand. They wait for me and Mookie to disembark first, playing it like the deferment is a courtesy. Really they just want to keep their weapons trained on our backs as we walk clear of the ship.
A man is waiting for us, young, attractive in a plain way, and dressed in a navy-blue suit. It has the sheen of fine spider silk, with the name “Ken” visible across the breast in shimmering threads of maroon.
He pretends to not notice the armed escort and says, “Mariam Xi, Cadwell Moreland, it’s my honor to welcome you to the Hotel Benway.” His is a clean, upper-class accent, from one of the planets in the Interior where Mandarin is spoken just as much as English.
Someone’s a long way from home.
“Where are your bags?” Ken asks, with furrowed brows.
Mookie shakes his head. “We don’t have any bags.”
Void Black Shadow Page 9
