by Dana Kelly
“That’s one hell of a closed system,” said Orin.
“It’s tragic. I can see why Malmoradan won’t talk about your home world,” said April. “I just want you to know it’s not like that almost anywhere else in the galaxy. Most of the child services directors and caregivers are good people.”
Shona laughed dryly. “Who said the ones on Gladius Prime are bad? They take care of a lot of kids, as best as they’re able. And trust me—you can do all right out there on the streets. There’s lots of communities, and even if it takes a while to find your tribe, the eternal fires of industry can keep a person plenty warm at night.”
“No, screw those guys,” said Torsha. “It’s not supposed to be like that!”
Shona smiled. “That’s basically what Malmoradan said. A little less polite, though. Unfortunately, as long as the wealth stays in orbit, everyone down below will just have to scrape by.”
“That can’t be legal,” said April.
“Probably not,” said Shona. “But the long arm of the law was never quite long enough to brave the starfires of Orion. Leastways, not until Casey and Malmoradan stopped by. Even then, I’m not sure how long the law stuck around.”
“Ça c’est bon, but ya spin a gritty tale,” said Cajun. Casey stood at his side, and their comrades’ faces lit up as they turned to regard them. Cajun set his toolbox on the table as Shona and April embraced them both.
“Malmoradan’s recovering nicely,” said Casey. “Totally rocking the shaved look.”
“He’s not supposed to have any more visitors yet,” said Shona. “Not for another thirty minutes!”
Casey shrugged. “No one was there to tell us no.”
“I seriously doubt it would’ve stopped you, even if there had been,” said April, and she grinned. “It’s so good to see you! Both of you!”
“Are you Cajun?” asked Mike.
“Accordin’ to most,” said Cajun, and they shook hands.
“Thank God!” said Mike. “Please tell me you’re here to—”
“Bring back ya chère? Oui, here I am. Now, let’s have a look see.” He extended his hand, and Mike passed Nimbus his way. “Still intact. That’s a good sign.”
“Thank you so much,” said Mike.
“Don’t thank me yet, ya hear? Still got a lot o’ work to do.” Cajun retrieved a Plexiglas case from his toolbox and carefully placed Nimbus within. He attached fiber optic cable leads to the orb’s surface and plugged a cord into the nearest wall socket. After a moment, nested spheres of encoded data sprang to life in the air above the case. Unhurried, Cajun reached into the holographic haze, using hand gestures to rotate and zoom in on each layer. Scattered snippets of data glowed brightly, stark against a sphere full of dim characters. “That’s the core logic,” he said. “It’s set apart and buried deep, like it’s in a fallout bunker. The gray bits, well that’s the damaged code.”
“Can you repair it?” asked Mike.
“Hard to say.” After what felt like an eternity of navigating the code base, Cajun withdrew and wiped his brow. Eyes wide, he exhaled slowly and stood up straight. “That there’s a fully holographic intelligence. Each unit’s got the data of every other unit, but it’s usin’ a certain proprietary cascadin’ bioelectronical protocol. Ain’t ever seen anythin’ like it.”
Mike swallowed visibly. “So… can you bring him back?”
With an apologetic frown, Cajun answered, “In a way. I could dump the damaged code and reboot him, but I got no garrontee ya’d recognize him after, nor he you. Can’t say what’s left o’ them bioelectronicals either.”
Mike’s face twisted with worry. “So, you’re saying you could fix him, but you’d have to rip out everything that makes him who he is to do it.”
“Afraid so,” said Cajun.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” said Mike.
Cajun shut down the diagnostics machine and returned Nimbus to Mike’s care. “I understand ya reluctance, but most o’ these medical fogs are backed up remotely. No need to worry yaself over a reboot.”
“His most recent backup is eight years old,” said Mike.
Cajun raised a brow. “Oh?”
“One day, he just stopped being compatible with the HealiOS archives,” said Mike. “No one could fix him, and no one knows why.”
“Well, ya saw the code base,” said Cajun. “If ya chère’s not interfacin’ with HealiOS, I reckon it’s ‘cause he went and replaced his original code with a unique language of his own makin’. Ya see?”
“How can we save him?” asked Mike.
Cajun grimaced. “There’s a doctor I know by the name of Hector Liu-Song. He’s a hundred times smarter than me, and he specializes in complex bioelectronicals. But there’s a consideration.”
“What kind of consideration?”
“He lives in a certain spike on a countdown planet known as Arsenal Bay, he do.” Cajun took a deep breath. “And that’s located near the galactic core.”
“The galactic core?” Mike cleared his throat. “Wow. That’s a bit outside our price range. I… I guess we’ll take Nimbus to a HealiOS center when we get back home. Maybe they’ll have better luck this time.”
“Hear me now.” Cajun rested his hand upon Mike’s shoulder. “Ya chère’s outside the framework. HealiOS will tell ya the same as me.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” said Mike.
“Ah, but I do. Got my fog cert at a HealiOS center.” He rotated the toolbox toward Mike and indicated the corporate logo.
Mike swore under his breath. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to take our chances.”
“There’s another option,” said Casey.
“Great,” said Mike. “What is it?”
“I’m very thankful for what Nimbus did,” said Casey. “Some are saying he should receive the George Cross, as it’s decidedly possible we all owe him our lives. In honor of his heroic sacrifice, I’d be willing to provide you transport there and back again. I know some of you are probably thinking this might be a great chance to get your starfaring feet wet, but it could take a year to get all the permits you need to close escrow, and in his current state, no one knows how much time Nimbus has left.”
Torsha glared pointedly at Mike, sternly shaking her head. “No way. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t! Mike I need to go home!” Pressing a surge of tears from her eyes, she ran from the mess hall. Her strength suddenly flagged, and she sank down, curling into herself against the bulkhead.
“I appreciate the offer, but Torsha’s right,” said Mike, and he cast a sad look Shona’s way. “I’m sorry, but we don’t belong out here. Even if there’s no one on Rhyon that can fix him, there’s got to be someone somewhere who knows where we can send Nimbus for repairs.”
Cajun looked concerned. “Ya’d trust ya chère to a cargo crew?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not. I just know we don’t belong out here.” Mike slipped Nimbus back into his jacket pocket and hurried after Torsha.
“I’ll be right back,” said Orin, and he jogged after his friends.
“Well, shit,” said Casey. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“It was kind of you to offer,” said April, and she smiled roguishly. “You know, if I were you, I’d take some personal time on Rhyon after we get there. Mike’s upset right now, but I’m certain he’ll see wisdom and allow Orin to transport Nimbus on his behalf.”
“You’re not just getting my hopes up, right?” asked Casey.
“We don’t even have a top ten list of starships,” said Shona, and she playfully nudged her former captain. “Look, I don’t know if it’ll take a whole year to close escrow, but I doubt Mike’s gonna bet Nimbus’s life on it.”
April nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Well, I do have to hand over Ky and Blacktusk,” said Casey. “That’ll take at least a day.”
“Wait for us, even if it takes longer than that,” said April. “I promise you we’ll be in touch.”
Casey hugged Ap
ril close. “Thank you,” she whispered, and April hugged her back.
They soon said their goodbyes. Cajun and Casey visited briefly with Malmoradan before returning to Casey’s shuttle. They decoupled from the boarding tube and drifted away from the Falcon starship. Casey angled toward Watchtower and hummed to herself as they traveled.
Hours later, an Orbital Guard transport ship arrived and docked with Fox Mendes. Security transferred the prisoners, marching them along the same passageways some of the buccaneers had sacked just days before. Izel watched as the last of the prisoners disappeared beyond the boarding tube, and she smiled.
By the next morning, Fox Mendes arrived in orbit around Rhyon. April, Shona, and Malmoradan joined Mike, Orin, and Torsha aboard one of the Falcon Sunhawks. The docking bay opened wide, and the starship raced through the void, headed for storm clouds turning high above the planet’s surface. Orin kept his hand near Torsha’s back, giving her gravity all the way.
Chapter 17
Orthogonal Vectors
Rain drove down, a muted patter on weathered shade sails. It clattered along the gutters and crashed on the rusted awnings and footpaths of Aurora and Oliver’s residence tower. In the distance, a grimy neon sign read, “Valu-Plus Mart” and “Open 24 Hours.” Just below it, a shiny new sign announced, “Under New Management!”
Orin paused; the rain rushed over the bell of his umbrella. “That’s odd. I wonder what happened to Howell?”
“What’s up?” asked Mike.
Orin pointed at the sign and continued walking, leading his fiends toward a covered footpath. “The Valu-Mart says it’s under new management. That would mean Howell’s not running it anymore.”
“Who’s Howell?” asked Shona. She craned her head as they passed under a gap in the awning, grinning as the rain drenched her thoroughly.
“He used to own the place,” said Orin. “Because my dad was gone for three months at a time, he kind of took me and my sister under his wing. He always had a lot to say about anything, and unless you were quick to get what you came for, he’d talk your ear off.”
“Everyone was grateful when Tammy was working there, because he’d spend most of the day in the back,” said Mike.
Malmoradan chuckled and adjusted his grip on a beach umbrella. “Sounds like half the tavernkeepers on Ocely. He’s not ocelini, is he?”
“I don’t know what race he is,” said Orin. “It never felt right to ask.”
“Howell’s ilioran,” said Mike, and he met Malmoradan’s gaze sidelong. “One of the pygmy houndfolk. He was on the ground for D-Day at Pegasi, so you can imagine the extent of his injuries. You should ask him about it if you get the chance. Since you’re both ex-military, I’m sure he’d welcome the opportunity to exchange war stories.”
Malmoradan whistled quietly. “I might just do that.”
Shona rubbed her arms, spraying water into the air. “Did you want to head over and check if he’s there?”
“No, it’s okay,” said Orin. “We’re already late, and I don’t want to keep the denshies waiting too long.”
“Like that’s even possible,” said Torsha. “Can’t they see the future, or something?”
“That’s just a superstition,” said Mike. “No one can see the future.”
April shook her head. “That’s not entirely true. Powerful precognates can see several likely futures, as I understand it.”
“Likely futures,” said Mike. “Not the future.”
“Are you always so pedantic?” asked April.
Mike laughed. “Not always.”
Torsha shrugged. “I don’t know. I went to a denshi fortuneteller once, and she knew things about me that I’ve never told anyone. Like, ever. And every single one of her predictions came true.”
Mike took a deep breath. “None of that’s real, Torsha.”
“That’s okay if you think that,” said Torsha. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“That’s not the point!”
“All right Mike, tone it down,” said Orin, and he stopped before his parents’ front door. “We’re here.” He knocked, and the residence door glided open.
“Howdy son,” said one of the denshi-tengus, and he tipped his hat. “I see six when I was expectin’ half that. Ya’ll are welcome to come inside, but I’m not sure we got enough space in the sky van for six.”
They entered the apartment, and Orin closed the door. He studied the man and woman standing before him. “Damn, you guys are good,” he muttered. “I can’t even see the flash of silver in the back of your eyes.”
“I suppose a thankful response is in order,” said the female denshi-tengu in her natural voice. Clearing her throat, she spoke in Aurora’s voice. “So… Thanks?”
“Did Martin authorize three more?” asked Oliver’s doppelgänger.
“No,” said Mike, and he made introductions. “Orin joined April’s crew, so he won’t be traveling to Cavern Lake. We were hoping to camp out here for a few days, at least until we can figure out how to fix Nimbus.”
“Of course, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to,” said Aurora’s double. “Please dry yourselves off before sitting on the furniture—especially the couch. There’s plenty of towels in the hall closet. I’ll get some coffee and cocoa started, and whoever wants to warm up in a bath is welcome to.”
Orin whistled quietly. “That’s uncanny.”
“Oh, come here,” said the denshi-tengu, and she drew Orin into a hug.
After a moment, Orin hugged her back.
◆◆◆
They all sat at the table late the following evening, where Aurora’s doppelgänger served a hearty dinner. Outside, the storm raged on, and they all talked for a while as they enjoyed their food. When they had finished, the denshi-tengus excused themselves to the bedroom.
“Mike, I’ve had all day to think about it and the way I see it, you only have three choices,” said Orin. “Either you let me take Nimbus to see Hector, you join us for the trip, or you head off to your family at Cavern Lake, living off the grid for who knows how long. But if that’s what you choose, it’s going to be very tricky for you to find a way to save Nimbus.”
“In time,” said Malmoradan. “Save Nimbus in time, you mean. Emergency power ain’t going to last forever.”
“I realize that.” said Mike, and he spent a moment considering his options. “Orin, I appreciate your offer, and it’s not that I don’t trust you with Nimbus. It’s just that I’d be worried sick for the entire time you were gone.”
“I have another option,” said Torsha. “Maybe you could hire Hector to make a house call.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Orin. “Mike, do you have a way to contact Hector?”
“Cajun gave me his number.”
Torsha brightened. “Awesome! Sounds like Mike and I are going to Cavern Lake. Wherever that is.”
“Not if you want to save Nimbus in time,” said Malmoradan. “If Hector runs his practice on a countdown planet, you’ll need to see him in person. You guy know what those are? Countdown planets?”
“Sure, I’ve heard of them,” said Mike. “They’re terraformed corporate outposts. Usually short term, so the people that live there are counting down the days until their world is uninhabitable again.”
“That’s right,” said Malmoradan. “I’m sure you know there’s plenty of planets out there that ain’t quite big enough to hold a permanent, breathable atmosphere. Some of ‘em you could terraform anyway, but even if it’d take millions of years for the air to bleed off, it will bleed off. For planets like that, federal terraforming ain’t allowed, but private terraforming is.”
“What about Mars?” asked Orin. “It’s small, and it’s got manufactured air. That’s a federally incorporated planet.”
“They terraformed Mars during the earliest days of Earth’s interplanetary expansion, so it’s one of the rare exceptions, but it’s a great example of what I’m getting at. Do you know how they keep the oxygen flowing on Mars?”
asked Malmoradan.
“The planet’s core is made of ice,” said Torsha. “They melt it into steam and make air. Everyone knows that.”
Malmoradan cleared his throat. “The Martian core’s molten iron actually, but even if that was true, same problem—eventually, you run out of ice. No, what they do is run a flotilla of comet cutters. It takes a toll on the comets, but it keeps a steady supply of ice in the processors.”
“What happens when they run out of comets?” asked Torsha.
“Colonial’s rolling out a fleet of exosphere skimmers that are supposed to close that particular loop,” said Malmoradan. “They’re still working out a few things, but I’m sure they’ll figure it out before we run out of comets.”
Torsha shrugged. “I don’t see what all this has to do with countdown planets.”
“They hire comet cutters to supply them, I’d assume,” said Mike.
“Right again,” said Malmoradan. “After a corporation gets the go-ahead from Colonial, cutters drop ice all over the surface of the planet that’s marked for terraforming. Wherever those spacebergs land, that’s where they build their processing towers—right on top of ‘em. After the air’s thick enough, they convert the towers into living centers. The locals call ‘em ‘spikes,’ and they’re completely dependent on outside resupply. As soon as everything’s up and running, they set up operations, and that’s usually strip-mining. Sometimes it’s hazardous manufacturing. You can guess which one Taranis Arms is running.”
“Taranis Arms?” asked Orin. “I thought Cajun said it was owned by Arsenal Bay.”
“They own Arsenal Bay, which leads me to our next consideration,” said Malmoradan. “Since most countdown planets are rich in rare minerals or ores—or both—it means their prospecting profiles are closely guarded company secrets, which means Taranis ain’t in the business of making their outpost info public. And they definitely ain’t in the business of making it easy for their citizens to travel off-world. That means you’d have to send someone to pick up Hector, but even if you somehow managed to track down Arsenal Bay on a starmap, it’s a private holding. There’s no municipal nightmare gates close by. You’d need explicit authorization from Taranis to even use their nightmare gate.”
