Tyche's Ghosts

by Richard Parry

  “They’re all about the same, Cap,” said Kohl.

  “I’ll probably just have the beer,” said Nate.

  “When I go into a spacer bar, I order a couple beers and a bite,” said Kohl, tugging on his armor’s actuator. The whine transferred over the comm link, setting Grace’s teeth on edge. “Depending on what I’m hungry for, I’ll get the fries, maybe a burger, something like that. But never the chef’s special.”

  Grace frowned. “Kohl?”

  “Gracie.”

  “You need to make some fucking sense,” she suggested.

  “Right,” said Kohl. She caught the glint of his grin from her suit’s lamps. “The chef’s special is all the old shit. Stuff they couldn’t sell yesterday, or the day before, or maybe the week before. If it’s soup? Hell no. Never choose a chef’s special made from seafood, right?”

  There was a pause, a gentle silence filling the airlock. “I’m not sure what this has to do with the Ezeroc and the metal assholes,” said Nate.

  “Supply and demand,” said Kohl. He looked between them, his expression confused. “You don’t get it?”

  “Help me out a little,” said Grace.

  “Right. You only get a chef’s special when there are leftovers. This menu here,” and Kohl gestured to the airlock, as if it was the universe itself, “has high demand. We’re not getting the chef’s special because there ain’t no leftovers.”

  Grace crossed her arms, ship suit rustling against her. “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she said.

  “That would be great,” said Nate. “I’ll admit to a couple points of confusion.”

  “You’re saying there’s no AI here because there aren’t enough to go around,” said Grace.

  “Right,” said Kohl. “It’s why there’s no chef’s special clam chowder on the menu. All the clams got ate yesterday.”

  “I have a question,” said Nate.

  “Shoot, Cap.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that?” said Nate.

  “A good story takes time,” said Kohl.

  “Kohl makes a good point,” said Grace.

  “He does?” said Nate, looking between them, like his rudder had come loose in a storm.

  “He does,” said Grace. “We’re operating with precious little intel, Nate. We’ve seen a space fleet jump into Sol System, destroy our Navy, and screw over Earth.” She paused. “That last is assumed. But let’s take it as read. But what if the space fleet is just ships without crews? What if there are very few AI? What if the reason they want ‘the Engineer’ is because they are dying out?”

  “I haven’t lived that good a life,” said Nate. “We’re not going to be that lucky.”

  “Hell with luck,” said Kohl. “Just look at the menu.”

  Nate looked to Grace like he wanted to sit down somewhere, but it wasn’t that kind of airlock. “Menu. Got it,” he said.

  “It’s promising,” said Grace. “If Kohl’s right, we’re dealing with an enemy who operates under certain constraints. They might have a large fleet, but centrally controlled. If we can disrupt the control…” She paused, tapping a finger against her visor. “I’ll bet the asteroid embedded in this base is one of theirs. Fly it in here with some roaches on board, drop off a collection of roach eggs, and wait for some future instruction.”

  Nate frowned, but nodded with it, like he was processing rather than working up for an argument. “I get you. Which means the roaches here were to tag and bag the Bulwark. A collection of spies would be a handy haul for the enemy.”

  “All the more reason to blow this place sky high,” said Kohl, like he was wondering why they hadn’t done it already.

  “That plays right,” said Grace. “I think what plays better is getting Hope onto the enemy ship, pulling out tech, and seeing where that takes us.”

  “Seems more difficult than just blowing the place,” suggested Kohl.

  “Remember, Kohl, we don’t talk about the easy jobs,” said Grace. “Only the hard ones.”

  “So long as I get to kill roaches, I’ll be good with whatever,” said Kohl.

  Grace keyed the comm link to the Tyche. “Hope?”

  “You’ve got Hope,” said the Engineer.

  “Need a favor,” said Grace.

  “As long as it doesn’t involve going into a facility controlled by evil alien insects, sure.” Hope paused. “Hah.”

  “Hah,” agreed Grace. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Good,” said Hope. “What is it?”

  “We need you to go into a spaceship controlled by evil AI,” said Grace.

  “Um,” said Hope. “How is that different?”

  “It’s totally different,” said Nate. “You’re good with machines, right?”

  “Um…” said Hope. “Like, sometimes. Depends on the machine.”

  Kohl made a noise that sounded like a growl. “All machines, Hope,” he said. “I ain’t seen a machine you can’t beat.”

  Hope’s voice sounded distant for a second. “There’s one,” she said. “One machine I can’t work out.”

  “It’ll come to you,” said Kohl. “Maybe shore leave would help.”

  “Shore leave isn’t killing robots,” said Hope.

  “Different strokes for different folks,” argued Kohl.

  “I figure we need a plan of attack,” said Nate. “Standing around in this airlock is making me edgy. I reckon we send Kohl into the facility proper. Blow the reactor or something similarly destructive. It’s also in his lane and will give him tremendous job satisfaction. Hopefully it’ll cut down some on the whining.”

  “Hey,” said Kohl.

  “While he’s doing that, we put Hope on the evil AI ship, pull out the data crystals, and then get the hell out of here,” said Nate.

  “You want me to blow up a reactor?” said Kohl. “This day’s gonna be great.”

  “It’s difficult to blow up a reactor,” said Hope. “They’re designed with the intent of not exploding.”

  “I’ll work it out,” said Kohl. “It’s what I do.”

  Nate faced Grace. “Who do you want to babysit?”

  She pondered that for a moment. Fighting the AI would be difficult for Nate. His see-the-future trick wasn’t reliable, not by far. Which meant he should face the Ezeroc, with Kohl. “I’ll take the ship.”

  “Awesome,” said Kohl. “You and me, Cap. Down into the pits of hell, right?”

  Nate sighed. “Let’s see if we can get in and out without making too much noise, okay?”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  Grace smiled. “Hope?”

  “You’ve got Hope.”

  “We’ll get El to drop you on the top of the facility. I’ll meet you there.” She looked outside the airlock, checking Pluto’s dark skies. “It feels like we’ve been given a gift. A small window of opportunity. Let’s not waste it.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEN THE AIRLOCK opened before Nate, he expected scorch marks. Dead bodies. Smears of blood, the screams of the dying, that kind of thing.

  Instead, relaxing music played from speakers hidden somewhere in a room with white washed walls that could have passed for the foyer of a high-class hotel. Overstuffed sofas. Paintings on the walls, one of which looked like an honest-to-God Monet. There was a water feature, the trickling noise at odds with the scratching of the Ezeroc on the edges of his mind.

  “This is … unexpected,” said Nate.

  Kohl clanked to a halt beside him. “What the fuck is Chad playing at?”

  Nate had vague recollections of a report detailing ‘quality of life’ expenditure. “I’d guess happy workers are productive workers.”

  “Who puts a fucking fountain on Pluto?” said Kohl. “I call bullshit on quality of life, Cap.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” said Nate. “You know what’s weird?”

  “The music,” said Kohl.

  “Besides that,” said Nate. “The fountain’s still going. Water would have boiled away into vacuum, if
the place depressurized.”

  “If that’s your way of asking me to take off my helmet, the answer’s no with a side of hell no,” said Kohl.

  “Just making conversation,” said Nate. “No need to be so sensitive.”

  Kohl stared at him, eyes hard behind his visor. “Did you call me sensitive?”

  “Might have,” said Nate. “Where do you figure the reactor is?”

  “Down,” said Kohl. “Shit like that is always down. No one has the sense to put a reactor where a man can easily get hold of it.”

  “I wonder why,” said Nate. “We’ll need to be quiet, Kohl.”

  “Silent,” agreed Kohl. “Like the grave.”

  “But more cheerful,” said Nate. “Let’s find the stairs.”

  “First things first,” said Kohl. “Let’s find the armory.”

  • • •

  Creeping along the top level of the Bulwark facility was weird. The first weird thing was, after exiting the very comfortable ‘foyer,’ they encountered an atrium. The glass above showed nothing but hard black, the dark expanse of space around Pluto, which begged the question about why you’d bother with an atrium. Maybe some folks were into stargazing.

  The atrium had multiple exits. Two elevators went down. Nate marked those in his memory for later. Doors studded the atrium, all signposted with bold black lettering. There was a BARRACKS, and next to that the COMMUNICATIONS FACILITY. MESS sat next to RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT, and finally, MILITARY OPERATIONS.

  Kohl stared at the MILITARY OPERATIONS sign. “How you figure this gets special mention?” he said. “Whole place is military operations.”

  “Maybe you can ask Chad later,” said Nate, swiping the door control. It blinked, clanked to green, and opened to reveal an Ezeroc drone. Two meters tall, and if an evil alien insect could look confused, this one sure did. Nate’s blaster cleared his holster before conscious thought cleared his mind, and he fired three times. Blue-white plasma fzzzt-cracked, the first shot blowing a hole through the creature’s torso, the second close to the first, and the third blasting its head off.

  “Nice shootin’,” said Kohl, looking at the smoking remains. “I’m confused on a particular point, though.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” said Kohl. “Are we supposed to surprise ‘em, or be surprising, or what? Like, you said we had to be quiet, Cap, and that didn’t look quiet. Didn’t sound quiet neither.”

  “Place like this, bound to be industrial accidents,” said Nate.

  “How you figure?” said Kohl. “I’ve seen kindergartens with higher safety issues.”

  “Ignoring for the moment how you’ve spent time around kindergartens, I reckon we need to hustle,” said Nate. He keyed his comm. “Grace? We’ve been spotted.” No response. “Well, hell. I guess there’s some kind of signal jammer.”

  “Makes sense,” said Kohl. “It is a super-secret base.”

  “Let’s hustle,” said Nate. He picked up the pace, jogging down the corridor to operations. Everything was clean and tidy. Aside from the shower of Ezeroc he’d left behind them, there wasn’t any obvious signs of struggle. It was like the Bulwark here had all just up and left, rather than been eaten by insects. They passed a door to a command room, chairs empty, holos bright, like everyone had gone on break at the same time. A small room that looked like an auxiliary mess had coffee cups still on the table, food half eaten. The chairs were pushed back from tables like the people had got up at the same time to go to a meeting. None of the chairs had been knocked over, so the meeting was no doubt about budget reports rather than the destruction of the human race.

  “Cap,” said Kohl.

  “Yo.”

  “Where is everyone?” said Kohl. “Like, this place looks deserted, but not in the usual way.”

  “Usual way?”

  “Oh God, we’re gonna die,” said Kohl. “This is more like a shift change.”

  “Shift change,” said Nate, pausing. “Kazuo Gushiken.”

  “Grace’s dad?”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. “What if the Ezeroc came later? What if some of the old Intelligencers came here first?”

  “I reckon Chad’s crew are more than a match for ‘em,” said Kohl.

  “Hmm,” said Nate.

  “That a good hmm or a bad one?”

  “I’m thinking,” said Nate.

  “This gonna take long?”

  Nate glared at Kohl. “Let’s keep moving.” He continued into the facility, finding a sealed door marked ARMORY without too much trouble. “Here.” He palmed the door controls, which clicked to green, but didn’t open. “That’s … unexpected.”

  “I figure it’s welded shut,” said Kohl. “From the inside. That’s what I’d do, if I were running for my life and wanted to keep weapons out of the hands of the enemy.”

  “They’ve had time to get it open,” said Nate.

  “Roaches don’t need weapons,” said Kohl. “Them claws aren’t good for holding things.”

  “Fair point,” said Nate.

  “Stand back,” said Kohl. Nate stepped out of his way, blaster ready, facing back the way they’d come. So far, nothing had followed up on the demise of the Ezeroc they’d found. Which was also weird. Kohl kicked the door, the power assist of his armor making it shudder in its frame. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

  “Kohl,” said Nate. “Could you make a little more noise?”

  “I’ll try,” said Kohl.

  “I wasn’t serious,” said Nate.

  “I was,” said Kohl. He took a few steps back, them lumbered forward. CLAAAANG. The door cracked down the middle, sparks flaring from the control console, a gap appearing in the middle. Kohl gave it a few more kicks, opening a small aperture. “There.”

  Nate looked at the gap. Not big enough for Kohl, but plenty big enough for Nate to shimmy through. He holstered his blaster, then took his sword off, passing it to Kohl. “Hold onto this.”

  “Got it,” said Kohl. He pulled the black blade from the scabbard, giving it a swing. “Nice sword.”

  “Thanks,” said Nate. “My dead half-brother gave it to me, so I could save the universe.”

  “Yeah? I always have trouble with gifts,” said Kohl. “Some people are so thoughtful, though.”

  Nate poked his head through the gap in the door, then wriggled through, careful not to snare his suit against any of the rough edges. Inside the armory, there were two dead people, dressed in Bulwark white. One had a blaster hole through her torso, and the other had a knife through his eye. Guess they didn’t starve, then. Maybe mind control, causing them to kill each other? Nate checked their wrists. No bracelets there, but both had circular burns where bracelets would have been. It suggested the bracelets had been removed after a powerful esper — or an elder Ezeroc Queen — had gone to work. He only knew of three espers that strong, so this wasn’t great news. Either an elder Queen had moved into their ‘hood, or there were a few spare turned-to-eleven espers walking the universe.

  An abandoned plasma welder was tossed aside, but otherwise the room was as Nate would expect. Racks filled with weapons. All the racks were secured and locked, most of the weapons still in place. Nate didn’t have time to do an inventory, but the handful of missing plasma rifles spoke to regular guard rota rather than expelling an invasion.

  “Cap?” Kohl’s voice came over the comm with a faint hiss of static. No doubt as Nate got further from the big man, the signal jammer would have more of an effect. “You good?”

  “I’m good,” said Nate. “I figure we want explosives.”

  “I figure,” agreed Kohl. “I’ll never know why people store explosives in a pressurized habitat, but I’m not going to complain.”

  Nate walked the racks until he found what he was after. A cabinet, wire mesh front, filled with explosive charges. He swiped entry, grabbing a couple of ‘em. They could be remote detonated or timed, allowing flexibility. After a pause, he grabbed a couple more. Kohl would have said something like you can never have too ma
ny explosives and Nate was inclined to agree.

  He sauntered back to the hole to find Kohl missing. “October?” No answer. For pity’s sake. Nate tossed the explosives through, then shrugged his way outside. Kohl was missing. Nate looked back the way he’d come. There was a scrape along the floor, the kind of thing that a fellow in power armor might leave if he was being dragged against his will.

  Nate gathered the explosives, attaching them to his ship suit’s harness. As he was about to set off to find Kohl, a doorway ahead exploded outward in a shower of metal and plasma. A man ran out, then was blown apart by plasma from inside. An Ezeroc followed the man, claws scuttling against the floor, ducking plasma as it bounced off the wall opposite the door. It fled away from Nate, so he fired his own blaster at it, blowing it to pieces.

  There was a rending, grinding squeal as the tip of Nate’s black blade cut through the remains of the doorway. Nate approached at a casual pace. Never run toward or away from people with weapons. Best way to get yourself killed. “Kohl?”

  “Cap?” The big man crunched through the doorway, pale green pieces of Ezeroc innards sliding from his armor. Nate caught up, checking the interior of the room. There were a couple of dead humans and four dead Ezeroc. At least two of the Ezeroc had been cut apart by powerful swipes of something sharp, no doubt Nate’s sword. “Sorry. Got sidetracked.”

  “Did someone kidnap you?” Nate blinked. “The great October Kohl?”

  “Fuckers rushed me,” he said. “Armor mounts locked up. Couldn’t get my plasma cannon loose. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Signal jammer must cut us off if we get too far apart,” said Nate. He pointed at his black sword embedded in the doorframe, Ezeroc slime trickling from the blade. “I’m gonna need that back.”

  “Sure thing, Cap,” said Kohl, tugging the sword free. Nate winced as metal ground on metal. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Nate flicked gore from his blade.

  “Score’s in my favor,” said Kohl. “That’s eight.”

  “No,” said Nate. “Best case, it’s seven. I got the one running away out here.”

  “Still. Beats your two.”

  “It does,” agreed Nate. “What happened in there?”