“I thought Mars being the farthest NEU planet from the sun made its orbit a border by definition.” Adda’s subvocalized search with her comp found several maps that used that border, in case anyone wanted a source cited.
“Mars’s orbit marks the end of NEU territory, and there’s supposedly some legal wiggle room in there, but the planet is NEU.” Iridian had been stationed at a Martian NEU military base for at least a month during the war, which was probably why she was so adamant about this point. “The secessionists had their shot and they couldn’t hold the major habs, because the Martians backed us. Mars is NEU. Period.”
“The retired resistance fighters here will disagree.” Tritheist glanced around as he spoke and Adda did too, although she doubted she’d recognize a retired resistance fighter on sight unless what they overheard Iridian saying made them angry.
“It’s not a matter of their ignorant-ass opinion,” Iridian snapped. “Mars has members of parliament. It’s as NEU as Venus or Earth’s Moon. More than, really. It’s been populated longer than Venus. Ceres and Vesta might be ‘border zones,’ but Mars is on the right fucking side of the border.”
Adda composed a message to Sloane: “Captain, the surveillance team has performed admirably. The professor presenting our case to the University of Mars was more talkative than I expected. Dr. Björn will take vis ship out within the next few days if ve keeps to vis usual stress behavior patterns, and we’ll pick ver up then as scheduled.” And ideally, the false charges raised against Dr. Björn, along with any benefits available in the Oxia contract, would be sufficiently persuasive. Adda wasn’t sure she could stomach the alternative.
Most of their gear drifted in net bags tied to the tables, ready if they had to leave quickly. Chi was still watching over Jiménez in the hotel, and Sloane’s pilot slept in his ship. Given the current planetary positions, it’d take about forty-five minutes for her message to reach the captain and another forty-five for a response to arrive in her comp. While she waited for the captain’s reply, she reviewed her messages to make sure she hadn’t missed one from Ogir about Dr. Björn leaving the Deimos campus. She’d read everything Ogir sent so far.
“Back to the gods-damned waiting, then.” Tritheist slapped the paypad on the tabletop to cover the coffee and the crumbless egg sandwich he’d consumed while they talked. He pushed out of their booth and used handholds on the ends of other tables to propel himself out of the packed restaurant.
She and Adda relinquished their tables, strapped on their packs, and glided (in Adda’s case, slowly half-tumbled) into one of the station’s primary dockside thoroughfares. A cluster of tethered jetpacks floated near the diner’s door. The supposedly clean-engined jetpacks were popular among those who couldn’t pay for or tolerate the public transportation line that paralleled the cargo track on the ceiling far above.
Or at least, Adda chose to call it “above,” because projected arrows every few meters pointed the opposite direction and had a flat arrow under them, labeled with text that didn’t adjust to the reader’s position. It communicated directionality, whether by design or not.
By the time they got back to the hotel, Chi was watching for them from her perch at a high-top table in the lobby bar. “Tritheist came to sit in with that miserable graymane. Gods, I hope he puts the guy out an airlock.”
Iridian grinned. “Tritheist or Jiménez?”
“Either. Both. But Jiménez . . . I’m telling you, Nassir, he needs more help than anybody’s likely to commit to, himself included.”
Iridian and Chi left together, to look at what the local dockside markets were selling. That gave Adda peace and quiet in which to research Blaer Björn’s skills, interests, and ship. One could never have too much information.
When Captain Sloane’s reply to her message arrived, she transmitted it over the op channel: “Deal with the professor. Nobody crosses my crew.”
Tritheist chuckled in a thoroughly unpleasant way in his own reply, delivered to Adda in person through her doorway. “There’s work for Jiménez after all.”
Adda would rather not give Jiménez anybody to work on, but Tritheist had much more experience with intimidation than she did. “Um. That’s one option for dealing with Wakefield. Anything . . . else?”
“We should give Jiménez something to do,” Tritheist said. “I hear him banging on things half the damned night. Over and over. I think it’s his head. And hell, if the captain wants us to give Wakefield a scare, Jiménez is as scary as any of us.”
Is it me, or is Jiménez much more trouble than his potential contribution to the mission? Adda asked Iridian.
The mission’s not over, Iridian subvocalized, then added aloud over comp comms, “This babysitting business is reconstituted shit.” Adda left the channel open so she could hear Tritheist’s side of the conversation too.
Tritheist sighed. “The captain always avoids this part. Look, I’ll take him to Wakefield’s place tonight. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything that’ll make the newsfeeds, and Wakefield will never talk about Sloane or Oxia again.”
“And if proceedings conclude and Dr. Björn launches vis ship tonight?” asked Adda.
“Let the Coin catch ver and hold ver until we get back.”
You won’t really tell it to do that, will you? Iridian asked Adda. We got lucky with the Sabina’s lab. Let’s not keep rolling the dice.
Adda sighed. I’m not sure I could tell it to do anything. The device Ogir’s team planted on Dr. Björn’s ship should stop it outside stationspace so we can dock. I’m hoping that the Coin will just . . . observe, like it’s done so far.
After a pause, Iridian said, I don’t like it. You didn’t even ask it to come with us.
But what Adda had accomplished with AegiSKADA’s help demonstrated that the Coin could be a valuable resource to have around. It was designed to stop ships. In fact, it was licensed for it. As Tritheist had so recently reminded them, their current objective was to meet Oxia’s demands and buy Sloane time to get out of the crew contract with minimal casualties. An awakened intelligence had the potential to make that a much simpler process, if Adda found a way to coordinate with it.
* * *
Two hours later, a message pinged on the operation channel. “Ogir here. Proceedings concluded. Björn’s fired. Clearing personal items out of vis office now.” Adda closed the latest reports on AegiSKADA’s Vestan activities. The rest of the team barely had time to announce their intention to return to their ship before the next message arrived. “Ogir here. Ve pitched most of vis stuff in the recycler and is now cabbing it to the shuttle launch.”
Meet you at the Mayhem, Iridian subvocalized to Adda, sounding especially breathy, like she was running. With Iridian’s help, Adda had finally perfected the mic calibration. Whatever else Iridian was thinking, that message came through loud and clear.
Adda bagged the few possessions she’d brought, carefully hefted Iridian’s perpetually packed bag, and hauled all of it toward the Mayhem’s dock, fighting her momentum in the barely there grav the whole way. “Ogir, tell us the shuttle destination when you get it,” she said over the operation channel. She activated her location on her comp so that the others could track her. One of those clean-engine jetpacks would’ve been convenient, as it turned out, despite the smell.
“Ogir here. Target’s leaving Deimos. It’ll lose power on your signal.”
“Who’s here?” Adda asked the pilot as she tumbled past him and into the ship.
The pilot managed to bow neatly as she passed, despite the lack of gravity. “Hi, hello to you too.” He sounded like he was resignedly proving some point Adda had missed, probably about an expectation to select and exchange greetings before beginning a conversation. “You’re the first. First besides me, of course.”
Adda checked the Coin’s position on her comp. It’d left its dock, and instead of following Dr. Björn’s shuttle, it was moving away from Mars on the current reliable route to Saturn. That was one of Dr. Björn’s f
avorite routes out of Martian space, according to vis flight records.
How did the Coin choose that route? Adda wondered, without asking Iridian. AegiSKADA could track more individual ships throughout the system than the Coin could, and it may have had access to Mangala Station dock management and security while planting evidence supporting Dr. Björn’s corruption charges, or helping Adda monitor the Coin. But the safeguards Adda put in place would’ve forced AegiSKADA to ask her before it interfaced with anything outside crew headquarters.
Casey was on Vesta too, and it could’ve ignored those safeguards. So either the Coin was processing more information than any tug she’d ever heard of, or Casey had been talking to AegiSKADA and relaying its information to the Coin. If she couldn’t keep Casey out of her own systems, she’d never be able to dictate which large-scale pseudo-organic environments it could affect. When she got back to Vesta, she’d shut AegiSKADA down. She wouldn’t even have to have that awful conversation with Iridian. After this operation, she could make time to acquire a new zombie intelligence, one specifically developed for analysis and project management.
The Coin’s already moving to where it expects Dr. Björn to go, Adda said to Iridian. How far away are you?
“Give us about ten minutes,” Iridian said over the operation channel. “Don’t lose that AI.”
CHAPTER 12
HCMS targeted confirmations sent via Patchwork relay between Mangala Station, Mars and Rheasilvia Station, 4 Vesta: 304,002
“What the hell is the Coin doing now?” Iridian shouted at Adda over the music blasting out of the Mayhem’s bridge. Apparently hard rock with ticking string instrument melodies was part of the pilot’s process as he wove in and out of traffic on the reliable route to Saturn. There was usually somebody on the route, but three ships launching at once, in addition to the Mayhem, the Coin, and Blaer Björn’s little skiff, was a crowd. Anything that helped the pilot concentrate in those conditions was fine with her.
The pilot was maneuvering to keep up with the Coin, which was cruising near enough to a massive passenger liner that the tug would obliterate the population equivalent of a dense city block if it drifted a few meters sunward. The Mayhem kept a respectful distance from both vessels and put a docking cargo ship between it and Björn.
The Coin was stalking Björn’s skiff. Iridian shivered despite the healthy temp in the Mayhem’s cabin.
“It’s giving us a chance to move while it gets in position,” Adda said. “On our current path, we appear to be trying to get out of a rude pilot’s way. Nobody would blame us, and Dr. Björn will be too busy watching it to watch us.”
“Ve’ll also notice when the Coin breaks all vis engines stopping vis ship,” said Iridian.
“We’ll find out in about four minutes,” Adda said. “Ogir, power down the skiff’s engines then.”
“Ogir here. Acknowledged.”
“You may have the captain fooled, but I know you told it to do this,” grumbled Tritheist over the op channel.
Adda’s decision to follow Björn when the opportunity presented itself, just like she’d been saying it would, had resulted in Tritheist being left on Mangala Station with a depressed interrogator, four hotel rooms, and two docking fees to pay for. Iridian couldn’t help laughing.
“Fuck you, Nassir,” Tritheist said. If Chi hadn’t been strapped in, she’d have laughed herself out of her seat.
* * *
This far from the sun, venturing beyond the light of a station or large ship made the stars leap out of the cold and the black, distant and absolute and brilliant. The skiff, the Coin, and the Mayhem plunged into the cold and the black beyond Mangala Station’s docking guides, and the stars shone before them. The Coin had gone dark, drifting on a trajectory it’d set for itself at least ten minutes ago to intercept the skiff. They all were in nothing again. Nothing and starlight and their little islands of atmo.
Four-meter-long harbor drones would be flashing visual, radio, and AI-to-AI “stop” signals at the Coin. That was all they could do, since they were too underpowered to make a dent in its velocity. Ogir’s much smaller surveillance drone couldn’t match the skiff’s speed, showing the retreating vessels in the window projected on the ceiling over the main cabin crew couches. Iridian had armored up and strapped into the couch next to Adda, with Chi across from her in a lightly armored suit she’d picked up since the Sabina raid. The cam attached to the skiff’s hull was reporting in just fine.
Iridian slapped her helmet’s visor down. The heads-up display didn’t highlight any live mics in the Mayhem’s cabin feeding the op channel, so she raised the visor and said, “I’m kind of wishing we hadn’t ditched Tritheist.”
“Yeah?” Chi asked. “Why?”
“The surveillance guy said Björn knows kung fu or something. How the hell am I supposed to subdue ver if I spend the whole time trying to hang onto my shield? Martial artists are grabby.”
“I have a plan,” Adda said. “It should work fine without Tritheist.”
“Most things do,” said Iridian, which set Chi laughing. “What’s my part?”
“Can you destabilize a round of ammunition for Tritheist’s . . . launcher . . . thing?” Adda avoided weapons research whenever she could.
“Oh, damn, that sounds like fun,” Chi said in a tone that made it sound like a good way to get bad burns.
Iridian must’ve been making her own “Well, shit” face. She’d have to look up some amateurs’ modding instructions. If she figured out all the steps they forgot to mention, she’d get it done. And if she made a mistake, she’d get covered in chemical irritant.
Grav gradually shifted, sending loose pieces of clutter toward a new down against the bridge wall. The crew couches in the main cabin rotated to match, which meant the passengers had over a meter-long drop under them if they needed to use the head. Adda was still looking at her. “What now?” Iridian asked.
“Dr. Björn flew a ship like this during the war.” The fact that Adda left out which side Björn fought on meant that if Iridian looked it up, she’d find that ve flew for the secessionists. “And vis first reaction when Dr. Wakefield presented the case against ver was to go straight to the hearing after him.”
“So instead of panicking when the Coin stops vis ship, ve might try to kick our asses. Got it.” Since Iridian’s alternatives were shooting a scientist, knocking vis valuable brain around with her shield, or risking Chi getting near enough to chemically knock ver out and take all the medical risks that came with that, this seemed like the right call. Iridian braced while the grav stabilized to more or less the orientation they’d docked in, then freed herself from her harness. “Chi, put my face back on if I burn it off with that crap Tritheist shoots at people, yeah?”
“Putting it back on is above my paygrade.” Chi grinned wider than ever thanks to the g’s they were pulling. “I’ll keep whatever’s left stuck on and clean, though.”
“That’ll do.”
Iridian had to stop comparing her new working conditions to the college labs. It just frustrated her, envisioning vises and safety glass and experts around for advice while she bent over 37-millimeter chemical ordinance held still with one armored foot, alone in a head and strapped to the toilet. If the ship rolled, Gavran would have to mop synthcapsin-infused fluid off everything within three meters. At least the light opposite the toilet was bright enough, and the pilot’s soundtrack for the venture had improved to rock Iridian halfway liked.
She made it all the way through turning one ammo canister into an improvised grenade, and started on a second because, hells, she had no idea if the first one would work. Partway through the second one, her brain started psyching itself out. This stuff is designed to bypass armor filters. Gods, it’ll hurt. It’d burn her hands, since she’d taken off her gloves to manipulate her tools more precisely. If it burned her too badly to hold the packet of neutralizing agent, she’d have a real problem.
I think you can do it, Adda whispered in her ear. Iridian mu
st’ve subvocalized her dread about getting the stuff on her hands.
Iridian smiled. I don’t want to leave it half done. Somebody might try to shoot it, and I’d feel like shit about that, even if it were Tritheist.
She really hoped that this’d be better than having Jiménez work the astronomer over. They wouldn’t dip Björn in this stuff unless ve defended verself against vis imminent kidnapping. Once they had the scientist under control they could administer the neutralizing agent, but it would suck to be ver for a few minutes.
A thin stream of the canister’s contents dribbled over Iridian’s forefinger and lit a line of chemical fire in its wake. She set the canister in its case alongside the four unaltered ones and whipped her arm away as soon as she could do it without moving them, swearing and shaking her hand like that’d help at all.
“Ha . . . Ah . . . Okay.” Talking distracted her from the pain. “Finish it, Nassir; waiting around won’t make it hurt less. Pick the gods-damned thing up and finish it.” After another few seconds of procrastinating, because her hand hurt, damn it all, she took the canister out of its case and went back to work.
Half an hour later, Gavran got on the Mayhem’s internal comms to announce, “Your tug friend is locking onto the target ship. The target ship’s caught in its hullhooks.”
“Was that before or after Ogir stopped it?” Iridian had just finished modding the last canister and carefully extricated them, and herself, from the head. The main cabin’s natural lighting soothed her wired nerves a little.
“After,” said Adda. “Can we get close enough to connect passthroughs?”
The pilot paused, then said, “Once it’s still, sure. It’ll have to be still before I do.”
Adda was sinking into the meditative state she sometimes reached without being in a workspace, lightly drugged and tracking all factors affecting her plan. Iridian smiled into those sharp brown eyes. “Ready when you are.”
“We’ll give ver a chance to come in and talk,” Adda said. “Ideally, ve’ll open vis passthrough, but the Coin or I can probably do it ourselves. You’ll be waiting in ours. Then the safest thing would be to throw in one of those canisters.”
Mutiny at Vesta Page 18
