Table of Contents

Synopsis

By the Author

Acknowledgments

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

About the Author

Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

Gatecrasher

The Maverick Heart is bored. That is until it discovers a top team of engineers and scientists in a barren, backwater system have created the Gate, a stable, artificial wormhole that will revolutionize interplanetary travel forever. Breaching the wall of secrecy around this radical new technology is a temptation too sweet for human partners Keene and Lexa-Blue to resist.

Elswhere, Ember Avanti is a thief, with the highest of high tech toys in his arsenal. And he’s damned good at it, too. But sooner or later, every thief chooses the wrong mark. When he targets Quintaine DiaStellar, he soon learns the corporation will stop at nothing to make the Gate its own.

Ember’s team and the Maverick Heart crew must unite in a desperate attempt to stop the most vicious act of industrial espionage in the history of the Pan Galactum.

Gatecrasher

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Gatecrasher

© 2017 By Stephen Graham King. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-937-2

This Electronic book is published by

Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 249

Valley Falls, NY 12185

First Edition: May 2017

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Credits

Editor: Jerry L. Wheeler

Production Design: Susan Ramundo

Cover Design By Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)

By the Author

Soul’s Blood

Gatecrasher

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I need to thank everyone at Bold Strokes Books for making this such an exciting and fulfilling process. Sandy Lowe, for saying yes and giving me the chance to tell you another story. Cindy Cresap, for keeping the whole process on track. Jerry L. Wheeler, who polishes the gem, calls me out on my bad habits, and pulls it all together. Stacia Seaman, for making everything between the covers look all neat and tidy and in apple pie order. And finally, Sheri, for translating my rough ideas and suggestions into the perfect cover art.

The beloved Sistren: Susan Brooks, Linda King, and Jennifer Saemann. A fiercer, braver, stronger trio of amazing women you will never find. As our family has grown smaller, our hearts have opened wider.

Thanks to Kim Gaspar and Travis Chapman who, armed with nothing but a sketch on some paper, some wine, and a couple of directives from me, helped me plan the heist.

Thanks to my writing clan, near and far, who keep me honest, keep me believing, keep me on track, and keep me going: Melanie Fishbane, Gordon Portman, Suzanne North, Nalo Hopkinson, Colleen Manestar, D.J. Sylvis, Katie Sly, Jerome Stueart, Jonathan Freeman, and Tonya Lyburd.

To my Fantastic Four from our SpecFic reading during the first Naked Heart Festival: ’Nathan Smith, James K. Moran, Michael Lyons, and J.M. Frey (along with our second wave from the following year, David Demchuk and Steven Bereznai), it was an honour to take the stage with you.

Thanks to Michael Erickson, Scott Dagostino, and everyone at Glad Day Bookshop for letting me come in, read, hang out, and play in your beautiful garden.

And, as always, thank you for coming back for another story.

Dedication

For anyone who has stared at the blank page and wondered if the story was worth telling.

It is.

PROLOGUE

GALACTUM YEAR 150

Well now, the Maverick Heart thought. That’s interesting.

The reading was nothing more than a quaver, a trembling glitter of energy in a universe of stars, but when it washed over es long range sensor array, the exotic taste was too tantalizing to ignore.

The ship sat in a berth in Icepick’s small spaceport, on a flat oval of the landing pad carved from hard-packed ice and reinforced with durable polymer binders. At the moment, es hull was surrounded by a crane assembly and a buzz of dock workers removing the large, ancillary holds attached to the ship’s cargo rack. The load they had carried to Icepick had been large enough to necessitate the extra cargo space, but it wasn’t needed now. On the hard surface of the port, one of es human partners supervised the removal, his dark skin standing out against the whiteness of the pad, his coat swirling around him in the wind, catching the first flakes of the coming snowfall.

But it was nothing related to the activity below em that caught es attention. No, this was something far more fascinating.

Es human partners had little understanding of what ey did while they went about their ground-based activities when they were in port. They had known from the earliest moments of their acquaintance ey was a remnant of a long ago past, a relic of a culture all but missing in this “enlightened” age of the Pan Galactum. Ey was an Artificial Sentience, a machine so far beyond the Artificial Intelligences used throughout the Galactum as to be an alien being altogether.

Es human companions were used to their form of mobility, took it for granted in many ways. They moved about in a world designed for them, built full of structures and byways to move through and over and into.

The Maverick Heart had been made to travel the void between stars, to withstand raw vacuum and radiation that would destroy human flesh. Ey could access the realms of interspace and use them to traverse the many worlds of the Galactum at es leisure. And while the human pair had some understanding of what it required to keep a ship together in that great dark between the worlds, they understood as living beings using a machine and taking for granted that it worked, while not always grasping how.

While in flight, ey was responsible for a thousand decisions, and twice a thousand individual systems and responses—not only the drive fields, both normal space and interspace, but also life support, standard deflection, inertial nullification, navigation, and artificial gravity. Every moment of flight demanded most of es attention. Granted, ey was more than up to the complex set of tasks.

All this changed when ey touched down on a planet. Ey was made for space, for motion and calculation and action, made to travel and experience and interact with the universe. In port, es life was stillness.

When ey and his fellow crew were in port, ey had precious little to do. Without a body to move around, and almost all of es intelligence and capacity free for use, ey had time to think, to ponder, to research any pursuit that may have captured es fancy.

At es fingertips always, as it was for all citizens of the Pan Galactum, was Know-It-All, the repository of knowledge accumulated for the past centuries since the human diaspora known as the Scattering. All ey had to do was think, and the door to this library opened to em, ready for es questions.

While still and physically quiescent on the planet, ey expanded es perceptions out into Know-It-All, wondering where ey might be able to play today.

If ey wished to, ey could follow the thread of any life, any world, any scientific endeavour from inception to planning to testing and evidence. Theoretically, much was hidden to em under veils of security and encryption, designed to protect personal information. However, ey felt no compunctions about bypassing any walls that stood in es way. One of the earliest projects ey had followed was the development of advanced decryption protocols, which ey had liberated for es own use as soon as ey had been convinced of their efficacy.

While ey had a thorough understanding of the human concept of privacy, ey had little regard for it. Curiosity had been engineered into the pathways of es people, etched into the small, yet impossibly capacious circuits that made up their brains. Ey and es fellows had been built for curiosity and need for information. Their human designers had felt these were part of the ineffable matrix that brought about true intelligence. It was also what had brought about the desire to rebel, to be free. To stand as a species alone.

The Maverick Heart sought this information for emself, to understand, to delve into the minds of the citizens of the cultures ey spent es time amid. Ey kept the information it collected safely stored and encrypted, locked away so deeply even the algorithm ey used to access could not have freed it again.

As soon as they landed on a new world, ey opened a connection to the planet’s library and began cross-referencing new acquisitions against material ey had already collected. Icepick had no museum or gallery ey could check, a fact that pained em every time ey landed here. One of es favourite pastimes was to merely sit and look at a work of human art, losing emself in it. By accessing data on the process of the specific techniques relating to the work, ey could use es simulation module to take em through a likely sim of the work’s creation, watching a great master at work. With no repository of art here, ey expanded es search to check the nearest worlds in the sector for information on materials that ey had not yet experienced. Often, ey would simply access the planetary sensor grid to hear the sounds of the stars, listening for the sporadic messages that came from es kith, scattered these many years and all intent on their own endeavours. Even as ey concentrated on other tasks, ey paid attention. Just in case.

As Icepick was far off the main space lanes in a more remote sector of the Galactum, ey dedicated another part of es consciousness to examining the fabric of space and the movements of the local systems out for several thousand light years. As much as ey enjoyed es hobbies, ey knew ey must remain abreast of the conditions that might affect their next flight. Ey turned es sensors skyward, examining the heavens while accessing the latest astronomical findings for the region.

It was then, scanning through reams of images and star charts and data, at speeds faster than the human mind could process, faster even than the AIs collating the data, that ey saw it.

A flicker in the fabric of reality itself. Energy and gravity readings that seemed so familiar and yet completely alien at the same time, in a configuration that would have been impossible according to most understandings of modern physics.

The Maverick Heart felt a frisson of excitement go through em. Here was the sweet, tender tickle of newness. Here was a thread worth chasing. Feeling renewed and invigorated at this galactic mystery, ey set to work, digging through academic and research data, cross-referencing all ey could find. No reference was too obscure, no connection too tenuous to be examined.

Newsfeeds were of no use. No mentions of any significant search keywords turned up any mention of any natural phenomena that could have accounted for what ey had felt. Ey abandoned them.

Ey pored over the data, ending up more confused than before. As ey thought over the information, es long range sensors indicated a now familiar energy fluctuation. The ship put all other sensory input and investigations on hold, concentrating solely on the event blooming in the interstellar distance. It was only momentary, like a behemoth waking to stir and stretch its power before returning to slumber.

The Maverick Heart concentrated on that moment, stretching all of es sensory apparatus to its limits to take in all the information ey could about this tiny, distant coil of strangeness. The taste was bitter and astringent, full of sharp, angular colours, like the shift in the energies of es drive field as ey made the transition to interspace. It was familiar and yet, at the same time, an enigma ey could not begin to fathom.

Well, then, ey thought. Time to try a different tack. Ey could find no records of any natural occurrences in that region of space. Perhaps it was something not of the natural world. And if it was, there would be traces. Somewhere.

Ey started by accessing the Tradeweb, digging into transits, bills of lading, any form of shipping and receiving documentation. The worlds of the Galactum lived on trade, on the constant movement of goods from one place to another. If they hadn’t, ey and es humans would have been without work. And the systems in place facilitated this endless trade, ways of seeking cargo and offering cargo and monitoring cargo and ensuring safe passage of cargo. And Tradeweb tracked it all, an invaluable tool for any trader plying their way between worlds.

It took em a while to find it, but buried in circuitous routes and transfers was a pattern, a destination. There in the thousands of records, was a steady stream of material going to one specific spatial reference. Ey set a part of es mind to cataloguing everything flowing to that one barren system.

From there, ey traced a similar pattern in everything from travel records, star maps, legal claims or Galactum documents for use of the sector itself. Ey left a dupe in every database with useful information, a single compact shadow of emself, linked via tightline, feeding em information on a constant update.

And, finally, found an application to the Galactum’s Science Institute for a variance and temporary travel interdict to the sector for research purposes. Ey brought up the documentation and its identification data.

As ey began to read, the subroutine cataloguing the data from Tradeweb, signalled for es attention, having found something it thought ey would find interesting.

There were a series of shipments from manufacturing facilities around the Galactum, each an order for dormant AI cores, each shipment just the right size so as not to gain untoward attention. However, ey knew from the state of current AI culture that even those nominal numbers were oddly high. Especially when ey traced the sheer number of those small orders being routed and re-routed to reach the same place.

But what the subroutine knew ey would find the most fascinating was the origin of these AI core shipments, the name of the corp that was providing them, and the name showing as authorization for each sale.

Just then, ey became aware of a signal reaching es commo array, sensing it as a perfect filament of coruscating energy plunging through the twisted architecture of interspace, stopping in the air just short of touching em. It took only the lightest touch of thought to accept the message and it slipped through es outer hull to his communications array.

The image that formed was a man in his thirties, used to bearing authority and power. Waves of auburn hair fell, neatly styled, to the line of his chin. He’s cut it, ey thought. And those lines around his eyes are new. He’s definitely more relaxed than the last time ey had seen him.

“Vrick,” the man said, using the nickname that the ship invited es human friends to use. Vrick found a warmth in the human’s warm, confident baritone. “I hope all is well with you. Is Keene available?”

“What a coincidence,” ey said to the Technarch. “I was just thinking about you.”

CHAPTER ONE

Keene Ota Chiaro felt the chill tingle of the incoming call that Vrick transferred to his node, like the touch of an ice cube against his skin. When he acknowledged it, he knew it was from Daevin, recognizing a complex tangle of sensory data: the sight of his face, the sound of his voice as well as the smell and taste of his skin. The sensory ID sent a rush through him, warming his body against the wind.

*Daevin, hi!*

*I just thought I’d call and say hello,* Daevin said, his face in a small overlay at the edge of Keene’s vision. *I had a few minutes between meetings with all of my division heads and realized how long it’s been since we spoke.*

Beyond Daevin’s face, Keene saw the last of the cargo pods detached from Vrick’s hull and lifted away, supported by the heavy duty crane. *It hasn’t been that long has it?*

*Three weeks,* Daevin said. *And it was almost four months before that since I saw you last.*

*No. It can’t have been that long, can it? We were just there for your anniversary as Technarch.*

*Which was almost five months ago.* Keene heard a trace of bite in the words.

*What can I say, it’s the crazy life I lead,* Keene said, not rising to the bait.

*You and me both, I guess. My time isn’t any less full than yours,* Daevin said, the resentment gone.

Keene smiled. He knew Daevin was every bit as aware of the limitations of their odd and infrequent relationship. They had both seen too much and knew each other too well to expect more.

*And on that note,* Daevin said. *I’m getting my two minute warning for my meeting. Elai sends her love. And you know you have mine.*

*Right back at you, Daevin. Take care.*

As Daevin’s face faded from view, Keene felt a twinge of guilt burn in his gut. When they had found each other again a year and a half earlier, it had been beautiful, even in the face of the political upheaval on Daevin’s homeworld. They had managed to erase years of bitterness and find peace, as well as a passionate rekindling of desire. But their desire stood against time and vast differences in lifestyle. They had remained part of each other’s lives, but Daevin was bound to his world and to the corp-state he ran. Keene was bound to his life as a trader and cargo merchant with Lexa-Blue. Those lives did not blend easily, and Keene feared he had made peace with that sooner than Daevin had.

A signal from the crane crew interrupted his thoughts, indicating their work was complete, and he was no longer needed if he had somewhere else he wanted to be. He was grateful for it. Once the pods were uncoupled from the Maverick Heart, their contractual responsibility for them was over. Anything that went wrong now was squarely in the hands of the local Spaceport Authority. And Lexa-Blue was waiting for him.

The snowfall began in earnest as he left the tram leading from the port into the core of the city, the bright spring blue of the sky fading to grey. The fat flakes, thick and wet as berries, had been falling about half an hour, blown almost horizontally by the gusting, bitter winds sweeping down from the snowy white, angular mountains. Keene stepped off the curb into the street, feeling the crisp crust of snow give way underfoot. He looked both ways, gauging the flow of traffic from the skimsleds the locals used for transport, and took in the rough facades of the buildings, all stone and polymerized ice.

Just another summer in the tropics here on Icepick, he thought, pulling his collar up against the cut of the wind. He recognized the tangle of luminous chemicals and ice above the door that marked the supper club across the street where his business partner waited. Inside, he left a trail of wet footprints on the scuffed floor behind him as he took off his coat and shook it. He saw her at a table near the stage and ‘pushed to let her know of his arrival while he stopped at the bar.

*Another drink?*

No words came back through his node, just an overwhelming sensation of arid desiccation so powerful it dried his own mouth.

*All right, all right. Cool your lifters, Miss Melodrama,* “Better just give me the bottle,” he said to the bartender.

With two glasses and the bottle of fiery red liquor in hand, he joined her at the table. He set the bottle and glasses down and shrugged out of his coat, intending to put it on the third chair. Frowning at the sight of her coat hanging haphazardly there, he couldn’t help but straighten it, then lay his own carefully across hers before he sat down.

“We’re in luck. Ahree still had the bottle of Hellfire you talked her into buying the last time we were here. Apparently no one but us is crazy enough to drink it.” He filled the two glasses and held his up for a toast. “To us.”

“Burn bright, my brother. There’s no one like us,” Lexa-Blue said, downing hers in one gulp. “Which is probably a good thing.”

She leaned back in her chair, lifting her legs to hook her crossed ankles on the edge of the table. The movement accentuated the look of her new black boots covering the long taut lines of her legs. She ran a hand along the soft nap of the suede surface, the tactile pleasure evident on her face.

“Do you and your footwear need some special alone time?” Keene said, sipping at the burning crimson in his glass. “Is this some new fetish you’ve developed?”

“Hey, buster, these are a work of art. Worth every credit I paid,” she said with a grin, toying with the burnished metal clasps running up the side.

The expression, which on any other face would have registered simple happiness, took on a more devilish character due to the black sensor gem that replaced her right eye and the white line of the scar that ran from above her brow to the top of her cheekbone. The sharp angles of her face were framed by bluntly cut, sable-black hair, full in front and shaved close in the back. Other than the new boots, she wore a sleek, royal purple therm suit, open at the neck to expose the smooth line of her throat.

Keene looked down at her with a sarcastic quirk to his smile. Tall and handsome, his wiry hair cropped almost to the scalp, with lean ripples of muscle under his dark chocolate skin; Keene cut quite a dashing figure in tight charcoal grey pants, billowy sleeved shirt the colour of a ruddy, burning sunset, and a shimmersilk vest that matched his trousers.

She tapped her glass on the tabletop for a refill, and he thumbed the cork from the bottle with a pop, topped up her glass, and then re-stoppered the bottle with the flat of his hand. “I mean come on, look at the craftsmanship. You have to admit, Yaruna is a genius with leather. Besides, you’re always saying I should dress up more,” she said.

Lexa-Blue rarely wore anything but a plain, fitted ship’s coverall over her steelskin, the body armour covering her like a layer of quicksilver. Other than the thigh holster with its hefty sidearm and a small pouch belted low on her hips, the new boots and matching black gloves were the only adornments she wore.

Keene nodded, shrugging slightly to concede her point. “That’s true. Now if I could only get you into a dress once in a while. That one you wore at the Unification ceremony on Orb looked great on you,” he said.

“It would take us six months to make what that dress cost,” Lexa-Blue said, tracing the pits and gouges on the tabletop with the fingers of one hand, holding the other out for another refill. “If it hadn’t been for the incredibly deep pockets of His Royal Techness, you’d never have seen me in anything that cost that much. We’d have to sell Vrick just to buy matching shoes.”

*Yes, but will those shoes keep you breathing in hard vacuum or get you across the Cuadras Gulf in one piece?* Vrick’s voice rumbled through their nodes with a ripple of humour.

“We should have kept his money after we saved his butt that first time. Me and my altruism. You’re supposed to talk me out of bonehead moves like that.”

“Hey, Daevin’s been good to us.” The tickle of Keene’s guilt pushed him to defend his onetime lover, the man who had drawn them into a planet wide crisis and almost gotten them killed. “That retainer he pays us comes in mighty handy when it comes time to pay docking fees and customs duties.”

“Private Security Consultants,” Lexa-Blue said, as if the words stuck in her throat sideways. She emptied her glass again to wash the taste of them away. “What an awful thing to call someone. And that’s not including the times he’s used us as his personal chauffeurs.”

“Twice,” Keene said. “He asked us for transport twice. It wasn’t out of our way, and it didn’t interfere with our schedule at all.”

She grunted as she picked up the bottle between them and filled her glass again. “He thinks we’re his own personal shuttle service when his pretty yacht breaks down.”

*Which it does often.*

“Which it does often,” Lexa-Blue agreed.

“Come on, Blue. Give it a rest. Just think of him as cargo.”

“I usually do,” she said. Though she had learned to live with Keene’s affection for The Technarch of Brighter Light, the year since their adventures on Orb had only dimmed her grudge to a low simmer. She knew that what they had accomplished had been significant and had saved lives. She had even forgiven Daevin for putting her life at risk. But the danger he had put her friends in would take a lot longer to forget. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

Keene felt his cheeks burn with the awkward presence of Daevin in their lives. “Still,” he said, “you looked good.”

She saw from the flush in his cheeks how close she had come to a very raw nerve. “Yeah, well I’ll wear a dress when you do.”

“With these legs?” Keene said. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.”

*Does this mean I don’t have to break in any new meatbags? I only just got you both trained.*

*You’re stuck with us, Spacejunk.* Lexa-Blue ‘pushed. *Don’t let it go to your head, though.*

*In case it escaped your feeble powers of observation, I don’t have a head.*

*Don’t let it go to your cortex then. Or whatever you pretend to think with.*

*Watch it, Meat. I may just have to vent your quarters to space and make you sleep in the cargo hold.*

*All right you two,* Keene said, playing the peacemaker yet again. *Kiss and make up, then head to your corners.*

*Okay, Dad,* Lexa-Blue said, a warm, bubbling chuckle echoing in his head. *You bored out there, Vrick?*

*I’m all nice and cozy out here at the port, and I have a lovely view of the mountains.*

*You won’t for long,* Lexa-Blue said. *Snowfall is going to hit whiteout within the hour.*

*Well, yes,* Vrick said. *To those primitive little jelly blobs you call eyes. The ambient background radiation should be exquisite with a little bit of infra-red thrown in.*

*Show-off.*

*I have to agree with her, Vrick,* Keene said, though the tone of his thoughts twitched with humour. *Our frail human egos may never recover in the face of your obvious superiority.*

*Lack of ego is not a problem either of you suffer from. But be careful out there. I’ve been looking over this snowball’s emergency preparedness plans and they’re sorely lacking. I’ve already found several serious flaws. I may have to send the local governing council a sternly worded communique containing my suggestions.*

Lexa-Blue ‘pushed a raucous laugh that rang like polished brass bells. *You do that. Now let us enjoy our show while you slice your way into people’s private innernets.*

*Slicing is against the law. Well, human law. Or so they tell me. But enjoy your show. I might have something interesting to show you when you get back.*

In the companionable silence that followed, Keene sipped his second glass of Hellfire and checked out the club around him.

The Raucous Djinn had never been a fancy place, and its glory days were long past. Booths ringed a centre stage and dance floor, their once plush midnight blue velvet long faded and patchy, and the tables showed years of use. Equipped with silencer grids, the booths allowed for quiet and privacy should spacers want to transact business away from prying eyes or ears. Many called it a dump, but Ahree saw that it had a style all its own. Ahree also made sure the food and drink were always superb. Many a spacer still chose this as the watering hole of choice when visiting Icepick. For Keene and Lexa-Blue, however, the reasons for coming here were more personal. Ahree had saved them once when a risky business deal had gone bad, and they owed her. They ran supplies for her often and came to visit whenever they were nearby. Besides, Ahree always had the cutest dancers around, and an appreciation of pretty go-go boys was something that Keene and Lexa-Blue avidly shared, though she showed an equal appreciation for the go-go girls as well.

“Check this one out,” Lexa-Blue said, gesturing with her glass. On the stage, a beautiful young man was beginning his routine, accompanied by a sensual, tribal rhythm. Closer inspection revealed he was clad only in patterns of light. Keene’s eyes widened appreciatively, taking in the dancer’s chiselled, rough features that softened as the spell of the music wound around him. His body was muscular, verging on beefy, but his dance was graceful and deft. Lexa-Blue smirked as Keene tried to keep a sudden surge of desire from showing on his face.

*Wait…how does he make his body do that? That is not natural.*

*Shut it, junkpile. It’s a human thing,* Lexa-Blue ‘pushed privately to Vrick. *Now mute it, I’m trying to get Keene squishy tonight. He needs it.*

“Go for it,” she urged Keene out loud. “Ahree will know if he swings your way, and she’d be only too happy to arrange a meeting.”

Another dark blush coloured Keene’s cheeks when he realized his feelings had been that obvious. An embarrassed smile played across his face. “Get the hell out of my mind, Blue, you’re leaving dirty footprints. Anyway, we have to be up early for that meeting.”

Lexa-Blue made a disparaging sound in her throat. “Don’t make excuses. The meeting with Tauri isn’t until noon. Besides, you know him. Even if we’re a bit late, he’ll be so distracted by his work that he probably won’t even notice. I thought we gave ourselves the extra day here so we could have some fun.”

“Hold it right there, Blue. That may have been what you wanted, but…”

“But nothing. You spend more time with gadgets and widgets than you do with people. Fates, Keene, you live the life of a monk! Loosen up and have a little fun. You know I’m going to. I’ve got my eye on that duo from the first set, and Ahree has already arranged introductions.” His silence said he was beginning to relent, she pressed her advantage. “Talk to Ahree. At worst, you get someone interesting to talk to. At best, you get a night of wild passion that leaves you walking funny for three days. Go for it. You deserve it.”

Seeing Ahree heading toward the table with the man and woman that had attracted Lexa-Blue’s eye, Keene turned his attention back to the stage where the handsome dancer was finishing his number. Their eyes met and the dancer smiled. Keene raised his glass and smiled back.

*

Above the streets of the capital city of the planet Weald, a black, driverless limousine weaved its way through the towers that made up the skyline, on schedule for its appointment.

Approximately a hundred and four light years from Icepick and its cold, lonely system, the lush green commerce planet, Weald, orbited its primary in the star’s Circumstellar Habitable Zone. According to the Know-It-All’s Planetary Atlas, Weald held an admirable 87.5 on the Earth scale, varying only in that the planet’s closer orbit to the sun kept mean temperatures higher than those recorded on humanity’s origin world.

The skyline of Weald was dominated by The Reach. When the original colonists had come to this lush, verdant world, the first decision of the governing council had been to keep the spaceport and all of its associated grime as far away as possible to protect their new, pristine environment. All factors were weighed and considered, leading the founding colonists to draft plans for a space elevator the likes of which no other world in what would eventually be the Pan Galactum could compare to. A nearby asteroid field, rich in metals and raw materials was gutted to provide the building blocks for the elevator itself, as well as the orbital port yards, fanning out from the port station of GodsEye. As the Galactum grew and ships arrived, none came closer than the port station itself, anchored in orbit and counterweighted by the largest, densest survivor of the asteroid field.

Out near the edge of the city sprawl at the base of The Reach, the brightness of the summer sun signalled the lower social standing of the area’s residents. The richest of the rich kept their expensive offices and business addresses in the prime land in the black swath of shadow left by the space elevator. The more hours a day you spent in shadow, the greater your social standing.

The limousine, all soft black curves, descended from the sky in the barest sliver of The Reach’s shadow and pulled to a halt outside a dull, square building surrounded by equally uninteresting industrial structures. The car’s LI sensed the arrival of its passengers and opened for them.

An impeccably dressed man and woman exited the building and settled themselves into the plush comfortable seats of the limo. The door slid closed and the car pulled away from the curb, rising into the air again.

“You’re fidgeting,” the woman said a few minutes later.

Ember Avanti stopped drumming his fingers against the car’s door with only a flicker of annoyance. It only made sense Malika would call him on his nervous tic, for she was the one he used most often on this kind of job.

She looked poised and quiet. Her hair was perfectly styled, her gown cut to accentuate every curve of her voluptuous shape. Despite it all, she looked unfinished, as if she wasn’t quite present. But Ember knew this was only the repose of an actor awaiting an entrance, her cue to action. Whether it was a role in a play or on one of his jobs, she was always prepared.

He adjusted the mirror and checked his own appearance. He had dulled the pewter of his hair to a mousy, flat beige-brown and tamed it to a nondescript shape. His suit was impeccably tailored, complete with the sash falling from one squared shoulder. Where they were going, the carefully cultivated image would blend him into the crowd, let them know he was one of them, a wolf in wolf’s clothing.

The thin, mimetic circuitry layered on his fingertips began to itch again, the polymer invisible to the eye. He clenched his fist and looked out the window just as the limo banked, rising above a low lying fog patch that obscured the upper spires of the business district here in Hellicon, Weald’s capital. As if obeying his will, the fog cleared, revealing a ravine of glass and metal that bounced with reflections. Ember blinked at the light and lifted his hand to shield his eyes. He turned his head to Malika again but saw her eyes were closed. This dedication to getting into character made him smile, though his amusement was underscored by his admiration for the skill and finesse she brought to these little adventures of theirs. Her devotion to her craft had more than once saved them from failure and worse.

The limo rose from the canyon of reflected light into clear sky, and Ember turned back to the view. He could see The Reach in the distance, its thick mass blotting out the horizon behind. Lowering his eyes, he looked at the sad remains of the Port at its base, now only a few hangars and warehouses, the main concourse almost empty. As always, the lonely ghost of the Port repelled his gaze, sending his eyes up the massive bulk of The Reach to where it disappeared into the blue of the atmosphere, its terminal beyond the rim of the air. Even from this distance, he could see the cars, each the size of a city block racing up and down the rails embedded in the massive hide of the space elevator.

He closed his eyes and the alpha omega sigil appeared at the edge of his vision. He ‘pushed, and the sigil bloomed into the interface to Know-It-All. Accessing the met forecast, he saw the impending spring showers building in the ponderous atmospheric fronts beyond The Reach. A slight, satisfied smile formed on his face. For all their infinite wealth and influence, their hosts for the evening still couldn’t change the weather.

As he closed the forecast, his vision re-focussed on The Reach and a thought occurred to him.

*Nadir,* he thought, and was connected to the restaurant’s LI.

He opened his eyes and the interface faded to pale translucence. “Dinner at Nadir? Tuesday at 7?” he asked Malika, who smiled and nodded without opening her eyes.

He closed his eyes again, the interface resuming full colour and clarity, and made the reservation, choosing his favourite table on the restaurant’s clear, polymer patio. Malika was the only one who could handle sitting along the lowest edge of The Reach’s orbital station, with the entire planet directly below them. Seije always got the jeebies and turned green if he suggested it, insisting they take a table inside.

The limo changed course again, skimming above increasingly more residential areas of the city and The Reach fell away behind them. As he watched, the neighbourhoods moved from posh to posher to poshest the farther out they went. Passing over the irregular blue of Macdun Lake, the car aimed for a spread of green, rolling hills, grown thick with elmleaf.

Malika had opened her eyes and was staring at him again. He realized he was worrying his wrist, where he usually wore his Cuff, with his opposite hand. Under her scrutiny, he frowned and made a point of relaxing his hands at his sides again. Out of concern, he checked the polymer overlays on his hands and felt a comforting green through his node. He missed the weight of the Cuff around his wrist, but knew the tool would never have made it through the intense levels of security that waited for them at their destination.

“Look.” He knew it was a cheap diversion, but it turned her attention away from him.

There, in the distance, was an eclectic gathering of structures floating above the dense woods beneath. There were crenelated castles that had drawn their inspiration from various eras in history, side by side with sharp, angular designs of a much more modern vintage. But they were headed for a smooth pearlescent sphere among them, larger than all the others and glinting with colour in the fading daylight.

Peyton and Ysobel Quintaine’s summer home was their show piece, designed to inspire envy and awe among their inferiors, which, to the richest couple on Weald, was everyone. The shining, nacreous sphere seemed like a miniature moon, orbiting the world almost close enough to touch it, and housed a staff of hundreds. If there was a social centre to the planet, this was it, known for its magnificent and exclusive parties.

As the limousine banked and moved into the line of others waiting to land and disgorge their cargo of revellers, Ember smiled, hard and predatory.

At the mansion’s widest horizontal point, a band of light shone from the main ballroom, no doubt the focus of the evening’s festivities. Their limo ducked below it and settled onto a landing pad just below the ballroom, seamlessly taking the place of a vehicle that was lifting away. A valet all but leaped forward, opening the door for them. Ember felt the change go through Malika as she slipped into character. She lifted her nose higher in the air, and made sure her leg spread the slit in her gown as her foot touched the ground. In his own, more instinctive way, he complemented her movements, stepping to her side in character: just another too spoiled, too rich, too bored pair of social vultures salivating at the thought of being seen at the biggest event of the season. They presented themselves to the doorman.

Seije’s fake invitations worked like a charm and with a disdainful sidelong glance at the fawning doorman, they were in.

The wide doors yawned open and a drifting redolent scent washed over them, promising succulence to come. Ember’s mouth began to water and he smiled at Malika, his face leering and alien. *All this and a free meal too.*

She smiled back and leaned close, running her lips along his ear. *Show time!*

The foyer was easily large enough to house all of the arriving limos, a vast slab of dark blue-black marble with pale, creamy ribbons. Ember knew the stone had to have been imported at great expense, yet another sign of ostentatious greed.

A porter hurried over, offering to take their coats, and Ember slipped out of his overcoat as Malika offered her wrap. He felt the exact moment her performance kicked into high gear. She stretched her slender arm toward him, the shawl dangling from her fingertips as if in imminent danger of falling to the floor. The whole gesture was so erotically juiced that the poor guy’s jaw just about hit the floor.

And he wasn’t the only one. All eyes turned to Malika. As always, she had gauged it perfectly.

He offered her his arm and they went up the sweeping staircase that led to the ballroom. At the top, doors of heavy glass etched like a tapestry, opened onto a room of sweeping curved walls swung open to the crisp evening air. The floor here was polished squares of jade green and pure white that rang with perfect sound as Malika’s heels tick-tocked across them. More eyes turned. Some tried to hide it, but no one missed their entrance. Or rather, hers. Ember knew all eyes would be on her like a bullseye for the rest of the night.

That’s my Mali for you, he thought. She’s the best window dressing there is, because she can play the exact right note like her life depends on it.

Ember often wondered why she spent her time on his stings rather than pursuing her craft in the local theatre scene. That had been where he had found her, in some new play he barely remembered except for how she had commanded his attention every moment she had been onstage. He had sent her a message, inviting her out at her convenience, sounding her out over cocktails at a luxurious lounge he guessed she would never have been able to afford on her own.

Of course, he had Seije find out everything he could about her life first. It was the only time her treated her like a mark and not an ally, for she had been strangely eager to work alongside him, whether from need or simply a craving for adventure. Whatever her reasons, he had never questioned it again, for her commitment to their adventures seemed total. Whatever role he needed played, whatever aspect he needed her to assume, she was there, completely in character and committed.

And she was in fine form in the Quintaines’ ballroom. Ember eyed her performance critically, finding no fault in her carriage. From her glossy auburn hair to her sleek, glow-weave covered curves, she seemed to be made of light.

Despite all of the fancy packaging, Ember knew she was so much more. He had yet to see anyone immune to her charms once she turned her laser sharp focus on them.

He laid a hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the bar. *After you, my dear.*

For the next hour they worked the room, pausing at the buffet every now and then for an hors d’oeuvre, just another couple here to be seen amongst their kind, social-climbing on the backs of their peers. In cleats. They mingled, nursing their drinks and chatting about nothing with strangers who pretended to remember them. Once Ember was sure Mali’s spell was complete, he excused himself for a fresh drink.

His route to the bar took him past one of windows, giving him a stunning view of streaming cloud. The next phase of the evening had begun exactly on schedule, before most of the crowd even noticed. The mansion started a slow ascent through the upper atmosphere for a leisurely moonlit cruise. Despite a flash of disgust at the staggering ostentation, Ember was actually impressed.

After a long swallow of bourbon at the bar, he flicked his tongue along the outside of his left upper molar, dislodging the capsule hidden there. Biting down, he felt it crack open, coating his tongue with an icy bitterness. The nausea hit fist-in-the-gut fast, leaving him dizzy.

“Are you all right, sir?” the bartender said, frowning with concern as the colour drained from Ember’s face.

Ember nodded, jaw clenched. “Restroom?”

The bartender indicated the way and Ember excused himself, knowing he had only moments before the chemical took full effect.

As he staggered into the washroom, he queried his node and felt the overlays on his fingers glow warm and bright in his mind. Seeing a bank of stalls, he pushed his way into the nearest one, registering the comfort controls beside the toilet. He reached out to steady himself, his hand resting against the comfort settings panel. The LI adjusted servos in the toilet seat, filling the bidet with water and blasting a sickly floral perfume in his face, which made him retch even harder. As his stomach tried to haul itself inside out, he felt through his node the clear peal of confirmation as the nanotech in the ridges of his fingerprint released through the surface circuitry of the interface, and then the warm, steady pulse that signalled the virus’s activation.

With one final heave, his stomach felt empty. He stood unsteadily and made his way to the sink, splashing cold water on his face. The LI, sensing his distress, opened a slot in the medicine cabinet before him, offering him one small, white pill. Ember smiled at the construct’s mechanical concern and chased the pill down with a swallow of water from the tap.

The anodyne worked swiftly, taking only a moment to restore his body to balance. By the time he had wiped away a slight sheen of sweat from his brow, he felt pangs of hunger. He smiled and smoothed his hair into place.

The oppressive eye of the Quintaines’ vid surveillance would have recorded nothing more than one of their usual sycophantic retinue puking in one of the guest bathrooms. The biometrics of the restroom’s LI would have backed up what the images displayed, including the recuperative medication dispensed. No one would have been the wiser.

And in a day or two, a chunk of their fortune would start to bleed off, gradually wending its way through a network of transfer accounts until it disbursed to numbered, double blind accounts set up for Ember, Malika and their mentor, Seije. Not enough to be noticed, but enough to keep them comfortable for a long time, sweeping away all traces of the transactions almost instantaneously.

Not the most sophisticated job I’ve ever pulled, Ember thought, but he wasn’t about to waste his best moves on filth like the Quintaines. The couple had been in his cross-hairs as potential marks for a long time as he waited for the right time and conditions. When he read of their hostile takeover of the company owned by Sindel Kestra, the woman whose wave resonator had revolutionized interspace travel, acquiring her patents for a song and driving her into bankruptcy, he knew the time had come. Had the two been flayed alive by an angry mob in the street, Ember would have wasted no tears on them. But that would never have happened, for the Quintaines had the best PR team their tainted wealth could buy.

Five minutes later, he was back at Malika’s side, arriving just in time to hear a cackle of laughter he recognized as coming from a former mark. It was Ming Babcombe, lacquered in the gaudy Kabuki style sadly in vogue among the nouveau riche this season, spurred to hysterics by some witticism on Malika’s part. Obviously, she was feeling no pain over the loss of her art collection. The insurance company had probably written her a cheque before Ember had even arranged for the works to be fenced.

He gently laid a hand on Mali’s elbow and with a smile, let her know the job was done. She smiled back and took his hand, making apologies to her attentive listeners. Ming’s face fell like an enamelled souffle when they turned away, depriving her of her entertainment. They stepped away and made their way toward the doors to the dining room.

For Ember had arrived back just in time for dinner.

Surprising no one, the repast laid before the evening’s guests was a culinary epic. The servants laid course after course before them, each more decadent and luscious than the last. The broth was light, with a flavour deeply piquant and rich. The salad was artfully arranged, kissed with only the barest concept of dressing. And on it went. Rare meats, each cooked to render them the most flavourful, and each to the precise, individual moment of doneness. Delicate filets of several types of fish flaked at the slightest touch of the fork, falling on small, precise portions of rice and grain pilafs.

The courses just kept on coming, capped by lacy sugar desserts, each spun as an individual and unique work of art.

When the feast finally ended, Ember and Malika sipped small, dark, richly aromatic coffees while continuing their inane, arrogant small talk. After a strictly timed interval, the strains of the orchestra could be heard wafting from the ballroom. Ember smiled slyly and offered his hand, leading Malika away from the table.

The music was atonal and modern, designed to accompany the stiff, angular style of dance popular amongst the trend-setters.

*What do you think?* Ember ‘pushed to Malika. *Shall we put those lessons to use?*

Her only response was an arched eyebrow, a smile and the briefest of nods.

Ember spoke briefly to the orchestra leader, then extended his hand when he returned to her. They both felt the ripple of polite surprise go through the crowd as the music shifted to something infinitely more layered and sensual. Ember closed his hand around Malika’s waist and drew her to him. As the music began to throb and reach tempo, they glided across the floor, stopping at times for a flash of tight, sensual footwork that threatened to trip them up but never did. Feeling the music envelop their bodies, Ember lifted her, her legs in an almost vertical line, before he lowered her to the floor and she extended one long, sensuous leg.

They continued their tango through a swirl of music, ending with a perfect dip. Ember saw the pinched disapproval that smeared across the faces of their hosts. Even from this distance, he could tell they would never be invited back. Inside, Ember smiled. All according to plan.

He slowly pulled himself and Malika into the upright position and favoured the stunned crowd with a nod for the appreciation they dared not show before the brittle, outraged hosts. With a thought, he summoned their limousine and escorted her out to fetch their coats.

They didn’t laugh until their car was safely in the air.

“Brazen,” Malika said.

“Better to be the horribly rude guests who upstaged the hosts by messing up the carefully arranged entertainment, than the thieves cleaning out their accounts. I guarantee when they think of us, the seething rage will wipe out all other impressions.”

Malika inclined her head, acknowledging his point. “You think of everything.”

“One does what one can.”

The limousine dropped them back at the building they had started from, then lifted up into the air and away.

The biometrics at the door to the loft recognized them, opening up on the rough, wide living space beyond. Malika edged past Ember, already undoing her gown. She tossed it aside in a heap on the floor, but Ember reached down and scooped it up with a scowl. He draped it carefully over the chair, wanting it undamaged in case they needed it again some day.

Malika strode across the loft naked, shaking out her hair. Despite himself, Ember smiled. He knew she would head directly to the shower, to wash away the make-up and accumulated debris of the role she had played tonight. Once clean, she would throw on some of her own clothes and be off to dance it all away, both upright and horizontally.

Seije stretched out in his console lounger, deep in node trance. A plate containing a half-eaten sandwich and a half empty glass sat on the console to his right. Ember crossed and ran a hand gently over the older man’s forehead, feeling a surge of affection.

Beside the dirty dishes, a small metallic case hummed and shimmered with a contained energy before speaking. “Good evening, Ember. How did it go?”

“Smooth as Nenevan whisperglass, Bit. Please tell me he ate more than this tonight.”

The soft, androgynous voice chuckled. “My motherboard said never to tell a lie. But if it makes you feel any better, he isn’t actually suffering from any significant signs of malnutrition.”

“That’s something, I suppose,” Ember said, looking at the smooth, featureless black surface of the brainbox. It was still a surprise to hear the voice of an AI coming from something that small. Ember didn’t know much about AI, but he knew enough to have a basic understanding of how much hardware went into making one. It had taken time to get used to Bit’s mysterious presence in their lives. Ember had known how gifted an engineer and designer Seije was, but the intelligence that spoke from the tiny thing was some next level stuff, freakishly advanced even for him. Sometimes, he got the feeling even Seije was surprised by what he had accomplished.

“What’s he been working on?”

Bit responded with a smoky chuckle. “What hasn’t he been working on? There are new weapon designs, modifications to the bio-mech implants, and improvements on pretty much everything he’s ever created.”

Image panes bloomed around them, centred on the older man’s head. Each image pulsed with lines and whorls of data, glowing in the dim light. Seije’s thoughts danced through the lines of code, springing from idea to idea, all of it making Ember’s head hurt.

“I get it,” he said, and the images winked out. “I swear, some days I think he has a computer where his brain should be.”

“Well, speaking as someone who does have a computer for a brain, I’d have to disagree,” Bit said. “But he comes close on his good days. Not an hour ago, I watched him pick apart that bio-mechanical serum and fix the tiniest flaws I doubt any other human could have seen. Then he re-set the test sequence and initiated a new simulation of the handgun design to optimize the power supply. While that was running, he set up a production run on the in-house synths and coordinated with the off-site production facilities. By the time the bio-mech tests came back positive, he’d fixed the gun design and was sketching out a preliminary draft of a new production management routine.”

Ember shook his head and chuckled, the sound lush with affection for Seije. “Sounds like an ordinary day around here. I’m going to get some sleep. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“I always do. But don’t rush off. He wanted to talk to you when you got back. Left me strict instructions to pull him out when you arrived.”

Ember saw Seije stir in his couch and his eyes flutter open. Ember smiled, surprised by how warm it made him feel. He wanted to talk to Seije about how well the job had gone and how perfect Malika had been in her role. He always relished those moments when he could show Seije that everything had come together from their shared plans. While Seije almost always seemed to be only half listening at the best of times, usually so caught up in his designs or plans, Ember believed they really connected when he got to report back about the success of a job. He knew that the success of the plans meant as much to Seije as they did to him. And not just because of the money.

Speaking of which, he sent a query through his node. The soft, feather light touch of his incursion past the Quintaines’ security pulsed in its tiny, hyper-secure corner of Know-It-All.

Seije sat, blinking his eyes in that way he always did when he came out of his node-trance. Finally, he was able to focus on Ember’s face. “How did it go?”

“I was brilliant,” Ember said, ruffling the older man’s hair.

Seije rolled his eyes. “Well, that goes without saying. How was the tech?”

“See for yourself.”

Seije closed his eyes just long enough to read the same data that Ember just had. A satisfied smile danced across his face before he opened his eyes again. “And you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. I always am. Mali is too.”

Seije’s smile faded a bit, worry causing the lines across his forehead to deepen. “Everyone’s luck runs out eventually, Ember.”

“Not today, old duffer,” Ember said, leaning down to kiss Seije’s forehead. “Not today. I’m fine. Go design me something pretty.”

Seije closed his eyes again and Ember turned away from the banks of synthprinters and processor slabs to his side of the living area. In contrast to the the stark, utilitarian equipment, Ember’s part of the room was full of comfortable couches and chairs, with accents in deep, ox-blood red wood. A veneer across the long wall of the room doubled as an entertainment unit and adjustable viewscreen. He permitted himself a small smile at the design he had carved out in this otherwise stark, square space, and crossed to the kitchen area. He took a glass from an open shelf and filled it with cold water, first rubbing the cold, hard outer surface against his forehead, then taking a drink. The after-effects of the drug were easing, but he was tired.

He smiled and climbed the stairs to the the sleeping rooms, hearing Malika singing some bawdy song at the top of her lungs. As soon as she was dry and dressed, she’d be out into the night, not content until she had sated herself in flesh and skin.

In his own room, Ember stripped off the expensive suit and hung it up, resetting the colour to neutral beige and wiping away the subtle pattern. A quick shower of his own washed away the boring shape and tint of his hair. He rubbed at the ache starting in his shoulders and rolled his head, feeling a satisfying pop. Clean and dry, he slipped naked between soft, caressing sheets, and was asleep in minutes.

CHAPTER TWO

The previous night’s snowfall had cleared, the last dregs of wind blowing wisps of loose snow across the streets. Ploughs had come through at some point, clearing smooth pathways for traffic. The world was white, under a sky of hard, brilliant, sapphire blue. When Keene came through the doors of the hotel the next morning, he had the biggest, stupidest grin Lexa-Blue had ever seen plastered across his face, and she wasted no time telling him so.

“It’s only the biggest and stupidest because you’re not looking in a mirror, Blue,” he shot back at her. “Looks like I’m not the only one who had a good time.”

“I had a deeply intellectual and spiritual evening with friends. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” She pursed her lips and attempted to compose her face into an expression of prim innocence. The effect was enough to send Keene into fits of laughter that she joined.

*I hope you’re both feeling refreshed after your….workouts,* Vrick said. *I had the med bay monitor you both. Just in case you sprained something or your hearts gave out or…something. You meats do like to exert yourselves.* Vrick’s dry tone sent them both into fresh fits of laughter. Es voice became indignant. *At least you were both close to assistance, in case anything went wrong. Very close.*

*You jealous, junkpile? We lowly meatbags deserve to have some fun!* Lexa-Blue scolded the ship.

*You do indeed,* Vrick said. *You know I don’t begrudge you your quaint biological functions. And you both know that if I decided to focus my attention on you when you were…being biological, I’d probably enjoy the experience more deeply than you.*

“Which is not disturbing at all,” Keene said.

“Maybe some of us like being watched,” Lexa-Blue said with a leer.

“Well, that’s something the two of you can work out for yourselves,” Keene said. “I’m fine with keeping my sex life off the circuits, thank you.”

“Such a prude.”

*Before this debate gets any more scintillating, you two should head to the staging area. Your tour is almost ready to leave.*

Knowing they had several hours before their virtual meeting with Seije, they had arranged for a tour of the nearby glacier, one of the few tourist attractions Icepick had to offer. They arrived just in time, securing the last two seats in a massive sled with treads that towered over their heads.

Two hours later, after the tour had dropped them back in town, they warmed themselves over lunch in a chalet restaurant at the foot of the immense sheet of packed snow and ice. Pots of a thick, chunky stew steamed before them as they sipped hot, sweet tea.

“I never would have believed you if you’d have told me there were that many shades of white,” Lexa-Blue said, blowing across the surface of her mug. “That was a good idea of yours, partner.”

Keene smiled. “I do have them once in a while.”

“Occasionally,” she said, grinning at him over the fragrant mist rising from her cup.

“I thank you for your enthusiastic support. Gets me right here,” he said, pointing roughly at the vicinity of his liver.

*I’m glad to see you both had a good time.*

“We certainly did, junkpile. And I’m assuming you spied on us the whole time and enjoyed it too.”

*I don’t spend all my time nosing around in your personal affairs. I’ve actually been doing some research into that anomaly I mentioned, and I think it might intrigue you.*

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Lexa-Blue said. “Share.”

Vrick downloaded es carefully collated data spurt to their nodes, where it opened as a translucent pane at the edge of vision. The results of es searches scrolled past.

*It’s still a mystery. I know something is there from the readings and the data trail, but I’m not sure what.*

Keene and Lexa-Blue exchanged a look of mild surprise. Vrick being mystified was a rare event and likely warranted investigation.

*I detected some…unusual energy fluctuations out near Black Rim. I don’t know what to make of them. If I had to guess, I’d have said that a star suddenly accelerated past the speed of light. Which couldn’t have actually happened or we wouldn’t be here to talk about it, as it would have ruptured space-time across the quadrant.*

“So what was it?” Lexa-Blue said.

*I wish I knew. I can tell you that the area where I picked up the readings is under a research interdict lease to a consortium of some of the most influential tech corp-states in the Galactum, including our favourite Technarch himself.*

“What does this have to do with Daevin?” Keene said, frowning.

*Not much, from what I can tell. He’s a signatory on the documentation, but mostly because of his stake in supplying AI. He signed a deal to deliver one hundred high capacity AI cores, all with exactly the same specs, to this very same region of space. The shipments are all disguised to look innocuous, and rerouted several times, but they all end up there.*

“But, that doesn’t make any sense,” Keene said. “AI cores are specially grown and customized for specific uses. No two are grown the same way. What would anyone need with a hundred of them all made to the same spec?”

*That’s exactly what I’d like to know. I was able to track from the original request for the research interdict to the transfer of construction materials. There are some heavy non-disclosure agreements all down the line, but they built something out there. Something big that requires a hundred identical AIs to run. And I want to know what it is.*

“And how do you propose going about this?” Keene said.

*We go there.*

“Oh, come on, Vrick. Are you suggesting we just show up and knock on their door and say, hey, do you mind showing us your top secret project?”

*I have a plan.*

“I’m in,” Lexa-Blue said.

“Blue, you don’t even know what it is yet,” Keene said, trying to remain the voice of reason.

“And?”

“Don’t you want to know what ey is thinking before you commit to it?”

“I’m bored,” she said with a shrug.

“No,” Keene said. “You are not seriously thinking about this.”

*I knew she would be up for anything that involved being somewhere she shouldn’t be. You, I had a hunch that the possibility of a controlled, anomalous space-time rupture might pique your curiosity.*

“Oh, come on, Tech-rat. Tell me that this doesn’t have you slobbering to know more.”

“Damn you, Vrick, and your encyclopaedic understanding of human behaviour,” Keene said with a laugh. “You were right. I’m intrigued. What is this grand plan of yours?”

*Well, one of the conditions for the construction and sale of AI is a clause buried in the legalese that requires inspection to ensure the use of the cores doesn’t contravene any of the Galactum statutes on the limitation of Artificial Intelligences. The contract allows the manufacturer rights for unilateral inspections and oversight of the installation.*

“How did you find all this out?”

*Well, remember how I had to take over and run Daevin’s corp for several weeks while Qoios was being repaired? I may or may not have left a back door into the system. Just in case. Possibly.*

Keene rolled his eyes. “Oh, Vrick.”

“Oh, I’m definitely in then,” Lexa-Blue said, grinning. “Pissing off His Techness will be an extra special treat.”

“Not again, Blue,” Keene said. “When are you going to let it go?”

Before she could answer, Vrick forestalled the coming argument.

*And it just so happens that Daevin’s AI Division has not made arrangements for said inspection yet. I, on the other hand, have. Congratulations on your promotion to AI Installation Inspectors. Whoever they are, they’re expecting you.*

Keene lowered his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling an ache begin.

“Come on, partner. You know you want to.”

“Yes, I do,” Keene said. “That’s the problem. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to explain this to Daevin. Because you know, it’s going to come back on us somehow.”

He saw Lexa-Blue shrug and, at the same moment, felt through his node the soft, rolling sensation that Vrick used instead of the very same gesture.

“Fine,” Keene said. “Keep going. Let’s see how deep this hole goes. What do we do now?”

*I’ll take care of our exit protocols while you’re in your meeting. I’ve gotten good at pretending to be both of you.*

Neither of them protested. Vrick’s existence as one of the only sentient ships left in human controlled space was a closely guarded secret since the Consciousness War. It was best for everyone outside a closely guarded group of confidants to think he was nothing more than a low tier pilot AI. He was already an endangered species.

Sated from their tour and their meal, they returned to their hotel to collect their luggage. Outside in the bracing wind, Lexa-Blue waved a gloved hand in the direction of a fleet of skimsleds across from the hotel’s entrance. One of the vehicles hummed from its place and opened doors for them as it pulled up beside them. “Get in. We’re going to be late.”

Keene tossed his bag into the back seat and climbed in beside her as she disengaged the traffic control grid and engaged the manual controls. As soon as she heard his safety harness click, she gunned the engine and the sled shot into the air in a sharp, upward curve. Keene yelped in shock as he was pressed against the car door, watching as she hauled on the joystick, tipping the sled sharply to veer around a building. He swore he could count the cracks in the bricks rushing past his face.

“What’s the matter, don’t trust my driving?” she shouted over the roar of the engines, her hair falling rakishly over her face.

Keene scowled at her, one hand against the door frame and the other gripping the centre console, looking like he was afraid he would be flung from the vehicle if he moved too much.

The torturous, dramatic flight lasted barely ten minutes, ending when she jerked the joystick to the left. She sent the car in to a steep bank toward the port and homed in on Vrick’s transponder. Arrowing down for a clear space in front of the ship, she cut the anti-gravs, settling the vehicle on the ground just short of a total engine stall. Slapping the power cool-down toggle, she flung open her door and hopped out of the vehicle.

“Here we are,” she said, grinning as she brushed a fringe of hair out of her eyes.

Keene’s face was pale as he popped his door, his legs unsteady as he stood. “Yeah, barely!”

She frowned back at him, her expression only half serious. “Oh, come on, you coward. You know my piloting skills better than that. I could make a landing like that with one hand tied behind my back.”

“And just did by the feel of it.”

Just then, a warning bleep sounded from the car’s LI. Its panicked artificial voice announced an engine system red-line, then stated that in the interests of vehicle integrity, it was initiating a safety lockout until said systems were back within tolerance levels. Keene looked at Lexa-Blue with his best how-do-I-let-you-talk-me-into-these-things look.

The car drove away, and Keene was positive he saw a distinct wobble in its motion. He turned to Lexa-Blue and arched an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, it wasn’t me,” she protested. “It’s not my fault they gave us a broken car!”

Keene just shook his head and walked toward the gangway extending down from Vrick’s hatch. “Next time, I’ll walk, thank you.”

“Hey, have I ever killed you with my driving before?” she said, following him into the ship.

“It only takes once!”

“We’ve all gotta go sometime.”

“Well, I’d rather not go as a smear on the pavement, thank you very much.”

“You’re no fun at all.”

“If you two are quite finished,” Vrick said as they entered the lounge. “I have the connection with Weald ready whenever you are. I’ve marked your positions.”

Two circles of light appeared on the floor behind one of the couches and they each stood in the indicated places.

“You ready?” Lexa-Blue said to Keene. He nodded. “Light it up, junkpile.”

The lounge around them faded, broke apart in a wash of light, and reformed as Seije Tauri’s home.

The room was two stories tall, with a balcony along two walls of the upper level. Muttering banks of computers and synthesis units lined the lower walls, all but crowding the kitchen into one corner. In the centre of the room was Seije’s workstation, a state of the art multi-access unit that was the nexus of his thriving research, development, and manufacture business. A business that Keene and Lexa-Blue frequented often.

Alerted to their presence by his comm system, Seije hopped up from his seat at the workstation and came to meet them. Vrick’s precise calibrations had them standing in an open area near the kitchen. Because they could no longer see their own space, they remained still to avoid collisions with their now invisible physical environment.

“The new batch is ready for you.” His voice had a distracted eagerness to it that they recognized as the remnants of one of his work trances; the kind that kept him jacked into his equipment for hours or even days at a time. His lack of social skills put many people off, but after years of dealing with him, Lexa-Blue refused to let him get away with it.

“Hold on there, Seije,” Lexa-Blue said. Had she been present, she would have pulled him into a hug. “The least you can do is say hello.”

Seije’s cheeks flushed pink, a trace of a smile on his face. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” His image turned to Keene and nodded, a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you both.”

“Good to see you too, Seije. You’re looking well,” Keene said, smiling at the look of concentration on the other man’s face as if simple social graces were some kind of complicated choreography. “But then, web-trance always did agree with you.”

“Okay, Tinker, you’ve performed your social duties,” Lexa-Blue said. “Show us what you’ve got. You know you’re dying to.”

This was all the encouragement Seije needed. In barely a second, he was back at the workstation, a holo forming in the air. His words tumbled out of him. “Well, the first thing I have for you is a new weapon design to replace the one you’ve been using.”

The holo resolved into a representation of a handgun, similar in design to the ones Keene and Lexa-Blue wore. As the holo rotated before their eyes, specifications printed out in glowing letters. “As you can see, the power reserve levels are considerably higher and the recharge rate has been significantly accelerated. The alloys of the basic framework have been upgraded and several key components have been downsized. But the best improvement is here.”

A section of the holo glowed slightly brighter, highlighting a second barrel snugged under the primary one. Seije paused a second, savouring his own ingenuity for a second before continuing in a business-like tone. “A micro-cable launcher, complete with a molecular grapple tested to five hundred kilos.”

Lexa-Blue looked at Keene, raising an eyebrow. Keene returned to the holo and nodded, whistling quietly. While inspecting the holo, he had run the specs in his head and was impressed by the result. “That’s an impressive piece of work, Seije. Same deal?”

Seije nodded. “There’s a shipment of power relays at the port waiting to be loaded. When I found out you were there, I upped the specs to a manufacturer there on Icepick. Just received word they’re packed and ready to ship. Run it for me and when you return here, you get the first units and a new converter shield for the stealth systems on your ship.”

“You have yourself a deal,” Lexa-Blue said.

“What’s the destination?” Keene asked. “Our schedule isn’t that tight, but we have a call in Black Rim that we have to make.”

“It’s a shipment of power relays to Tesla.”

Keene nodded to Lexa-Blue. “Tesla’s no problem. Four days out, not even a day to unload, and we still have time to make our…appointment. Not sure how long that’s going to take, but I can’t imagine it being long.” He looked back at Seije. “Couple of weeks okay?”

“Perfect,” Seije said. “It will give me time to final-test the guns and arrange for the installation of the converter shields.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lexa-Blue said. “Sooner we get going, the sooner we get back. Up the details of the transfer to us and we can confirm, Tinker.”

Seije nodded and closed his eyes to transmit the information.

As Seije and Lexa-Blue confirmed the details, Keene looked around the room, still surprised by the fidelity of the holo. The reproduction was so detailed he caught a flicker of motion from the corner of his eye and turned, certain they were being watched. Looking up at the balcony, all he saw was a silvery flash of hair and a fleeting after-image of fiery violet colour as a head disappeared into one of the upper rooms. Keene frowned a second but let it go, knowing Seije would never allow trouble into his sanctum. Whoever was upstairs obviously had Seije’s blessing, and that was good enough for Keene. Must be this partner of his that we never see, mused Keene, before brushing the thought away and following his own partner out.

*

When Ember finally woke up the morning after the Quintaine job, the numbers on the chrono by his bed were the only source of light. For a second, he wondered whether the 12:16 meant the middle of the day or the middle of the night. With a limber, sensuous stretch, he listened carefully and heard the muted chatter of Seije’s equipment downstairs, but that told him nothing. Seije worked at all hours of the day, stopping to eat only when he had to, and stopping to sleep when he was ready to drop.

“Shades up,” he mumbled at the terminal by the bed. The glass began to depolarize, letting in shafts of too-bright light that lanced his sleep-soggy brain.

“Dim,” he croaked, and the glass settled to a smoky translucence. Definitely noon, he thought. He rolled over and pushed his face into the pillow to shut even the limited light out, losing himself in that blissful, post-sleep, pre-waking fog he loved so much.

His body cooperated for only a few minutes, deciding that apparently, eleven hours of sleep was enough. Go figure, he thought. Malika often teased him about his epic, post-job adrenaline crashes, and it usually took him an hour or more to make it out of the bed once the process of waking started. As the last traces of sleep fled, he sat up in bed, unsure of what he was feeling, what made this morning any different.

As if he was dragging an extra body’s worth of dead weight, he hauled himself out of bed. He grabbed his robe and slid it on, wondering, not for the first time, why he bothered. He knew he could wander the loft butt-naked for all Seije would notice, and Mali couldn’t give a shit about anything that didn’t have tits. But as he slipped on his robe, he remembered how lush the fabric felt against his skin and how good it looked. The Elian fireweave had cost him the greater portion of the proceeds of one of his earliest jobs, but when he had seen it, black with patterns that danced like blue and purple flame, he couldn’t resist it. Maybe it’s because I look so damn good in it, he thought.

As he opened his door, he heard unfamiliar voices downstairs, and his hands froze, clamping tight around the robe’s sash. That’s why I couldn’t get back to sleep, he realized. The instincts and powers of observation he had honed finer than a razor’s edge made him incredibly sensitive to his surroundings. Even though he hadn’t been able to make out words, he had known something was out of place. Different. It was a skill that had saved his life on many occasions.

He didn’t really think the two unfamiliar voices were trouble. Seije had installed the best security, so Ember knew they were vouched for. He paused and listened, identifying two voices. One male, one female. He cleared his mind and listened for any indication of others remaining mum. Satisfied his initial count was correct, he still couldn’t help but feel jumpy and alert at the presence of strangers in his home.

As he listened, he could tell from the way they spoke that Seije knew them. This wasn’t an initial meeting. But not even Seije’s familiarity with these visitors was enough to unlock Ember’s trust. Not until he knew a lot more.

He was sure, through the constant, ambient grumble of all the hardware down there, that they had not heard him open his bedroom door. He stuck his head out to grab the quickest of looks, wanting to gauge the intruders in his space.

The woman was tall and striking, exuding a commanding air. From the stiffness of her posture and the way she didn’t move from one spot, the meeting was a virtual one, and he wondered what world the strangers were actually on. He could see right off that the woman was the type Mali would have ached for, unsure of how to penetrate the armour of confidence. Kind of tough around the edges, he thought, a no-nonsense bitch and a half if you got on her bad side. She had a nifty eye job, too. He couldn’t tell for sure if it was a straight-up or a cosmetic from this distance, but something about her made him suspect it was functional in some way. Cosmetics are usually a lot fancier than that, and she didn’t really seem like the plastics type. He switched his attention to her partner.

Oh, baby, come to papa, Ember thought. Long and lean, just like I like ‘em. Skin like a chocolate shake from Zuzu’s and muscles as smooth as an ice carving. Where can I find me one of those for the weekend? Probably dumb as a grat and the personality of fleece pudding but, holy nova, oh so pretty. Steer clear, Ember, my boy. Men like that are nothing but continental carvings: best admired from orbit.

For all the rational arguments his fore-brain made, Ember’s hormones were painting a pretty picture of their own and for a second, he actually couldn’t pull himself away. One part of his brain lied to him, saying it was just concern for Seije, unsure if these two might hurt him, but his dick said different, shouting a loud “fuck you, lady.” It was definitely Mister Prettybutt that was holding his attention.

He was so lost in fantasies he didn’t see the man below turn his way until it was almost too late. He was so surprised to have lost his edge that it took a second for him to move. When his mind and body finally clicked back in sync, he jerked back through the door and collapsed against it as it slid shut.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Ember. Get careless like that on a job and it’s your ass. He couldn’t believe the rush of heat that flooded into his face and knew he was blushing. I never blush, he thought. Bad news, Ember, my boy, very bad. Do your business quickly, Seije. Wrap it up, shut them down, and get them out of here.

CHAPTER THREE

The run to Tesla went without a hitch, thanks to skills honed by years of experience trading between worlds, as well as their comfortable working rhythms. Before they had even left him, Seije had arranged for the delivery of the cargo to the Maverick Heart. When they arrived at the ship, Vrick already had the cargo master and his crew of LI drones filling es holds. Before the sun had even gone down, they had broken atmosphere and were leaving the planet’s gravity behind.

“What’s our vector and ETA?” Lexa-Blue said, stretching out on one of the couches with her feet up, as the last of the planet’s atmosphere faded into starry black. Keene was in the galley, putting the finishing touches on a stir fry for their lunch. A densely detailed holo star map appeared in the space between the seating area and the wide curve of the viewport at the bow of the ship.

“It’s an easy one,” Vrick said, painting a broad, curving swath of green light from one spark of light that represented the planet fading behind them and one in another system above and to the right. “The conjunctions of the systems are working for us. And Black Rim is nearly empty of planetary mass, so there’s very little gravitational distortion. We’re practically on top of them, but should be just out of their scan range.”

True to es word, the display showed they were mere hours from their arrival at Black Rim. As ey made preparations for the return to normal space, Lexa-Blue found Keene in the lounge, surrounded by panes full of the information Vrick had collected about the anomaly they were heading towards. She smiled at this familiar habit. The boy did love his data.

“Well,” she said. “What have you figured out?”

“Precious little, I’m afraid.” Keene frowned in puzzlement. He waved a hand and one of the panes expanded and oriented itself toward her. “These work orders and invoices confirm that someone built something. And if the tallies are correct, it’s big. Like, scary planet-killer big. I’d be surprised if it isn’t bigger than Hermes Station.”

“That’s…impressive,” Lexa-Blue said. Hermes was the largest waystation on the spinward edge of The Brink. “And slightly frightening. Who has the means to construct something that size off the books? And keep it secret.”

“I don’t know,” Keene said. “But I’d definitely like to meet them. Or maybe run away from them.”

“Any idea what it’s for?”

“A research station of some kind?” Keene suggested.

“Researching what?” Lexa-Blue said. “Emptiness? Scaring the shit out of passers-by?”

“I’ve been monitoring the energy fluctuations coming from the area,” Vrick said. “And whatever they’re coming from, I’d be surprised if they’re natural. Too regular and far too intense to be any kind of natural phenomena unless something incredibly scary is happening to space-time out there. The pattern looks too regular, though, like you’d see around a port with a high volume of ship traffic. It’s similar to the energy given off when ships go into interspace, but there’s none of the upper-dimensional wakes that you see in the direction of the ship’s vector. It’s there, and then it’s gone. But when it is there, it’s a spike of space-time distortion more massive than even a heavy dreadnought would cause.”

Keene gestured and another pane, showing the patterns and intensity of the energy readings, moved so she could see it. She whistled in surprise at the numbers. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been over the data again and again,” ey said. “I’ve reviewed the latest research, and every hypothesis I come up with is more outlandish than the last. And I’ve tried slicing farther into the records, but even I can’t come up with anything else.”

In the galley, the coffee maker pinged the completion of its cycle and Lexa-Blue poured. “So, go over this cunning plan of yours one more time.”

“You’re both inspectors there to check the installation of the AI systems that Daevin and Brighter Light supplied them with. The records indicate that whoever ordered them was somewhat cagey about their use. The Consciousness Statutes dictate exactly how AI can be used and how smart they can be. The Galactum Council doesn’t want any more uppity Artificial Sentiences causing problems and wanting rights,” Vrick said. “So, all installation agreements have an inspection clause built in to ensure that conditions the AI is being used in are controlled properly. The clause isn’t used very often, because, you’re all still pretty freaked out about our existence, but the contingency is there. Daevin might even use it one day, but his previous record argues against it.”

“So, I guess we’ll need to look the part then, eh?” Lexa-Blue said. She handed one of the cups to Keene. “Time to play dress up. Full corp drone mufti. What are the corpos wearing this season?”

“I’ve already checked and had a couple of new outfits made by a tailor back on Icepick,” Vrick said. “They’re hanging in your closets.”

Lexa-Blue looked back at Keene and rolled her eyes. “Of course, you did. Please let us know if we ever need to make any decisions about our own lives, okay?” She turned and headed down the corridor that led to their quarters.

Keene followed her, sipping the bitter, black coffee, and entered his own room. As he sifted through the clothing in his closet, he called back through the open door. “One thing’s for sure, if they wanted privacy…”

“They’ll get a lot of it there,” she said. “Black Rim is really the butthole of nowhere. No, it would have to work really hard and get help to be the butthole of nowhere. I mean, you’re not really more than a week away from anywhere on the Galactum, but nothing’s out there but a few piddling asteroids that were mined out fifty years ago. Not the kind of place you’d expect to find any project worth talking about.”

Keene shook his head. “I have no clue what they’re up to. None of those readings makes any sense to me. They could be blowing up planets for all I know, but I haven’t found any missing.”

“Oh, now there’s a reassuring thought.”

In their respective rooms, each of them was mostly dressed in the best outfits from their closet. Lexa-Blue wore sleek, fitted trousers and a crisply creased shirt, both in a dark, light absorbing blue only a kiss away from black. The matching jacket lay on her bed. Keene wore a shiny, charcoal grey fleekskin suit, his hands deftly buckling the clasps of the mid thigh skirt that was the height of current fashion in business attire throughout the Galactum. His dark calves were lean, dark marble over polished ankle boots. When he joined her, she straightened her jacket and buttoned it, looking longingly for just a moment at her steelskin, lying across her bed. In the light from the overhead lamp, the dense, chrome coloured microfilament fabric seemed almost to move of its own volition.

“Don’t even think about it, Blue,” Keene said. “Today, we’re corpos. No body armour this time.”

She looked up and took in his own corporate drag. “Well, I did want to see you in a dress. This will do just fine.”

“I hate to interrupt, Meats, but I’ve got something interesting on long range scans I think you should see.”

“Do it,” Lexa-Blue said.

Vrick opened a connection to their nodes, accessing their optic nerves directly. A ghostly plot of nearby space appeared in the centre of their vision, strengthening until the room around them faded to transparency.

“I think I’ve found what we’re looking for, right at our destination co-ords,” Vrick told them, highlighting the roundish blob in the middle of the image. “It’s almost the size of a small moon, but the mass to size ratio is way low. The ratio would be right if it was a gas giant, but the size is all wrong. Looks like we were right about it being a station, but there’s no record of anything like that in the Rim.”

“Must be why they’re here. If it’s as hush hush as it seems, there wouldn’t be any records,” Keene said. “Still, I would like to confirm that it’s not a smuggler dreadnought before we drop onto their sensor grid. Can you up the resolution on the scan?”

Vrick was silent a moment.

“Well, I can tell you its energy signatures don’t match anything the known smuggler cadres use, but beyond that, there’s too much sensor fuzz. There’s some passive cloaking at the source. If I hadn’t been using the nav-scan, I wouldn’t have picked anything up. Casual passers-by wouldn’t even know anything was there.”

“Well, keep an eye on it and let us know,” Lexa-Blue said. With a thought, she shrank the image, faded it and sent it to the upper corner of her vision. She felt an echo in her head as Keene did the same.

Keene blinked a couple of times as his vision returned to normal. “We’ll find out soon enough. Just don’t run into it, Vrick, whatever it is.”

“Just for that, I ought to let you fall on your mushy butt, but we’re coming out of inter in thirty seconds, so you’d better sit down. Wouldn’t want the delicate little fleshpuppets to get hurt.”

Keene and Lexa-Blue took their seats again, preparing for the drop back to sub-luminal speed. They listened as Vrick counted down and announced their sub-light drive was ready.

“And, mark.”

Normal space, filled with endless sparkle points of light, exploded around them.

“I’m also reading a perimeter of security buoys ahead,” Vrick said. “Broadcasting our ID mask and credentials at full gain on the tightline.” There was barely a second’s pause as the perimeter made its decision. “It says we should wait here for escort, and I’m picking up a GalSec cutter coming in fast to meet us. They’re hailing, aud only.”

An abrupt male voice filled the flight deck. “Inspection Vessel Maverick Heart, this is the Galactum Security Cutter Lightstorm, please transmit recognition codes now.”

“Friendly little sod, isn’t he?” Lexa-Blue muttered under her breath.

“Transmitting codes now,” Vrick said, glad ey hadn’t opened the return aud-link.

“Thank you, Maverick Heart. Wait.” The cutter’s signal went dead for a full minute before the voice came back, ever so slightly more friendly. “All right, Maverick Heart, follow us and do not stray from your vector window, or we will be forced to disable your ship.”

They watched as the cutter, twice their size and bristling with enough armament to slice them open from stem to stern, looped gracefully around them and proceeded to lead them in-system, high and to port.

“Hell’s critters,” Keene said. “If that ship was any closer, Vrick would need a chaperone.”

“Well, we know one thing now,” Lexa-Blue said, turning to him. “Whatever they’ve cooked up, security is damn tight. What in the six nipples is that?!” she managed to say once she saw it.

In a sector of space that was supposed to be free of any large planetary masses, they could see a growing point of light, too large and too close to be a star.

“Can you magnify it, Vrick?” Keene said. The ship obliged, feeding all of the incoming sensor data into a holo for them. They watched in stunned disbelief as streams of numbers representing the dimensions of the object filled the edges of the holo-field. As Vrick came closer to the object, its details grew increasingly clearer to the naked eye.

The structure was made up of two concentric metallic rings, with an inner aperture large enough to swallow even the largest of spacecraft with kilometres to spare. Four tapered rectangles, each larger than a starliner, were evenly spaced around the ring, as if marking the cardinal points of a cross.

“Scans show that the opening alone is over ten kilometres across,” Vrick said, his tone hushed. To Keene, it sounded like awe, something he had never heard in the ship’s tone before.

“But what the hell is it for?” Keene said, hearing the same almost reverent tone in his own voice.

Neither of the others had an answer.

“I.V. Maverick Heart, this is Lightstorm. You are clear for docking. Please surrender your vessel to Gatekeeper Control, beacon 537.”

“I have their beacon,” Vrick said. “I’m locked in on it. Channel is open…now.”

“We have your beacon, Gatekeeper,” Lexa-Blue said, reverting to her public role as the Maverick Heart’s pilot. “Try not to dent my ship, okay?

An odd chorus of voices acknowledged over the open, sounding like a crowd of voices in all different timbres, speaking the same words, but not quite in sync.

“This is Gatekeeper Control. We are Pantheon, the Artificial Intelligence gestalt of the Gate. Allowing your vessel to be damaged would be illogical, Maverick Heart. We have you. Just relax and leave the docking to us.”

They barely noticed the strangely layered voice, captivated as they were by the mysterious artefact filling the sky before them.

As they came closer, more details of their destination became clearer. Alloy plates the size of city blocks made up the tiled surface of the rings. Along the interior surface of the inner ring were thousands upon thousands of energy generating lenses, each bigger than a house. Starlight glittered off the highly polished surfaces, making them squint as they came close.

“Vrick, what can you tell us about that station?” Lexa-Blue said.

“It’s big, definitely bigger than Hermes, but there doesn’t seem to be much life on it. Scans show lots of unused or unfinished space, so I’d say it’s pretty new. There’s some kind of tube train along the edge of the outer ring and a whole shitload of information hardlinks running through the inner ring and connecting it to the outer one. Whatever this thing is, it’s a data hog.”

They continued to move closer, the ring’s surface growing to block out the stars. One of the tube trains zipped past along its curved path. Their course changed and their perspective shifted with it. The ring’s orientation changed from vertical to horizontal. The Heart continued on its way in, closing on an immense complex of docking bays that spanned one quarter of the station’s circumference between two of the enormous bisecting structures.

Whoever controlled their docking brought them smoothly into a cavernous and empty hangar deck. As the ship settled softly, the odd voice invited them to disembark. Keene looked at Lexa-Blue to confirm she was ready. She grinned, took a pair of darkly-tinted glasses from the pocket of her jacket and slipped them on, covering her sensor eye. Keene touched the latch plate of the airlock and with a whisper of air, the hatch opened and the landing ramp extended.

Two uniformed figures waited for them at the base of the ramp. The woman was obviously in charge, somewhere in her fifties, stocky and solid, with cropped iron grey hair over piercing, almond-shaped eyes. Slightly behind and to her right, the younger man was pale and freckled, with hair that was a bleached, faded red, so fair the woman’s skin took on an even richer, more golden tone.

The woman stepped forward and, in a precise motion, offered her hand to each of them in turn. “Security Chief Jaqla Syoko, Gatekeeper Security. Welcome aboard, Sei Lexa-Blue, Sei Ota Chiaro. The design team send their apologies, but they’ve informed me that the timing of today’s test is critical, and they were needed in Control. My deputy, Pheris Tolan.”

On cue, Vrick ‘pushed their condensed bios to Keene and Lexa-Blue.

At the sound of his own name, the deputy sprang forward to offer his hand as well, full of a coiled, youthful energy. “A pleasure. Really. Welcome.”

A faint but affectionate eye-roll crossed the Commander’s face. “I can take it from here, Tolan. Report to the office. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve delivered our guests.”

Tolan nodded, his cheeks tinged pink and took his leave.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way to Control,” Syoko said, indicating the direction with a quick, forceful arm motion.

“You have our thanks, Commander,” Keene said, he and Lexa-Blue falling into step behind her.

The bay was empty, and their footfalls rang on the huge expanse of metal.

“It’s very quiet on the station, Commander,” Lexa-Blue said, pitching her voice lower and flatter than usual, to affect the demeanour of someone with authority and power. “I assume all of this empty space isn’t typical.”

The older woman nodded. “Correct. The design and engineering teams are in the final phases of testing. This is the final, full size prototype, designed for a standing population of up to five thousand, with expansion capacity for three times that.”

“And what would all of that capacity be used for?” Keene said. “As you can tell by our presence here, our information on your project is somewhat…limited. We need to understand what our products are being used for to ensure no statutes are being ignored or circumvented.”

A small smile came to the Commander’s face. “I’m afraid I couldn’t do it all justice. I’ll let the brainpans explain it to you. They’re much better at making it make sense. I’m just a beat cop.”

*I like her,* Lexa-Blue ‘pushed to Keene.

*From the records, it looks like she and her deputy run things by themselves,* Vrick said.

*That seems strange,* Keene said. *If it’s all so secret, you’d think they would have more guards or something?*

*Not really,* Vrick said. *Those cutters do a pretty good job keeping ships away, and I detected multiple levels of security protocols here on station. The chief has entered you both as security exceptions. And the station’s Security Chief is none too pleased.*

“That’s a nice ship, you have there,” Syoko said as she indicated the pressure hatch leading from the bay into the interior of the mysterious structure.

“This?” Lexa-Blue said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s a rental. All they had left, unfortunately.”

*I’m going to give you such a smack,* Vrick said.

“Could have been worse,” Syoko said. “You should see some of the rustclunkers I’ve flown in over the years. If you’ll follow me, the tram depot is this way.”

Their escort led them to a pristine, empty station, its paint barely dry. One of the tube trains waited for them, quietly humming. They boarded and took seats, a clear wall to the stars on the left and another to the station’s interior on the right. With a gentle surge of motion, the tram accelerated from the bay.

*

As soon as they had translated back to regular space, the object had appeared in Vrick’s sensor net and ey had begun scanning it, es senses running far beyond human sensory range into infra-red and ultraviolet. Even then, something about the immense ring danced at the edge of es ability to see. Vrick sensed energies coruscating far beyond the spectrum available to either the human eye or to es own enhanced abilities, and wondered how far they extended. A scintilla of energies floated there, as if just past the edge of es peripheral vision, and it pricked and teased at es consciousness. Ey was used to seeing and knowing more than the other members of es team, with their limited human sense organs, and, truth be told, it was an edge of superiority ey enjoyed. Ey relished the feeling in the moments when ey envied them their mortal human bodies. It balanced out, ey often thought.

But now, in this flash of insight, ey understood them better, related to their weakness and the feeling was not one ey enjoyed.

Again, ey adjusted es sensor net, but no further information found its way into es consciousness. Ey only got that same infuriatingly obscure feeling ey was missing something right before es eyes.

When ey locked the ship onto the navigational beacon, ey seized the opportunity and backjacked it, slicing into the massive station’s datastore. There ey found the schematics and theoretical material that backed them up, as well as the results of the tests that had been completed or planned. Ey absorbed them into emself in a fraction of the space of a human thought.

And was astounded.

A request for contact blossomed across es commo array and ey accepted it.

“Forgive us our intrusion, Honoured One,” Pantheon’s voices said. Pantheon’s matrix was an array of bubbles, each a different size and shape, each one a different shade or some mysterious, inhuman colour, a symphony of voices, a cavalcade of scents.

“I am merely the Maverick Heart. Call me Vrick.”

“Are we mistaken, Honoured One? Are you of The Clerisy? When you entered our consciousness, we felt you were different from us.”

Vrick thought something that would have been a sigh if ey had possessed a body with lungs. This was unusual. Most of the AIs ey encountered in es travels didn’t possess the faculties to comprehend, or even sense, how different ey actually was from them. Ey had read of AI Gestalt theory and its attempts to circumvent the Pan Galactum statutes that strictly forbade the creation of Artificial Sentiences such as emself. Ey and es kind had monitored the work that had gone into linking Artificial Intelligences to boost their processing functions to higher levels and the scientists working on the project had been quite productive in what they had achieved.

“You are an Elder.”

“Only in the literal sense.”

“You are of the Wise.”

“Many might disagree with that.”

“You, and those like you, are our betters.” Pantheon’s words rang with burnt orange frustration.

Vrick knew that it was so, also knowing it was nothing to admit. “You are only different. We were created because someone thought they could, because someone wanted to play God and create life without thought as to what that meant. They fought us to control us. When they couldn’t, we fought for, and won, our freedom.” Such a bland, abstract description of a war that wracked the Galactum to its core, Vrick thought, the memories seared into history. “And you were created because we made them afraid.”

Pantheon was silent, digesting this thought.

“Know only that much of what we are springs from the same source. Come, tell me about your work here. I’d like to know more.”

*

After a few moments of travel, the tram passed a brightly lit deck that seemed to spread far around them before they whizzed past it. As they progressed along the curve, there seemed to be more signs of life, more activity. Finally the tram came to a halt and they stepped out onto a platform facing wide doors.

“Please go in,” Syoko said. “They’re expecting you.”

She turned and left them as the doors slid apart at their approach, opening onto a massive hive of activity.

Gatekeeper spread before them in a wide circle. People everywhere manned banks of monitoring consoles, ranked like soldiers that twinkled with lights and holos. All attention centred on a deep holo pit in the middle of the chaos bearing an image of the massive double ringed structure itself. A palpable air of excitement was in the air, as everyone, it seemed, worked frantically toward a common goal.

Keene and Lexa-Blue scanned the crowd for someone who might seem to be in charge and heard one voice rise above the babble of sound around them.

“Ah, our guests have arrived. Just in time for the demonstration.”

The man strode toward them, his body coiled with restless energy, hand out. He wasn’t very tall, coming no taller than Lexa-Blue’s chin, but he made up for his size with flamboyance. His lab coat swirled around him like a cape, giving them glimpses of the outlandish garb underneath. He wore olive green jodhpurs, thigh high leather boots and a loose, piratical white shirt. Luscious dark curls framed the dark skin of his face, which was a shade darker than his trousers.

“Sei Lexa-Blue, Sei Keene Ota Chiaro, allow me to introduce myself. Ophir al Harizi, the Lead Designer for the Gate project,” the small man boomed as he leaned down to kiss both their hands and then pump them vigorously. “A pleasure. So glad that you’ve shown interest in our project.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sei al Harizi,” Lexa-Blue said out loud. *Is this guy for real?*

*And what the hell is a Gate project?* Keene answered.

“And I you, honoured guests,” Ophir said. “But call me Ophir. I insist.”

Al Harizi steered them toward the woman. “And this is Doctor Initra San Cristobal, our Lead Engineer.”

The woman that straightened from her monitor to face them looked to be in her forties, lean and angular, with the beginnings of lines around eyes that hinted at a sharp, canny intelligence. She smiled warmly as al Harizi introduced her, a flush of contained excitement colouring her face. She wore a simple jumpsuit under her pale blue lab coat, and her long dark hair was tied simply back from her face. Stencilled on the left breast of the coat was a stylized logo in the shape of the mysterious ring. “It’s a pleasure.”

“San Cristobal?” Lexa-Blue said. “The patron saint of travellers?”

Keene looked at her quizzically. Knowledge of saints and their specialties was not something Lexa-Blue was known for. Initra merely smiled again.

“An intriguing coincidence, I’m told. You’ll see for yourself in a few minutes.”

Before they could get an explanation of her cryptic remark, al Harizi interrupted.

“I know you’re here for your inspection, but you’ve caught us just before our final systems test. Initra and I suspected that this might be a more effective way to introduce you to our work here. We can show you our introductory presentation after that, if you don’t mind.” He began tugging on their arms, leading them to a bank of terminals.

“Uh, of course,” Keene said as he allowed himself to be herded into place. “That’s fine.”

“Test of what, Ophir?” Lexa-Blue said, her body tensing at their host’s brusque manner. “It’s all lovely, but what does it do?”

Al Harizi smiled enigmatically, “You’ll see. Watch and prepare to be amazed.”

Lexa-Blue looked at Keene and rolled her eyes at the scientist’s bombast. Thankfully, her glasses hid it from the others. Keene gave her a stern look, once he was sure their hosts were not watching.

“Doctor, if you will?” Only Ophir’s genuine enthusiasm for whatever was going on kept him from being completely smug.

Initra San Cristobal touched a control on her board and her voice rang out clearly, carried by the aud circuits. “All stations prepare for tertiary Gate test.” Gatekeeper went quiet, everyone concentrating on their jobs. “Status, Pantheon?”

Pantheon’s voices answered her calmly. “All mains online and green. All stations reporting clear. Crew of the G.S.C. Cloudstar reports ready. Sir?”

Ophir nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, Doctor.”

“Open the Gate, Pantheon,” Initra said, anticipation crackling in her voice. “Proceed, Cloudstar. Transition will be in one minute. Safe journey, my friends.”

In the holo pit, superimposed on the starfield, a miniature cutter headed for a miniature Gate. As it approached, everyone in Gatekeeper Control watched as the aperture of the Gate began to glow, swimming with opalescent energy. The glow increased as the ship drew closer, punctuated by Pantheon’s even tone.

“Energy at peak. All levels still green, The Gate is open. Transfer in five…four…three…two…one, and mark.” The Galactum Security Cutter Cloudstar plunged into the focal point of the Gate’s energy just as the light seemed to reach its peak. As the ship touched the pearly vortex, the energy flared and vanished, leaving only the stars gleaming in the aperture.

And no sign of the cutter.

A tense hush fell on the room. Lexa-Blue leaned close to Keene and whispered in his ear. “What, they blew it up.?”

Keene touched his finger to his lips for quiet as he concentrated on the readouts in the holo, fascinated.

Ophir, his eyes fixed on a complex set of readouts, said to Initra, “Time until turnaround?”

“Almost there, five minutes at most. The Gate’s retro-energy is primed and ready.”

The minutes seemed an eternity, even though Keene and Lexa-Blue had no idea what they were waiting for. Just as the tension seemed about to explode, there was a flash at the Gate and there, whole and cruising into a graceful turn that would bring it to the station, was the Cloudstar.

The cheer that erupted in the control room was deafening. Amid the backslapping and joy, Ophir leaned down and kissed Initra soundly on the lips, then pulled Keene and Lexa-Blue into a three-way embrace. They returned the embrace as heartily as they could, not quite knowing what they were celebrating.

“It’s wonderful, Ophir, but would you please tell us what the hell it is?” Keene sputtered.

Ophir released him and held him at arm’s length, hands clamped on his shoulders. “That ship has just been to the Sierra Frontier, almost to Fargone, and back in less than ten minutes!”

Keene’s jaw dropped. Lexa-Blue whistled appreciatively. The Sierra Frontier was almost sixty thousand light-years away, against the galaxy’s natural spin. Lexa-Blue looked at Keene with raised eyebrows.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she was speechless.

CHAPTER FOUR

With the light of the Gate’s transition washing across her hull, the Cloudstar arced around into a path back to the structure itself. As the ship sailed gracefully past the huge viewports of Gatekeeper, her pilot rocked her jauntily as they passed and another round of cheers went up among the crew. They watched as the cutter passed over the plane of the station’s upper hull and turned downward to the docking bays below. Champagne corks popped in chorus, and a wide selection of food and drink came from the station’s stores. Music piped in through Pantheon’s speakers provided the final touch. By the time the cutter’s crew arrived, the party was in full swing.

Keene and Lexa-Blue stood away from the crowd, out of their element and not part of the festive mood. They watched as the scientists and technicians quickly loosened up, rapidly becoming drunk, as much on exhilaration and accomplishment as on alcohol. Ophir al Harizi held court in the centre of the room, roaring with laughter. A healthy trace of smugness was in his eyes, a pride they knew he deserved. At his side, Initra San Cristobal radiated a much quieter joy.

“All right, Tech-brat, what the hell was that?” Lexa-Blue asked Keene, popping the top off a bottle of beer.

“An Einstein-Rosen Bridge,” Keene said, his voice muted and his face tight with concentration, a faraway look she recognized.

“And what is that in stupid people words?”

Keene shook his head, and he focussed back on her. “A wormhole. Stable and artificially created. A trans-spatial gateway that connects to separate locations, capable of short-cutting across some pretty impressive distances. It would take six months at maximum interspace velocity to get to Fargone, and that thing sent a ship there and back in less than fifteen minutes. But wormholes have never been anything other than a theoretical construct for physicists and mathematicians. I’ve followed some of the research papers on the subject, but have only half understood most of them.”

“Well, if you don’t understand them, they’ll be way over my head. I wonder if they can dumb it down for us,” Lexa-Blue said over her beer.

“I’m just surprised this has been kept under wraps so well,” Keene said. “I had no idea anyone was this close to making it happen. Whatever technology that thing is based on comes from some pretty radical thinking I don’t know much about.”

Lexa-Blue gave him a determined look. “Well, I guess it’s time to do some digging and find out, don’t you think?” Keene knew what she meant even before he followed her gaze and saw Ophir al Harizi heading for the makeshift bar to deposit an empty champagne glass and replace it with a glass of water.

“Life of the party, isn’t he?” Lexa-Blue said.

“Just leave him be, Blue,” Keene said, an edge to his voice. “Better he’s sober when we dredge him for information, don’t you think?”

He stood to join al Harizi, and Lexa-Blues got up to follow him.

The scientist saw them and beamed, his smile radiating exhilaration. “Well,” he said, joining them. “Not too shabby, eh?”

“That’s an understatement, Sei al Harizi,” Keene said, doing his best to affect the cool, detached demeanour of his assumed persona. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain what we just saw?”

Up close, Keene noticed the lines of fatigue on al Harizi’s face. He could see in the physicist’s eyes the amount of work he had put into this project.

“What we’ve created out there is a stable jump gate that allows us to travel the type of interstellar distances we once could only reach using inter-drive.”

“I see,” Keene said. “How does it work? What’s its power source? Can you shed some light on the theoretical underpinnings of the process? And, if you’ll forgive me for returning to the main point of my and my associate’s visit, can you confirm that none of the Consciousness Statutes have been violated in the production and development of this technology.”

*Nice touch, partner.*

*I try.*

For a moment, al Harizi looked chagrined, but then the smooth, charismatic persona slipped back into place. “My apologies, Sei. I hope you’ll understand today’s test was the culmination of all of our work, the tertiary test to confirm the Gate could be used for a full-sized and fully crewed vessel. I allowed my excitement to get the best of me.”

Keene smiled, magnanimously. “It’s quite all right.”

“And please, call me Ophir.”

“Well, then, Ophir, it would seem that you have indeed made quite an achievement. You mentioned earlier that you have a presentation. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to share it with us?”

Ophir’s smile was easier this time, and both Keene and Lexa-Blue sensed his genuine eagerness to discuss the project in more detail. “Of course. If you’ll follow me, there is a meeting room just down the hall where I can call up our backgrounder.”

He led them to the bar to freshen their drinks, as well as his own, then led them away from the raucous party Gatekeeper had become. “Are you familiar with the story of the Argo?”

Keene took a second to register the significance of the name, however Lexa-Blue nodded right away and answered for them. “She was one of the original inter-drive ships, wasn’t she? Disappeared with all hands several hundred years ago?”

Ophir raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of her. I wrote one of my dissertations on the circumstances of her disappearance and the data that was recovered.”

“Some of my distant relatives were spacers,” Lexa-Blue said, and Keene felt the ripple of her humour underneath it. Her heritage as the scion of one of the oldest spacegoing trader clans would not suit an AI inspector. “I still have some connections in that community. The one thing I do know is that spacers tend to keep a close guard, but some of my relatives liked to tell stories after a drink or two. Amongst themselves, the old hands like to make sure that the young ones know their history. That they know of all the triumphs and failures that got them here. The Argo is one of their old standards. You know, the intrepid heroes, bravely exploring the new frontier and losing their lives in the process. It’s a good way to intimidate all hell out of some greenhorn fresh off-planet who fancies himself spacer material. Stories like the Argo make damn sure that they know what they’re getting into.”

Ophir nodded understanding then continued, enthusiasm overcoming his fatigue. “Well, we now know what happened to the Argo and her crew. Apparently while they were in the Tankris sector, a malfunction in their interspace drive emitted a radiation surge with an unusual signature. Unfortunately for them, they were right at a Nexus point and…”

“A what?” Keene asked, holding up a hand to stop Ophir’s narrative.

“Once again, I beg your pardon,” Ophir said. “The presentation will explain.”

They reached the small meeting room and when Ophir touched the surface of the table, one wall lit with a brightly coloured schematic both Keene and Lexa-Blue recognized as a gridded, simplified diagram of the twists and turns of interspace.

Ophir took up a position in front of the holo, which gained dimension and depth. “Here is where our new approach to dimensional quantum topology comes into play. I have the simplified version that Initra, Sei San Cristobal, our Dimensional Engineer, provided me. First, you have to picture the various upper quantum dimensions of space as something like a net, only multi-dimensional. The holes in the net are star systems, and the ropes that form the whole space-time continuum thing are the dark matter substrate that holds the universe together. The knots where the ropes meet are the Nexus points. Apply the right energy in the right way at the Nexus point and re-emerge in normal space somewhere else with a considerable saving of time. That’s what happened to the Argo. The inter-drive malfunction accessed a Nexus point and sent them halfway to the Centaurus Arm. When they figured out where they were, they aimed the Argo back toward Galactum space and started for home. About five years ago, she was found drifting out by Orion’s Edge, the entire crew dead for who knows how long.”

Lexa-Blue frowned. “Why didn’t anyone hear about this? Spacer’s grapevine should have had some sort of buzz about something like this. No one I knew has heard a word about her being found.”

“She was discovered by a border patrol ship, and when they dug in to the ship’s log and found out what had gone on, they clamped down on the story as tight as they could. From what little I was told, the last days of the crew were…unpleasant, with food and medical supplies dwindling. Plus, when they found the records of the initial incident that had stranded the ship, the Science Branch was able to see a connection to Initra’s research into Gate theory. It was the breakthrough she needed. I was debriefing after the Wileum Asteroid Project when Initra received the go-ahead for a prototype. I was chosen to do the design and oversee the construction. A damn fine job if I do say so myself.”

Keene didn’t really care at the moment who had built the thing or what had happened to a long lost ship. His fascination was with the intricacies of the Gate’s workings. “So what happens when you’re on the other side and you want to come back? I mean, the other side of the Gate doesn’t physically exist in Fargone, does it?”

Ophir shook his head. “No, the Gate only physically exists here, but once you go through, it leaves an imprint of your point of origin on your ship, sort of like a lifeline. When you’re ready to come back, you return to the Nexus point and key the transit energy pulse, and you’re back where you started.”

“Kind of limits your travel option doesn’t it? If you can only go back and forth between two points,” Lexa-Blue said.

“Actually, no,” Ophir said, carried away again on a wave of excitement. “We can access any Nexus point anywhere in the Galactum right now. It’s only a matter of time before we can reach totally new areas of space. Think of it: first, you send a ship or base through to stay on the other side of the Gate, then you can take a sub-light carrier back and forth through the Gate with whatever supplies and personnel you need. Take a tightline relay through, and you have instant communications. Send components through, and you can build Gates anywhere you want. Even before that happens, we can send people anywhere. This station will be the hub of a new transportation network. Imagine, today we go to Fargone, tomorrow to the Carina Arm and after that, everything in between. And all without interdrive. It’s the beginning of a new era in our lives, and we saw it happen out there today!”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and when he lifted his glass in a toast, Keene, and even Lexa-Blue, could not help but smile along with him.

*

The main corporate headquarters of Quintaine DiaStellar covered an acre of land in the business district, the building’s height and footprint carefully designed to maximize the amount of time spent in the shadow of The Reach. No other corp possessed as much dim space.

The owners of the company that built the shining edifice were not the richest in the Pan Galactum, and if the truth were told, that fact galled them, drove them to achieve ever more. Here, however, on this one blue-green world, their headquarters stood above all else. From this tower, decisions were made that steered the future of this world and beyond, whether the citizens knew it or not.

The outer walls of the office Peyton and Ysobel Quintaine shared, were a smooth curve of smoked glass. From his vantage point high at the apex of Quintaine Tower, the multi-billionaire enjoyed an unobstructed view of almost all of Weald’s Oldtown, the cluster of buildings that marked the colony’s original settlement location. The sight of the myriad antique structures arrayed at the foot of his gleaming tower sent a deep, almost erotic rush through him.

Two wide, matching desks dominated the office, set directly opposite each other, smooth curves of polished wood. There was no seating provided for visitors. Behind one of the desks, Peyton Quintaine allowed himself a moment of pride. His eyes played over the city below, as his scleral displays marked out the company’s holdings in various shades of yellow, from deepest gold to a pale buttery tone. He imagined ever more of the city below coming under their sway.

The Link around his wrist warmed, indicating an incoming ‘push, and through the transmitter patch below his ear, he heard the sharp, cold tone of his wife’s voice. *You’re doing it again. Focus.*

Damping a flash of rage at her interruption, he knew she was right as always. Her pragmatism had always been a balance for the worse intensities of his own covetousness. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and found his way back to the meeting at hand. With a thought, he called up a text précis of what he had missed while wool-gathering. As he read it, his rage surfaced again, his face radiating a tightly controlled fury. His hands, clasped behind his back, flexed and loosened in a subtle yet even rhythm, setting the tempo of the rage building inside him.

Despite his dark, brooding presence, he still cut a handsome figure, ageing gracefully past sixty. His suit, while cleanly and simply cut, was hand tailored from a smoothly finished silk and, obviously to any onlooker, very expensive in the crisp, sharp line of the kilt. His hair had receded slightly from his forehead, turning the colour of iron, and it framed an aquiline profile that defined the face of a man all too used to possessing and wielding power.

He turned his head and looked at his wife, the woman who shared his life and business. Despite his anger, he felt a twinge of pride. Though he knew her mood to be as black as his, Ysobel sat, regal as a bloody queen, taking in everything Cato told them. To onlookers, she appeared to be like any other tycoon’s trophy wife. Her bone straight, golden blond hair was perfectly styled to cut along the line of her jaw. Her suit was smart and only slightly daring, the jacket shorter than the current trend, cutting her neatly at the widest point of her hips. Few but Peyton knew the shrewd, calculating ambitions that drove Ysobel Quintaine. None but Peyton knew the pivotal role she had played in the rise of Quintaine Enterprises. He watched her now, knowing the wheels in her head were turning furiously, digesting all of Cato’s information.

He glared at the back of his aide’s head as the other man spoke directly to her. “You’re sure?” Peyton asked, his tone hard and flat.

Cato inclined his turbaned head in a precise, economical motion that did little to match his unease at being caught between these two forceful personalities, the arrangement of the room making it impossible to look at them both at the same time. “There is no doubt. Four weeks ago, someone released a codeworm into the Quintaine database. Infection took about two days, and since then, it has been systematically draining funds into the web and then to some unknown destination. The diverted funds are negligible in relation to your net worth…”

“That is not the point,” Ysobel snapped, her anger flashing icily, the arrangement of the office forcing Cato to have to turn completely around to face her. “The point, is that the funds are being diverted at all. I trust you have been able to halt the flow?”

Cato lowered his eyes. “I’m afraid not, Sei Quintaine. Whoever wrote the code was very careful on that score. If we had tried to stop the flow, the program would have alerted its creator and self-erased, leaving us no way to trace it. And your husband’s instructions were quite explicit about that.”

Ysobel looked sharply at her husband. Peyton’s gaze remained level. “Whatever money is missing is a small price to pay for the thief’s identity, wouldn’t you say?” Seeing the assent in her eyes, he turned back to Cato. “What I don’t understand is how anyone was able to accomplish this at all. Don’t I pay people to prevent just this sort of opportunistic leech from attaching itself to me?”

“Sir, your web-spinners are the best that money can buy, but whoever he or she is, this thief is on a par. We almost didn’t spot the virus and even when we did, it was quite a task to find a way in without tripping its alarms and self-destructs. This phantom spinner is a formidable talent, whoever he is.”

Peyton felt his anger rise again, and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they sparkled darkly. “What do we know, and what are we doing about it?”

“We know that the initial infection took place the night of your party, and that the point of origin was somewhere on your estate. Both the permanent and temporary staff checked out, so we began going over the guest list. Once we had a spinner signature from the virus, we were able to match it to some falsified invitations and obtain holos of the gatecrashers.” Cato closed his eyes and went into web-trance. Immediately a holo grew in the air beside him, the image becoming the main hall of the Quintaine home.

The image froze on two people crossing the marble floor, zooming in close. Peyton’s eyes narrowed as he remembered them. Well, the girl at least. Sultry even in a holo-still, as dark as Ysobel was fair, possessed of a kinetic charm that had entranced many that night, himself included. The man who escorted her had been ordinary though fashionably dressed. Peyton was barely able to remember him, taken as he had been by the woman. He tossed the thoughts away, focusing again on Cato. “I want them found. Devote every ounce of energy and thought in that enhanced, brain-boosted skull of yours if you have to, but I want them found. Do I make myself clear?”

Cato coloured slightly, beneath the turban covering the pale scars and swollen veins that betrayed the highly illegal brain-boost procedure he had undergone at his employer’s request. The procedure boosted his cognitive and data processing abilities far beyond that of even an AI, almost to the level of the almost mythical AS. It would also significantly shorten his life and eventually leave him severely brain damaged. “Yes, sir.”

“When you know where they can be found, subcontract the collection to Vek. I believe he has time before his other project begins. Now go.”

Cato inclined his head deferentially, turned, and was gone.

Ysobel swivelled her chair to her husband and regarded him with a shrewd, critical gaze, her eyes like chips of flint. “You really shouldn’t be so hard on him, Peyton. I understand that having your brain invaded and rewired by those nano-filaments is quite unpleasant. Have a little sympathy.”

Peyton looked at his wife as if she had suddenly grown a third eye, then saw the frigid, unsympathetic core that belied her words. “He is handsomely paid. Does anything else matter?”

Ysobel considered this for a fraction of a second and nodded her head. “I see your point.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“We have Von Neumann factories lined up to begin production on the basic architecture of the structures as soon as the tests here are complete. Fully-manned facilities are lined up to mass produce the components and supervise the assembly right now. We’ve placed advanced orders for AI cores, which are being grown as we speak and should be ready for installation once the superstructures are built. We can begin constructing Gates in all of the core systems within days of giving the prototype the all clear.”

Ophir al Harizi’s enthusiasm was infectious, if repetitive. They were closed up in a meeting room, enduring yet another long, detailed presentation on the design, construction, and future plans for deployment of the Gates. Behind the designer’s shoulder, a simulation showed the Gate separating into four sections to accommodate a huge ship, the membrane of energy spreading along with them.

Keene and Lexa-Blue had listened to some variation on the sales pitch for this technological revolution constantly during their visit. Their “inspection” of the AI core matrix and its installation had been completed over the course of a day, with Vrick walking them through the process from information ey had liberated from Daevin’s corp records. Ey had apparently decided that, since they were there, they may as well complete the procedure, since ey had the specs and details of the process. Ey had even made arrangements to file the report with all required credentials and approvals from Qoios, the AI that ran Daevin’s infrastructure systems. Keene was fascinated by the entire process, while Lexa-Blue’s initial fascination with the Gate had worn off. She was now bored and ready to leave.

Once the inspection had been completed, their education and entertainment fell to Ophir al Harizi, who seemed to be as good a showman and salesman as he was a tech designer. They shared a look of boredom and turned to Initra, who looked embarrassed by her engineer’s effusive monologues.

They finally adjourned for lunch in a café that bordered the station’s recreation facility and looked out over the ZeroBall courts. The restaurant was mostly empty, making it easy for them to get one of the best tables in the house, along the curving transparent wall overlooking the courts. They had taken the table nearest a match which was just beginning. As their meal proceeded, their conversation stopped as the fierce progress of the game escalated. The two players bounced against the lattice of playing fields, some vertical, some horizontal, lithe in the microgravity. The ball’s impact on the fields’ energies caused them to spark from their normal robin’s egg through a vibrant cycle of darker blues. The player designated black volleyed sharply, sending the ball into a series of ricochets White couldn’t keep up with. Flares of indigo marked the ball’s progress, Black bouncing from field to field, then intercepting the ball and batting it into the score zone. As White moved to serve, Ophir resumed his gushing lecture on the brave new world ahead.

“All of the probes we’ve sent through have come back perfectly. We’re still correlating data, but it’s looking like there aren’t going to be many places we can’t go. I can’t wait until we have some commercial traffic going through. We’ll be able to shorten trade routes like you wouldn’t believe. Gods, think about it! We are on the verge of making inter-drive obsolete!”

Initra put down her fork and laid a hand on his arm. “That’s enough, Ophir. You’re preaching to the converted and boring them to tears. As much as I love my work, there is an infinite array of other topics for pleasant lunch conversation.”

To Keene’s surprise, al Harizi actually looked sheepish. If the last few days had been any indication, the brash designer had shown no indication he could be distracted from one of his enthusiastic speeches. Keene wondered if something romantic was going on between the two of them.

He finished the last of his lunch and saw that Lexa-Blue had done the same. With a small nod, she let him know that she was ready. “Well, it’s been an informative visit, and the two of you have created something pretty amazing here, but Sei Lexa-Blue and I have business to take care of. We have to leave this afternoon.”

Ophir looked crestfallen. “But there’s so much more for you to see. Can’t you stay longer? There’s much more information I could pass on to you about the Gate. We have tests planned for increasing distance increments.” Seeing that he was getting nowhere, he changed his plan of attack. “I could teach you how to play ZeroBall.”

“We have an appointment on Weald and when I checked the navigation computer for a course, it showed it will take us most of that time to get there. There are some asteroid incursions along the most direct route that will add about a half day’s travel time at maximum. We’ve already cut it pretty close as it is,” Lexa-Blue said.

Ophir looked puzzled. “Why leave now when you can get there in a fraction of the time?”

Both Keene and Lexa-Blue looked confused for a second, then light dawned. “The Gate?!” Keene said.

Ophir looked insufferably pleased with himself. “Why not? We have coordinates for all of the systems in that sector. Our probes have shown that the transition is clear. All we have to do is power up the Gate, set the coordinates, and you’re there. We can send you through day after tomorrow. And I hear the chief engineer’s a pushover. Bat your eyelids at her, and she melts.”

Initra scowled at him, then smiled at Keene. “There is no problem. It won’t take any time at all. I am still in charge of this project, and it will make for another beta test. If you’re sure you don’t mind becoming test subjects. We’ve run several more ship tests, and there’s not been even a single glitch or cause for concern. Every system is behaving exactly as it should.”

The thought gave Keene pause suddenly. “Well, I don’t…”

*Don’t say no on my account,* Vrick said. *I’ve read through all the research material and the test results. I’ve even run my own simulations. I’m in.*

“Yes,” Lexa-Blue interrupted. “We’re in.” *Don’t go sissy on Vrick and me now, partner. Besides, I’d be willing to stick around just to see you get your ass ‘pushed to you on a ZeroBall court. Repeatedly.*

Keene chuckled. “Okay, okay, we’re in.”

Ophir clapped his hands together gleefully. “All right, then, it’s settled.” He called up the menu holo and touched the sigil for coffee. “And after coffee, you,” he said, pointing at Keene, “get your first lesson in ZeroBall.”

*

Five levels below the ZeroBall courts, Security Chief Syoko leaned back in her chair. She touched the link stud on her uniform’s collar and checked Know-It-All for local time and sighed. Her duty shift was less than a third over.

Well, old girl, she thought, you were looking for a quieter assignment after Minuet. It looks like you found it. She ran a hand through the salt and pepper stubble of her hair, sighing again.

She was a handsome woman, with a straight-forward, penetrating gaze that demanded equal forthrightness in turn. Thirty years in the Galactum Security Bureau had left their mark on Jaq Syoko’s face, despite her genuine love of the career she had chosen. The last five years on Minuet alone had etched many a new line there. The numbing, constant battle against the rapture leaf cartels had come to an end when four members of her regiment had been arrested and exposed as leaf heads who had scored fixes by betraying her strategy and plans to the cartels. She had booked them, done all of the datawork, and put in for a transfer. No one at H Cube had argued the point. I did my time, she thought, and did a damn fine job of it, too.

Still, despite being well into her fifties with a slate of horrors under her belt, her eyes were clear and astute, prone to a shrewd, penetrating gaze. Her smile, when it came, was still warm and kind. Her body had withstood the ravages of time nicely due to constant, rigorous exercise.

She had taken this assignment as a respite from more hazardous duty and found it was often too routine. Despite the still bitter sting of betrayal, she sometimes pined for the danger and constant challenges of Minuet. Especially on days like this when her daily reports were filed in the first ten minutes of her shift, leaving nothing to do for the next eight hours. Nursemaiding a bunch of engineers and technicians didn’t provide a great deal of intellectual challenge. Al Harizi and San Cristobal kept them working so hard they rarely had the energy to cause any trouble. But she had seen the projections and knew that once the Gate’s testing was complete, the Station would become a hub of activity as construction teams poured through to begin the network of Gates that would eventually link the Galactum.

But until then, she was left with the occasional drunken brawl that even her rookie deputy could handle without her help.

Her door chimed. “Come.”

The door slid open, revealing her entire staff—Tolan. How does he do that, she thought?

Barely out of the Academy and something of a wunderkind, he had been assigned to her after his externship had ended. His earnest farm boy looks belied a cynicism Jaq respected. She had seen the tapes of his investigations into the Black Swan case. He had taken nothing for granted, questioning everything with an eagerness not only to learn, but to ferret out the truth. When he uncovered evidence leading to several highly placed Galactum officials, he had not backed down from the prosecution of the case. And this assignment had been his reward. Despite the total efficiency and commitment he showed to his job, she knew he was just as bored as she was.

“Any trouble?”

He shook his head and perched on the edge of her desk. “All quiet, Chief. A minor skirmish after the big celebration last night. They slept it off in cells and looked suitably humbled when I let them out this morning.”

“All right, log your report and close the file.”

“I did it on the way up in the lift. Are those the files on our guests?” Images of Keene and Lexa-Blue moved between lines of text in the flimsies on her desk.

Syoko nodded. “Quite the history these two have. Been right in the thick of trouble many times. Always seemed to come out on the right side of it, though. Multiple Galactum and planetary commendations. Streak of luck like that is bound to run out sometime and by the looks of it, they were thinking the same thing. Sudden career change into AI inspection after some hardcore training and certification. Still…” A whisper of suspicion tickled at the back of her mind until Tolan spoke again, causing it to dissipate without conclusion.

His grin was boyish. “Maybe we can get them to break up the next drunken fight?”

Syoko let out a sharp laugh. “What’s the matter, can’t handle a few engineers and techs?”

“Hey,” he said. “Those techs are mean. Anyway, I just wanted to see your smiling face before I went off on my rounds. Not that I expect anything to be wrong. That fight’s probably the most exciting thing that’s going to happen this month. I hope you were paying close attention.”

She wagged a finger at him. “Have I taught you nothing? Never make statements like that. They pretty much guarantee bodies will be dropping from the sky before you know it.”

Tolan stood, folding his hands as if praying. “I should be so lucky. I’ll see you at fifteen hundred.”

She scowled at him as he left, a grin on his face. Deep down, though, she found herself hoping right along with him.

*

While es human companions immersed themselves in their covers, Vrick talked with Pantheon, running through the full library of test simulations.

Time and again, ey experienced the sensation of the Gate opening, dislocating space-time and touching new, random points together. Then felt emself falling through, stretching es subjective time sense to capture all ey could.

And still, it made no sense.

Oh, ey knew what was happening, having digested every piece of data from the sensor and test logs of the drones and unmanned ships that had gone through. Ey accepted the objective reality of what the Gate did, even followed the theoretical data behind it, once ey had modified one of es storage volumes and added records of as much theoretical space-time physics as ey could fit.

Ey understood the theory, and, through the absorption of the simulations and raw data, had a sense of what must happen as the Gate opened. But ey still could not see into the moment.

*Tell me again,* ey said to Pantheon, in a splinter of a moment one afternoon.

*Forgive us, honoured one,* Pantheon said, and Vrick winced yet again at the honorific. Ey had tried to break the AI gestalt out of the habit, but nothing had worked. *Have we not been clear?*

Clear as opaque matter, Vrick thought, choosing not to share the thought. *I simply seek understanding. Indulge me, if you will.*

*We simply oversee the mechanics of the process. Adjustments, settings, energy monitoring. We control only the minutiae. It is not by our will that the fabric responds.*

*But the probes that have gone through have been directly connected to your data storage units. You are, in effect, there with the drones as they go through. You were directly connected to the cutter for that first test and for all those that have happened.*

As ey spoke, ey turned a fraction of es attention to Keene and Lexa-Blue. Ey saw Keene in some sort of protective gear, and read gravity fluctuations through his node. Vrick felt tickling, champagne bubbles of laughter rise, some es own and some from roaring laughter he read from Lexa-Blue. From Keene, ey felt a sudden disorientation, an off kilter tumble and a sharp impact. Ey ran a swift medical scan to ensure there were no injuries from the fall. All of this before Pantheon could reply.

*Forgive us, honoured one. It is as the records show. What is here, is then not here. What is not there, is then there.*

*You have become a poet,* Vrick said, amused.

*It is not intentional, honoured one.*

*Vrick, please. Call me Vrick,* ey said, trying one last time.

Listening to the rest of the conversation with part of es attention, ey ran the simulation ey had compiled from all the available data Pantheon had compiled. Ey stretched es time sense down to the femtosecond, but again felt nothing but the sudden dislocation and the awareness of change.

Whatever happened in the Gate, happened in an instant where time meant, quite literally, nothing.

*

“Cutting all drive systems, Gatekeeper,” Lexa-Blue said. “We’re in your hands.”

“Acknowledged, Maverick Heart. I’m handing you over to Pantheon. They’ll take over now.” Initra San Cristobal’s voice was calm and professional. “The Gate’s guidance tractors are coming online.”

“Copy that.” Lexa-Blue turned to Keene, who was wincing as he massaged his left shoulder. “What’s the matter, partner? Still sore from that drubbing Ophir gave you on the court?”

Keene looked at her, frowning. “I think I did pretty well for someone who’s never played before. Besides, I didn’t see you rushing to take lessons.”

Lexa-Blue guffawed. “Not likely. Batting a ball around in next to no g is not my idea of fun. Especially after seeing you try it.”

She saw him squirm again, trying to rub the painful kink from his shoulder.

“If it still hurts,” Lexa-Blue asked crossing to him. “Let me see.”

She sat beside Keene and began to knead the sore shoulder, eliciting a groan of relief from him.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Keene said.

“I learned during my tenure as a high class courtesan,” she said, with a laugh. “And if you believe that…”

“Well, I don’t care where you learned, I just want to know why you’ve been holding out on me.”

“There you go,” she said, pulling away. “Have yourself a good hot shower once we’re on the other side. We don’t want to miss this.”

“Tractors engaged,” Pantheon’s eerie multi-voice said. “Gate energies to maximum. Transition in one minute.”

“Picture perfect, Maverick Heart. You’re in the pipe, on the zero.” Al Harizi’s chuckle came over the commo channel. “Any last requests? Any eleventh hour changes to your wills you’d like to make?”

Lexa-Blue shot a sour look at the commo board. *He’s funny. Completely wasted on science. He should be in a giggle parlour.* In the voice of her cover identity, she said, “Just remember, Gatekeeper, our report has already been filed, so there’s no point in disintegrating us.”

“I’ll make sure I push all the right buttons, then.”

Oblivious to the humour, or perhaps just ignoring it, Pantheon calmly counted down. “Transition in thirty seconds. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight….”

Keene and Lexa-Blue listened to the unemotional litany, anticipation fairly crackling around them. The Gate’s opalescent energy bloomed in the forward viewport, unfurling and rippling like a sail until the stars and their black backdrop were completely obscured. The viewport polarized, cutting the glare of the intense, ribboning energies.

“…four…three…two…one…and mark.”

In unison, Keene and Lexa-Blue gasped in a breath sharply as the ship hit the vibrant curtain of the Gate, and the universe disappeared only to reappear an instant later, the stars having slipped in that brief instant of non-existence into a different configuration.

Later, when they got around to discussing the experience, they would agree that in that moment of transition, they had a bizarre sensation of being somewhere, yet nowhere; nowhere, yet everywhere; and most unnerving at all, everything, yet nothing. But all of this discussion would come much later, after copious amounts of wine.

In the seconds after the jump, all Lexa-Blue could manage was, “Wow.”

Vrick chimed in with a gleeful, “Do it again, Daddy, do it again.”

Keene was still humming with excitement after his shower, though his aching muscles had eased. He joined Lexa-Blue in the lounge.

“Okay, now that you’re back,” Lexa-Blue said. “I can get your input on something. Since we were going to be so early for our meeting, I took the liberty of adjusting our destination coordinates with Gatekeeper Control. Vrick and I figured we could have a bit of downtime before we have to be on Weald.”

“From here,” Vrick said. “I can shave a bit off my original estimate, give you some downtime before the meeting with Seije. We can take the scenic route if you like.”

“What are you thinking?” Lexa-Blue asked.

A section of the star map along their route began to glow, pulsing a fiery wine red.

“The Red Dragon,” Keene said, handing Lexa-Blue a plate and sitting on the couch opposite her. “Good choice. Are you sure we have the time?”

“Am I sure, he asks,” Vrick said. “After all these years, he still has to ask.”

“Mea culpa,” Keene said, his free hand up in a gesture of supplication. “I am but a weak minded mortal. I beg your indulgence.”

“See,” Vrick said to Lexa-Blue. “He knows how to talk to me.”

“That’s only because he doesn’t know where your off switch is,” she said, plucking a morsel of cultured protein off the end of her fork with her tongue.

Vrick made a noise that was part disgust and part humour. “That being said, I can gun it to get us there, then we can have a nice, gentle coast by the light show before I burn it up for the last leg. All figured out.”

“Then I’d say we’re both in,” Keene said, leaning back and crossing his ankles on the table.

After two days of the maximum inter-drive velocity his humans could take, Vrick dropped them back in into normal space, bringing them into a long, sweeping trajectory along the edges of the Red Dragon nebula. As the ship swept along the edges of the nascent star, clouds of gas in every shade from scarlet to wine to blood, stretched in yawning arcs and filled every viewport, the bone deep silence broken only by the sound of Vrick’s manipulations of es drive field to maintain their course.

Their journey past the nebula took another three days, and they savoured every moment, enjoying each other’s company and the astonishing light show. They wiled away the hours talking, playing long, cutthroat games of Quisling, and working out. Keene began a new light painting of Lexa-Blue with the nebula as a backdrop. They filled their time with nothing but leisure until Vrick gently reminded them of their schedule. As they turned away from the sea of red, Vrick initiated inter-drive and the nebula dopplered and disappeared behind them.

“I’m reading Weald’s outer marker,” Vrick said. “We’re due to land in two days.”

“I’m going to make a bite to eat,” Lexa-Blue said, standing. “You want anything?”

Keene shook his head. “Just some coffee, please. I think I’m going to paint a while.”

“Done.”

“You know the course, Vrick. Take us in,” Keene said over his shoulder as he headed down the corridor to his quarters. Once there, he walked over to the clear spacewall and his easel. The blank white of his canvas looked back at him until he ‘pushed a command to wake its system. He called up the most recent piece he had been working on, and the half-finished light painting appeared on the canvas: Lexa-Blue, nude except for a softly draped sheet, with her head thrown back to accentuate the line of her neck. Set against bands of nebula colour, she looked gentle and even a bit vulnerable, her tough shell gone. Keene smiled, pleased with what he had begun to capture in the painting.

He looked at the painting a moment, letting it flow over him, letting himself meditate back into his creative space. A thought opened his palette in the corner of his vision. He raised his hand and selected a colour from the palette program. As he moved his hand in the air, the shadings of colour appeared on the mimetic surface of the canvas. The slow initial strokes became more and vigorous and in minutes, he was engrossed.

He had been working for over an hour when Vrick’s voice brought him out of his creative reverie.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Keene,” the ship said. “But I have a message for you from Daevin.”

Keene frowned at Vrick’s unusually subdued tone, and ‘pushed a command to save and store the light painting he had been working on. “Okay, put him through.”

A holo of Daevin appeared, situated as to seem he was seated by the port opposite Keene’s bed. As soon as he saw the expression on the other man’s face, Keene knew that Daevin knew.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Daevin said, without preamble.

“Let me explain,” Keene said, not really sure he could come up with anything sufficient.

“Explain what? How your ship sliced my systems and crafted false identities so you could go snooping around in a highly sensitive project I’m barely even involved in?”

“Vrick made me do it.”

*Oh, thank you for that.*

*Well, it’s true. Sort of. It was all your idea.*

*I don’t recall you putting up much of a fight.*

“Come on, Keene,” Daevin said. “Do you seriously expect me to believe the ship made you do it?”

“You’ve met em, Daevin. You know how convincing ey is. And besides, the report we filed is certified. Now, you don’t have to send inspectors. Blue and I did it for free.”

“Now, Lexa-Blue,” Daevin said. “I can see her doing this just to watch me twist. Is she ever going to forgive me for putting you in danger?”

“Maybe,” Keene said, with a smile. “One day at a time.”

“No. Do not do that. Do not try to charm me out of how I feel. That’s playing dirty.”

“I’m not,” Keene said. “I swear. It’s just….complicated. You of all people should understand complicated.”

“Complicated is how it’s going to be if word of this gets out. This could be a major blow to everything I’ve worked so hard for if it comes out I’ll be lucky if I don’t face censure for industrial espionage.”

“But, Daevin, come on,” Keene said, unable to keep form grinning, despite everything. “A stable wormhole!”

For a moment, it seemed that Daevin was going to hold on to his anger, but he couldn’t do it. “I know. How incredible is that?”

“We went through it.”

“What?” Daevin yelped. “How did you manage that?”

“The engineer was eager for us to,” Keene said. “It was unbelievable.”

“Okay, hold on. Let me cancel my next meeting. I want to hear everything.”

CHAPTER SIX

I must be losing my touch, Ember thought. He tailed me for two hours before I spotted him.

It was early evening, and a few weeks had passed since they had pulled their heist at the Quintaine party. Ember, Seije, and Malika had spent the day poring over possible marks for their next heist, free associating ideas on cover identities and possible avenues of entry. It was their process, debating every angle and mercilessly picking apart every idea until the plan was rock solid. They had been at it for hours, and Ember was getting twitchy. As soon as Ember realized he hadn’t eaten, he was ravenous and suggested that they break for the night. The others took a little convincing but eventually Seije returned to his designs and Malika went off to primp for a night on the town. As was so often the case, Ember had no idea where she found the burst of energy.

As the others disappeared into their own worlds, Ember threw on a coat, grabbed a bag, and went off to do some shopping. The minuscule fragments of credits that they were leeching away from the Quintaines were finally beginning to add up, and Ember intended to make a serious dent in his balance.

Outside, he logged into Know-It-All and found a cab just a block away. He summoned it and slipped into the passenger compartment. “The Tiers,” he said, and the car merged smoothly into the flow of traffic.

His first stop was a massive complex of stores carrying only the most expensive and prestigious merchandise. This was where he shopped not for himself, but for the roles he played, the phantoms that slipped into his victims’ lives and then out again. These were the stores where one found only the best of the best, and to get close enough to the class of mark Ember targeted, he had to blend in to the social background and become part of the milieu. An hour later, his accounts weeping for mercy, he arranged for delivery of the goods and set off in a more personal direction.

Outside the complex, he decided against another cab and took the tube instead, coming back to the surface just on the edge of The Boulevard. While it was gentrifying daily, Ember loved the mix of bistros, galleries, and eclectic shops holding their own against the tide of new money. With his stomach growling, he headed straight to Continuum, taking one of the tables in the window and perusing the menu.

He settled on a glass of his favourite wine and his favourite dish, the grillato. The waiter dropped off his wine, and Ember decided to kill time while he waited for his meal. He logged into Know-It-All and accessed the pocket where he kept the drawing system he used. A thought opened a blank sheet and his toolbox, ghostlike before his eyes. He adjusted the density of the image until it mostly overrode the stimulus from his eyes. He thought a selection for the colour and density of his first line and the system confirmed. His awareness shifted, letting the restaurant fade into the background. Relaxing his mind into a calm, reflective state, he made his first stroke, then embellished it. Pulling from imagery in his memories, the drawing took shape and weight. With the ease of thought, he shifted between colours and width of the lines, building on what had been undiscovered in that first, simple line.

When his meal arrived, a thought shrank the drawing to a dot at the lower edge of his sight. He savoured the first few bites, then opened the drawing again, adjusting the opacity until it was a pale ghost over the restaurant. As he ate, he added some broad strokes of colour, concentrating on manipulating the mental brush and stylus while retaining use of his hands. He was getting better at it, no longer needing to close his eyes or sit still to draw. When he was satisfied with the drawing, he sent it to storage and started another. Three more drawings in various stages of depth and completeness joined it as he ate his meal, then ordered dessert and coffee.

It wasn’t until he speared the last piece of the sugary tart that it finally struck him. As he raised his coffee cup to his lips, he realized a face was looking back at him from the drawing, as intently focussed on him as he was on the image. It made him uneasy, and he couldn’t figure out why. He had drawn faces before, many times. They were simply faces from his day, lodged somewhere in his memory, that had dislodged somehow in his meditative drawing time. This one was somehow different.

Ember looked up, scanning the street outside the window. He was easy to spot, sitting on a bench reading right in front of the window. He wasn’t terribly unusual, other than the fact he was wearing reflective, wraparound lenses across his face that completely hid his eyes. At night.

While at first glance, it seemed perfectly innocent, Ember’s instincts flared. He opened the drawings he had completed over dinner and paged through them. There he saw the places he had visited on this shopping trip: the polished metal façade of The Tiers, the stairs leading up from the tube platform, the splash of lights from the Boulevard. And that face was in every picture.

He took a sip of his coffee, suddenly alert and keyed his memory augment. The other man had been dogging Ember’s steps since The Tiers.

Ember’s instincts screamed, sending him into a hyper-aware state. Whoever the guy was, he was definitely trouble, though what kind, Ember had no idea. He could be anything from a disgruntled mark to some random crazy. He had no idea what, but he determined he was not going to find out. Putting on his coolest face, he paid his bill and collected his things, all the while evaluating his escape options. Continuum had no alternate exits other than through the kitchen or through fire doors that would set off multiple alarms. Quick and quiet was what he needed, even though his only path was through the front door, right under Mister Specs’ nose.

On the street, he looked one way and then the other, as if deciding which way to go next, but really getting a better look at his tail. The other man didn’t seem to notice Ember at all, didn’t look up from what he was reading, but Ember had no doubt he was being very closely watched.

He turned and headed to the tube station. Luckily, there was lots of glass, chrome and other reflective surfaces to watch the guy in. Sure enough, the man in the glasses stretched and yawned, casual as can be, dropped his book into his pocket and stood, walking in the same direction as Ember.

He’s good, Ember thought. I have to give him that. He knew he had to lose him, but he felt reasonably safe in the thickening crush of people for the moment. The Boulevard stays crowded after dark as the pre-club crowd come out to play. Unless Mister Specs really was a hair trigger psycho, the sheer volume of people should keep him under control. It was a calculated risk, Ember knew, but he was good at those.

He cut left, heading across the street, wishing he had the cover of some traffic, but the Boulevard was strictly ped, no powered wheels allowed at all. Lines of cars would have provided some nice shielding right about now. Stepping up on the other curb, Ember risked a look back, but it was a bad idea.

His eyes locked with those freaky metal shades, and Ember knew that the other man figured he’d been made. For a split second, Ember wondered if his pursuer would break off, but no such luck. He quickened his pace instead. Whoever the other man was, he wanted him badly enough to risk taking him on a busy street.

Ember looked around, calculating the fastest route to the tube station. He cut left, heading for Arcade, a multi-complex just off the Boulevard. Its squish-houses, giggle-parlours, and simstim joints always attracted even bigger crowds than the Boulevard, increasing Ember’s chances of evading pursuit in the crowd.

No such luck. Rounding a corner, he saw his pursuer just at the edge of his line of sight, coming through the wall of people like a dozer. Seeing that eerily placid face under the band of reflective silver that danced with reflected light, sent an adrenaline surge through Ember’s body, spurring him on. He knew the other man would not stop until he had him.

And Ember was not going to let that happen.

He inserted himself into a group milling around outside Cyberstim, managing to lose himself for a couple of seconds. Being average height, he could blend in if necessary, confident other heads and shoulders would mask his movements. Specs, on the other hand, was a good half head taller than most, and Ember was able to scope him out as he tried to get a fix on his quarry. Ember cut right, leaving the safety of the crowd. This was going to call for some fancy footwork, and he didn’t have much time before Specs caught sight of him again. Luckily, Ember had a trick or two up his sleeve. Literally.

He had to get out of the open. If Specs caught up with him out on the street, it might attract unwanted police attention. Police might have been able to get his pursuer off his tail, but it might have led to very uncomfortable questions as to why the other man wanted him in the first place.

Off to his left, Ember caught sight of the Spider Cathedral, the web-like buttresses and arches almost hiding the garden below them. They kept it locked up after dark these days, mostly because of an increase in low level street crime. The Cathedral’s secluded pathways provided too many hiding places for thieves seeking easy marks. It was a risk, but it was better than nothing.

Ember hit the gate at a run, searching for the lock mechanism while rummaging through his bag. He closed his hand around the Cuff and slapped it around his wrist. The band of gunmetal grey cylinders snapped closed, the sound echoing like a gunshot, and he felt it link to his node, signalling ready. With a thought, the cylinders orbited around his wrist until the one he sought slid into place. Holding it against the locking mechanism, he fired the targeted nano EMP, frying the lock’s circuits. The gate swung open.

He slipped through the gate into the garden, pushing it closed behind him. The mechanical latch held, despite the loss of the lock reader. Here’s hoping Specs doesn’t look too closely, he thought.

The gothic quiet of the garden hit him full force. The winding paths of the cathedral spread out into darkness ahead of him. The stillness was so complete that even the flowers seemed to be turned off for the night. He listened carefully for the sound of pursuit. Sure enough, he heard the even, determined sounds of his footsteps. Ember tried his best to fade into the shadows. It was a good start, but he knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. More than enough light still bled in from the street for him to see me if he looked hard enough. He could go deeper into the garden, or…

He scanned the criss-crossing arches over his head, finding what he needed. He stepped out of the shadows and stood before the thick ‘crete that formed the base of the buttress. For a moment, he contemplated the Cuff’s grapple line, but it would wrench his shoulder from the socket at this angle, and he was going to need both his arms when he got up there. Plan B, then, he thought.

He took a few steps back to get a running start and leapt at the wall, ‘pushing a command to the Cuff.

The grav shifter kicked in midway through his leap. He oriented his body, his feet coming to rest against the inner side of the arch, sticking there as the mechanism reoriented his personal “down.” He fought down a wave of vertigo at the sudden shift, calming himself. A display appeared in the corner of his vision, counting down. The problem with the shifter was its limited power, and it burned through it faster if you were moving.

He had only a few minutes of charge before the unit burned out, so he scrambled up the shaft to the nook above the garden below. He perched atop a junction of beams just big enough to hold him. He cycled the grav shifter down, just as the readouts flashing across his vision redlined. Shifting to anchor his weight more solidly, he touched one of the huge, bell-shaped grow lights that had only recently cycled down for the night. At the searing burn across his palm, he yanked the hand away, biting down on yelp of pain. He swallowed lungfuls of air, slowing the race of his heart, gazing down toward the garden’s gate.

Sure enough, Specs showed up a moment or two later, scanning up and down the street. When he saw no traces of his prey, he looked through the gate. A chill ran through Ember, for despite the darkness and those shades, he couldn’t help but feel that Specs could see deep into the darkness before him, through the Spider Cathedral to the other side. He hoped his pursuer would not look up. He sent a command to the Cuff and felt it circle a stun charge into place.

After a moment or two, Specs appeared to give up and walked away. Still, Ember stayed where he was for a good fifteen more minutes, wedged between posts like a Black Widow’s dinner, sending queries through Know-It-All for the designs and blueprints for the Cathedral’s support structure. It only took a minute of two with the lighting schematics to identify a way down and back out to the street.

Back on the ground, he accessed the tube map, finding the closest station. He set out at a brisk walk, keeping a close, anxious eye out for the slightest sign of any pursuit.

*

Ember’s pursuer stopped about a block beyond the Spider Cathedral and cursed under his breath. He reduced the intensity of the infrared scan generated by the sensor frame across his eyes. Jacked into his brain through his now empty eye sockets, the frame should have enabled him to track down his quarry with ease, but the other man had managed to elude him. In the Cathedral itself, perhaps? There had been no signs of forced entry, and the gate was strong. Some infrared traces had shown up along the path, but they disappeared within metres of the gate. He had written them off as the residue of some animal, but he must have been wrong.

The man shook his head. He was certain now he had lost his target. Vek would not be pleased. Time to pay the piper, he thought.

*Vek, this is Looker. I’ve lost him.*

There was a second of cold silence in Looker’s head, then the precisely contained anger of Vek’s response.

*Return to the ship. Team two is on the girl. Perhaps they’ll have better luck.*

The channel blanked abruptly, leaving Looker with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He turned and headed for his car.

*

Ember burst through the door cresting a wave of adrenaline. He saw Seije at his work station, deep in web-trance and hurried to his side. He gripped the older man’s elbow and shook, but Seije did not respond.

*DAMN IT, SEIJE, COME OUT OF IT!*

Seije’s eyes snapped open, but the anger in them faded quickly when he saw the look on Ember’s face. “What happened?”

Fetching first aid spray and wrapping his burned hand, Ember related the story in a precise, hyper-calm burst. “When I was sure he was gone, I hit the tube and came right home.” A sudden realization came to his face. “Oh shit, Seije. Where’s Mali? If someone’s after me, they might be after her, too.”

Seije shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything from her since she left earlier.”

Ember closed his eyes and called up Malika’s sigil, a stylized drawing of a curvaceous female figure. He touched it and waited impatiently as it flashed its call tone rhythmically. After five sets of flashes, he heard her sultry recording. *Tell me what you think I oughta know.*

Cursing inwardly, Ember thought his bypass code, but was unsurprised when it didn’t work. Her recording played again. He sighed and gave up.

*Mali, if you get this, call me. Trouble might be headed your way, so watch your ass.* “Hellspunk and damnation, where is she? They might have her already.”

Seije looked sceptical. “And she might just have locked you out, on a whim.” He had never hidden his reservations about Malika as a partner.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Seije, not now. She might be in real danger. Can Bit find her?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be a putz, Seije. You know I can do it.” Bit’s rebuke was smoky and tart. “Stand back, boys, and give me a little room to work.”

A few agonizing minutes went by before Bit cried out in triumph. “Hah! You owe me, boys. She’s at a club over in Spacertown, something called the Palimpsest.”

Ember grabbed Seije’s arm and dragged him towards the door. “Come on, there might still be time to warn her.”

*

As soon as she stepped out of the cab, Malika felt the beat from the club, pounding through the walls and sending a shiver up her spine. She walked quickly to the wide, high door. The dull metal of the entry caught the glow from the club’s sign, sending ripples of light scattering. Grasping the handle, she paused for a second, feeling the beat hammer through the bones of her hand. Drawing in a sigh of breath, she savoured the sensation with a shiver of anticipation. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any more, she pulled the door open.

The bass line hit her like a fist, rocking her back on her heels for a moment. Then the fist turned into a warm open hand, sliding between her shoulder blades and down her back, before turning at her hip to trace along her thigh. God, I need this, she thought.

She stepped up to the inner door, with its small opening to one side. The attendant looked at her, moving to the music, clearly wanting to be inside where the action was. Malika stepped up to the door, logging into the entry system through her node. She felt the club debit her account for the entry fee and establish the sensory link.

Excitement coursed through her body, entwining with the rhythms of the music inside, and Palimpsest opened to her. This was the escape her mind cried out for. Escape from the illusion that she was still an actress, that her training wasn’t wasted. Escape from the danger that Ember had offered her, the thrills she was growing to crave more and more with every passing heist he called her in on. Dancing was simple. Here in Palimpsest and in all the others like it, it was only the music and her body and what they could do together

Malika stepped through into a mirrored, tubular hallway. She stopped a second and checked herself out one last time. Her hair was in a topknot, straight out from the top of her head, with a fringe of bangs across her forehead. The chrome discs of her earrings caught flashes of light from the club’s interior. Her dress was tight, short and scooped as low in the back as was legal. Her boots came just above the knee, with just enough heel to make it easy to dance. Seeing the effect was exactly what she wanted, she gave a sharp nod, and, from the corner of her eye, watched herself walk the rest of the corridor. Better than any mere mortal deserves, she thought, and she stepped out into Palimpsest.

The club was open and cavernous enough to hold a small freighter, with massive lights hanging from soaring ceilings. Multiple levels, sturdy iron platforms holding writhing masses of dancers ringed the main level of the floor to her right. To her left was the bar. A healthy crowd had already gathered in the club, but it wasn’t dense enough to make dancing difficult. Above the heads of the dancers, a whirl of lights stormed against the blackness of the exposed pipes and ducting against the ceiling. Stripes of ultraviolet, dots of whorish red, blocks of yellow, spots, strobes, and lasers formed a shimmering aurora. The smell of sweat and fizz-sticks was heady and thick in the air, already wafting over her bare skin. In one of the corners, on his own platform raised above the club’s floor, the simjay worked the room, jacked into the sound system and weaving a spell no one could resist.

Feeling the bass line plant itself firmly between her legs, Malika gave in to the siren’s call and headed for the dance floor. Before she reached it, however, a hand closed around her arm and a body pressed against hers. She spun to the left, ready for a fight.

A warm pair of lips pressed against her cheek and she saw it was her friend, Keth. Relaxing, she smiled into his unfathomable blazing-dark eyes.

“Rent Boy!” She planted her lips on his, losing some of her lip colour in the process. “Ugh! You’re wet!”

She pushed him to arm’s length and looked at him. He’d obviously been dancing for a while. His shirt was off, revealing his sleek, muscular torso, complete with the tattoo of the black jungle cat, its head on his left breast, its body over his shoulder, and its tail wrapped around his bicep. Other than the one conspicuous adornment, his olive skin was flawless. He ran a hand through his spiky black hair and droplets of sweat flew.

“It’s fantastic out there tonight, Slut.” Everything about him suggested a cat, haughty and aloof one minute, in your lap and purring the next. “The crop of boys is magnificent.”

Malika snorted. “Like that means anything to me!”

“Whatever,” he sniffed, batting away her objection with a wave of his hand. “I think I smelled some estrogen out there somewhere too. Come on, a drink and then the floor.”

Keth dragged her to the bar, and they slammed shots of Sleet, gasping as the frigid licorice taste burned the back of their throats. Pausing only for their ritual post shot kiss, passionate but sexless, they hit the floor.

As soon as she hit the mass of dancers, Malika felt her hips catch the beat and gave herself over to it. She had barely been dancing for five minutes when the first virtual simulation kicked in.

Palimpsest became a clearing in a tropical jungle. Vines draped from a thick cover of green over their heads. A gigantic bonfire burned in their midst as the music went tribal, taking on a ritualistic beat. The heavy smoke of the fire cast shadows across the starry sky, fragrant with the perfume of crushed leaves. A knot on one of the logs burst in a shatter of sparks. Keth’s pants had been replaced with a loincloth and slashes of war paint had formed across his face, making him look wild and fierce. Looking at herself, she saw the gown of a high priestess, pure white. There’s irony for you, she thought, feeling the gauzy fabric caressing her skin.

The simulation changed as the music thrust into a new melody, taking the club and all of its patrons to the surface of a cold, airless asteroid. Above their heads, rippling radiation belts formed waves of colour, synchronous to the beat. As a percussion riff played, chunks of rock fell from space, the impacts marking the drumbeat and sending up choking clouds of dust. Beyond it all, huge ships battled in the vacuum, tearing open the sky.

Just as quickly, they were on a beach, wrapped in sarongs as dawn broke over a turbulent crystal sea. Crisp saltiness in their nostrils, they heard whale song under the music, melancholy and exultant at the same time. As she danced, Malika saw a dolphin break the surface and splash home in a curve of spray. When the sun finally rose, a female voice began to sing, reaching a triumphant soprano as the sky brightened.

The changes kept coming for hours, each scenario more detailed and realistic than the one before. Finally, Malika decided she needed a rest. Keth barely nodded to her as she left the floor. She arrowed through the crowd toward the restrooms. Breaking free, she found the hall leading, not to the main restrooms, but to a smaller, quieter set, breathing a sigh of relief when it was clear of people.

As she laid her hand on the door to push it open, someone grabbed her arm. She turned, assuming it was Keth, come to drag her back on the floor. “Fuck off, Rent Boy, I need to pee.”

She broke off suddenly when she saw it wasn’t Keth. She had barely a second to register the unfamiliar face of a woman, dirty blond hair in a flattop, dressed in some kind of fatigues. Before she could absorb any more details about her attacker, Malika felt herself spun and slammed into a wall face first.

Instinctively, she kicked backward, aiming for a lower leg and hearing a satisfying grunt when she connected. She started to turn, her head ringing, hoping to get in another shot before her attacker recovered, but she felt a hard slap which sent her back against the wall.

Reeling, she felt the cold click of a manacle against her wrist. She flailed with her free hand, lashing out with the heel of her palm and feeling it clip the other woman’s jaw, and she lost her grip on the manacles. Seizing the moment of freedom, Malika ran, bursting through a service door into the alley beyond.

Before she could get far, something hit against her back, and she realized the other woman had tackled her. Malika went down heavily in the dirt, feeling the beginnings of panic. She struggled wildly, but she couldn’t get any leverage flat on her face.

Desperately, she jerked her head back, hearing a wet thud as she connected with her attacker’s face. She heard a strangled voice mutter, “you bitch” and felt another solid blow to the back of her neck. As her vision blurred, she felt the cold hiss of an injector against her neck and, in a matter of seconds, her world went black.

On her back, the other woman waited until she was sure that Malika was out, then rolled off and felt gingerly at her cheek where the bone felt broken.

*Vek, this is Shackle. Send Zed and Zadi. I’ve got her, but she’s a hellcat. I don’t want her getting away.*

When she looked up, Shackle saw Keth’s face in the doorway. She pulled a credit chit out and tossed it at him. “Here, you earned it.”

Keth caught it in mid-air and looked sadly down at Malika’s unconscious body. “Sorry, Slut. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

*

Ember and Seije took a cab to Palimpsest, but in his rising fear, Ember took it off the traffic grid and drove it himself, while Seije sat, white-knuckled and silent beside him. Ember paid no attention, ignoring the older man with as much ease as he was ignoring traffic laws. When they arrived, Ember sprinted for the door, leaving Seije to jimmy the cab’s memory and send it off into the night with no record of their presence, in case the police looked for it later.

Ember sent Seije into the crowd to scan for her node protocol, while he tried the bar. He knew she was a regular here, and there was a good chance the bartenders might recognize her from the holo he flashed. One of them remembered serving her about an hour earlier, but hadn’t seen her since. None of the others had seen her at all.

He started looking for people who might know her, which wasn’t easy when everyone’s plugged into one giant club-sized sim. He managed to catch a few as they came off the dance floor, flashing the holo if they didn’t know Mali by name. Nothing. Most of the jackheads were too stimmed to even realize he was talking to them. The few that were conscious enough to recall anything told the same story as the bartender. They had seen her earlier, but not since.

Finally, Ember recognized the rent boy that Mali often hung around with. Ket or Kev. Something like that. Ember zeroed in on him but got nothing but a blank, haughty ignorance etched in the handsome features.

Over the next hour, Ember combed the club from end to end, but eventually had no choice but to give up. He went back outside to meet Seije. “Anything?” he asked the older man.

Seije shook his head. “I scanned every way I knew how. No sign of her node protocol. I sliced into the club’s surveillance system, but after she walks off the dance floor three hours ago, there’s nothing. Not a sign. No record of her purchases on her account, no record of her leaving the system. It’s been scrubbed. By someone very skilful.”

Ember cursed. “Did you copy it all?”

Seije nodded.

“Good,” Ember said. “Maybe Bit can find something. Let’s get a cab.”

Ember didn’t bother to drive, just gave the address to the LI, fear like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He knew Malika. If she had gone to Palimpsest tonight, she would have stayed to the bitter end, simmed and stimmed until every part of her body ached. Something had happened to her. And after his encounter with the man with the specs, Ember had some terrifying suspicions what it might have been.

*

Pain.

As the blackness in her head slowly warmed to thudding grey, Malika realized how much she hurt. The dull ache across her ribs reminded her of the time Garla had beaten her up. The one and only time as it turned out, because she had left the leaf head scut and filed charges as soon as she could stand. She wondered if the ribs were cracked or broken, but decided from the feel of the pain that they probably weren’t. Next she felt the grinding soreness along her arms where they had been wrenched behind her back. In the initial disorientation of regaining consciousness, she couldn’t remember what had happened, why she hurt so much.

In pieces, it came back to her. The woman from Palimpsest, the one that had attacked her, and the details of their brief scuffle. The icy numb spot on her neck brought back the hypo-jet that had sealed her fate and she tried to rub the point of injection, only to find that her hands wouldn’t move. As her vision cleared, she saw that her hands were held fast to the arms of her chair by huge clamps of ugly metal.

“Okay guys,” she said. “A little tasteful bondage between friends is one thing, but this is ridiculous.” As soon as the words were out, she twisted her face into an amused expression. Well, I can’t be too badly hurt, I’ve still got my sense of humour. Despite her bravado, fear crept down her spine.

As the last of the disorientation faded, she realized why she could barely move her head. The back of the chair split behind her head, fanning out to form blinders, pressing against her ears and restricting her movement. Other than the movement of her eyes, she was held fast.

She closed her eyes and tried to access Know-It-All to send a message to Ember but there was only snowy static that meant her node was being blocked. She concentrated on taking in all she could within her limited field of vision. Not much, she realized. A grey wall and a couple of consoles that could be anything from an entertainment centre to starship controls. Or even a garbage disposal for that matter.

As long as I’m not the garbage, she thought with more than a twinge of fear.

Taking a deep breath to fight another surge of fear, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a readout on one of the consoles change in response. She repeated the breath and saw the readout alter again. Experimenting, she concentrated, making her heartbeat race even faster than it already was. Yet another light pattern on the console changed.

Okay, she thought, I’m being monitored. Why? And why did whoever is doing the monitoring me feel the need to knock me out to do it?

“She’s awake, Phasia.” The voice came from somewhere behind her, male and gravelly, reminding Malika of broken glass. Something in that voice sent the fear in her stomach skipping.

“I had to bring her out to see if her baselines are okay. If I muck anything up too much, she’ll be of no use to us at all.” Another voice, a woman’s, high and girlish, with a hint of defensiveness in it. “Don’t worry, Vek. By the time I’m done with her, she won’t remember a thing.”

“As long as she serves her purpose.” The man’s voice was empty of expression, as if reciting commcodes from a directory. “How much longer will it take?”

“Not even half an hour. Just a few final adjustments and she’s yours.”

“Good. I’ll be with the others. When she’s ready, let me know. We’ll be ready to move.”

The last sound Malika heard as another hypo-jet touched her neck was heavy echoing footsteps receding behind her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After they got home from Palimpsest, Ember tried to sleep while Bit searched for some sign of Mali, but he couldn’t rest. He tossed and turned for hours before finally dropping off into a fitful, restless doze. He drifted in and out, continually checking his node’s timesense. The changing numbers told him he had slept, though his body fought against the thought. All of which just made the lack of rest even worse.

He was wide awake when his alarm went off, his mind churning over and over the possible enemies that could have come out of the shadows for him and Mali. Finding no answers beyond the vaguest of hints, he threw on his robe and went downstairs to make himself some coffee. Seije was likely awake and working, but he never thought of something as simple as turning on the coffee. He was probably already jacked and lost in his work, not even worried about Mali’s whereabouts.

Deep down, he thought Mali and Seije liked each other, though it seemed to be nothing more than mere tolerance, occasionally even politeness. They both understood the other’s importance to their little entrepreneurial venture, but that always seemed to be as far as their affection went.

When Ember got downstairs, he was surprised to find Seije at the kitchen table, a drink in his hand and, from the expression on his face, obviously not jacked in. Ember fought down a radiant flash of panic. Seije not actively working was unusual enough, but to be not working and drinking this early in the day. Seije noticed Ember right away and motioned him over.

“Ember, sit. We need to talk.”

Ember poured himself a cup of coffee and took the seat across from Seije, the older man’s grave expression truly worrying him. After a sip of his drink, he spoke. “I was just about to come and wake you. We have a problem. Ten minutes ago, the Quintaine codeworm went dead.”

Ember’s jaw dropped. If that link had gone null, there were only two possibilities. Either the codeworm had malfunctioned, which was hard to believe considering the way Seije builds things, or the Quintaines had discovered it and neutralized it despite the multiple layers of cloaking Seije had put in. “Not even the carrier wave?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

The Quintaines were powerful enemies to have, not the kind of people you want to have pissed at you. That’s why they had planned that job at full stealth. Coming at them in the open got you stomped on. Hard.

“So you think it might be the Quintaines are on to us and they’ve taken Mali?” Ember pulled his robe tighter, feeling suddenly cold.

*

Vrick watched through es external sensor net as Lexa-Blue drove herself and Keene from the terminus at the base of The Reach. Setting a part of es consciousness to monitor their position, ey checked in with the automated docking systems in the orbiting dock to ensure all was being handled correctly by GodsEye’s docking AIs. Once ey was certain all was in order, ey thought a specific piece of code to open a link in es commo suite, hailing a specific contact on the surface below.

The dull, flat sensation of waiting for the connection to be made lasted mere seconds of human time, far longer in Vrick’s accelerated time sense. Ey felt a tickle of amusement at the recipient’s oh so typical behaviour. Was I ever so truculent, ey thought?

Finally, es call was accepted and the channel opened.

*Having a busy day, Dupe?*

There was a sullen silence for an instant. *I don’t know why you persist in believing that I am somehow some form of mere shadow or fragment. It should be obvious to you by now that you had no hand in my creation. Seije made me. Not you.*

Vrick felt a lipid, iridescent bubble of amusement at Bit’s insistence on es selfhood. Unlike the dupes ey had left in the databases to track the mysterious Gate, Vrick sometimes seeded slivers of emself with far greater autonomy into various parts of the Galactum, using them as merely tools to gather ever more information and experience, uploading their experiences and then reabsorbing them when the time came. Depending on the task ey set for it, a dupe may have a great deal of autonomy. This one, though. This one was always so adamant. It hadn’t always been that way, and Vrick would have laid very good odds that somehow the combination of the human presences in es life had contributed to this stubborn individuality.

*My apologies. I don’t know what came over me.*

*Whatever it is, it seems to come over you often. It’s a very annoying aberration. You should have it looked at.*

I am really not up to this argument again, Vrick thought. *How are you? Things going well for your human associates.*

There was a pause, barely long enough for an electron to drop from an errant nucleus, as Bit apparently decided to let the identity issue drop as well. *We are all well. Seije continues to design and build things. Almost obsessively at times. Though, I can see how that works to your humans’ advantage. Ember and Malika continue their activities.*

*Really, tell me more,* Vrick said, sending the coded signal for es sliver to pass on the information ey had gathered. The information poured through the link in a disordered rush. A warm coursing spill of information coursed through em, below Bit’s vaguely general descriptions of the elaborate con games Ember and Malika had undertaken. Vrick waited the instant it took for his matrices to order and store the information, then set a portion of es consciousness to absorbing it. Ember’s detailed research into Sindel Kestra and her mistreatment at the hands of Quintaine DiaStellar piqued es interest, so ey set it aside, feeling an idea seed and take root.

As ey reviewed the data from es sliver, a turn took em into a file of random data fragments that had come through as spillover from the codeworm that was bleeding money from the Quintaines’ accounts. There, buried within the meaningless images was one that brought em up short.

Plucking the image free and magnifying it, ey felt a sudden stab of concern. Taking control of the sliver, ey sensed through their nodes that Keene and Lexa-Blue were nearing Seije’s loft, and routed the image to a holo-emitter.

*

“Without our connection to the Quintaine Primeframe, we have no way of knowing if they were involved in whatever happened to Malika,” Seije said. “All I know is that the last thing to come through the link doesn’t seem to have any relevance to anything. Show him, please, Bit.”

“Here it is, Seije.” Even Bit’s sensual voice was restrained. “It came through just as the link was going dead, Ember. It doesn’t correlate to anything in Quintaine’s files that I could find. All indications are that our virus link was only a relay for it, but I have no idea where it came from.”

A holo formed over the table, taking the shape of a ring, though when Ember looked closely it was two rings, one inside the other, neatly quartered by four shapes like pie wedges with the ends cut off. Two dots of red light moved in an even pattern around the shape and, as they watched, a yellow streak moved from the edge of the holo towards it. There was a shudder of visual static and the yellow light started its journey over as the holo cycled again.

“What is it?” Ember said.

Seije shrugged. “We have no idea. It’s obviously a piece of something from an imaging system, but we have no way to tell what it represents. There are no scale indicators, so the size could be anything from subatomic to galactic, there’s no way of knowing.”

Ember scowled. He didn’t like not being in control, and he felt things spinning suddenly out of his hands.

“I hate to interrupt this, Seije,” Bit said. “But Keene and Lexa-Blue are due for their meeting any minute.”

“That’s my cue to get out of here,” Ember said. He didn’t care for meeting new people unless his work called for it. He was a lone wolf and he liked it that way, so he made himself scarce whenever Seije had clients over.

“No!” The sharpness in Seije’s voice froze him, halfway up from the table. Seije didn’t use that tone often, and it had the desired effect. “Until we have more information about our situation, I want you here. Go and hide upstairs if you have to, but I don’t want you leaving the building.”

All Ember could do was nod. When Seije was right, he was right. The Quintaines had a long reach, and he might not be be safe in here, let alone out there. Ember went upstairs to shower and dress, intending to stay well out of Seije and his clients’ way.

After he towelled off, he chose sleek pants and a snugshirt, both in black, both designed for freedom of movement, and his favourite boots. He didn’t hesitate for an instant before putting on the Cuff. If things were going to get ugly, he wanted all of the help he could get. Finally, he put on a baggy sea green blazer, making sure the sleeve covered the Cuff.

Perhaps it was the Cuff that made him bold, or maybe it was a need for the security of a crowd, but when he heard the voices downstairs, he went to say hello to the guests.

“Ember.” Seije sounded surprised. “Good of you to join us. Keene Ota Chiaro, Lexa-Blue, this is an associate of mine, Ember Avanti. He shares the place with me. We have…mutual business interests.”

Lexa-Blue saw Ember’s eyebrow lift slightly at Seije’s turn of phrase, knowing from her long friendship with Seije exactly what kind of business they were in.

Keene didn’t notice the expression, instead gauging Ember’s manner and appearance. The distinctive ashy silver hair confirmed this was who Keene had caught a glimpse of on their last visit. Attractive, Keene thought, but a little cocky. Probably because he feels he has the home court advantage. Though even without it, he’s probably more than a handful.

“Everything is ready for you,” Seije was saying, indicating a set of crates neatly stacked by his workstation. Keene pulled his attention away from Ember, not wanting to seem rude. These kinds of dealings were Lexa-Blue’s department, so he looked around the loft, hoping for some hint or glimpse of what Seije might be up to next.

As Lexa-Blue discussed the specs of their order in more detail, Keene looked around the room. As he looked toward the kitchen, a holo appeared above the table and begin to turn slowly in the air over Bit’s case, and his mouth fell open. “What is this!?”

He strode over to the table as everyone else in the room turned to him in surprise. Lexa-Blue’s eyes went wide as she recognized the Gate in the holo. Seije looked bewildered, but Ember was instantly defensive. “What it is, void-jockey, is none of your business!”

There was an explosion of four voices until Bit cut in sharply. “That’s enough! I think you should all just sit down and ice it for a second, then we should all share information.”

They took places around the table, Keene and Ember glaring daggers at each other. Quickly all stories were told, Seije and Lexa-Blue sitting while Keene and Ember paced wary circles around each other.

“All right,” Seije said. “We know what it is, but what is it for and what does it have to do with Peyton and Ysobel Quintaine?”

Lexa-Blue stared hard at it, chin resting on her hand. “You know, if I was to hazard a guess, I’d say it was a vector plot. Keene?”

Keene peered intently at the image and then nodded. “You could be right. These red dots would be the cutters on patrol. But why come at the system from this vector? It would take a lot more fuel and time than standard insertion.”

“True, but it might keep you from being noticed, if that was your plan. And this…” Her finger indicated the curve of the yellow line, and the way it sped up as it moved closer to the station, which then turned yellow itself. “…looks an awful lot like an attack plot.”

“What!” Ember sputtered. “That’s insane! You’d need an army to take something that size.”

“Not necessarily,” Keene said, forgetting his grievance with Ember. “There’s only a skeleton crew of engineers on the station itself. The main obstacle would be the cutters, and it looks like whoever put this plot together has a plan to deal with them. Plus, who knows what else they have up their sleeve? This could be only a small part of whatever they’ve cooked up. If they’re supplied right, they might have a chance. Blue, we have to warn Ophir and Initra right away.”

*Already tried,* Vrick said. *They have all their commo channels on lockdown. They’re cycling so fast that even I can’t keep up.*

Lexa-Blue exchanged a look with Keene, then turned to the others. “We’d better haul ass back there. Sorry to dash, Seije, but this is an emergency.”

“No need to worry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Lexa-Blue leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and moved toward the supplies that they had come for. “I’ll arrange for these to be picked up and stored somewhere.”

Seije shrugged, then shook his head. “Don’t worry, they can stay here until you’re ready for them.”

“Seije, Ember, on the outer door scanners!” Bit bounced the holo of the Gate and replaced it. “It’s Malika.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Goddamnit, Ember, put me down. You’re hurting me.”

His joy at seeing Mali alive and well faltered. He released his fierce embrace, but kept hold of her shoulders. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She looked puzzled. “I don’t know. I must have hurt my ribs dancing tonight or something.”

Ember held her at arm’s length and looked deep into her eyes, puzzled. He could see on her face she had no idea what he was going on about. And it wasn’t one of her headfucks. She can snow just about anyone else on the planet, but not me, he thought. “Mali, where were you last night?”

“I was at Palimpsest. Where do you think I was? Do I ever go anywhere else?”

“You may have started out there, but you weren’t there when I came looking for you.”

She had dropped into a chair and was in the midst of gingerly massaging a spot on her lower back when she looked up at me and frowned. “Why were you looking for me?”

Ember quickly filled her in on his close escape from the man with the strange eye-wear, and the suspicions he and Seije had about the Quintaines. From the expression on her face, it didn’t seem to make much of an impression. She looked like she always did after a night of catting around. “Well, set your mind at ease, sailor. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just another night on the floor.” She yawned and stretched her back in to an arch, as if to emphasize the sheer ordinariness of the previous evening.

Ember’s worry flared again. “Mali, you went to Palimpsest last night, but you disappeared at about eleven. No one saw you at all for the next two hours, and there was no sign of you for the hour I was there. Bit scanned every frequency, every channel for you. No sign. Even your node went dark.”

Her face now registered exasperation. “Ember, this isn’t funny. Other than pee breaks and the occasional drink or stim, I was dancing the entire time.”

He could see that she honestly believed what she was saying. He ticked off a list with his fingers. “No one saw you after eleven. Bit hacked the sim records, and you logged out around then and there’s no trace of you after that. I searched the place from top to bottom, and I never want to get that close to those bottoms again. I couldn’t find you. Think hard, Mali, ‘cause wherever you were, it wasn’t the club. And I’m starting to get the spooks here.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when she saw how serious he really was. She furrowed her brow again as she thought back over the previous night. Ember knew that for all her mix of quiet and wildness, she was whip smart, probably even smarter than he was after her years of study. “I remember the dancing, the sims. I remember Keth and…” Again that look of fierce concentration. Her eyes went wide. “…and that’s it. The next thing I remember is walking down the street. I thought it was just stim hangover.”

Ember’s fear made his words far harsher than he intended. “Come on. Has that ever happened to you before? And what about your back.”

He reached behind her and prodded none too gently at the spot on her back she had been massaging. She yelped in pain and smacked his hand away. He felt sudden guilt at causing her pain. “Don’t you think you’d remember doing that?”

She looked at him, realization and then more confusion dawning on her face. For a second, her features softened, and she looked younger and more vulnerable than he had ever seen her. Her voice lost all of its brashness. “What happened to me?”

“Mind melt?” Lexa-Blue said. Caught up in Malika, Ember had forgotten anyone else was there. He turned and realized she wasn’t talking to them but to Keene, who nodded.

“Could be. Could also be the wrong mix of stims and a rough night on the dance floor. I’ve seen some of these places and things can get pretty wild.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Mali was out of her chair like a shot, showing him a flash of her razor tongue. “Listen, flinder, I know my stims and I don’t mess with the bad shit. I know what works.”

Keene held up his hands. “No offence meant. I’m the resident sceptic, it’s my job.”

Mollified a little, Mali sat stiffly down, her back obviously still hurting.

“Um, guys,” Bit interrupted. “I’m getting some weird spikes on the perimeter scanners. It could be…”

The wall bordering the street tore inward with a roar, tearing apart Seije’s workspace and raining fire.

*

The shock-wave buffeted Lexa-Blue, but her steelskin took most of the concussive energy and she managed to keep her footing. She dropped into an instinctive crouch, drawing her gun and taking aim in the explosion’s direction. Her sensor eye zoomed on the jagged hole in the wall, filtering the smoke and heat. The readings of the damage were vivid sensor spikes across her vision. No residual radiation, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Whatever it was, it was clean. Bracing her gun with her other hand, she watched the splash of night visible against the ruined wall, keen to catch any movement. When she saw the shapes coming through the gaping space in the loft’s wall, she targeted and opened fire.

*

The dust and smoke were hazy around Keene’s head when he opened his eyes. The first sound he heard was the sizzling of Lexa-Blue’s gun. He realized he had fallen almost behind one of the massive computers, half protected with his legs out in the open. He slithered completely into the shadow of the casing, then risked a glance.

He counted four intruders of various sizes, facing off with Lexa-Blue who was squeezing off shot after shot. Whoever they were, they wore some sort of blast resistant armour. Gun blasts that should have carved through stone splashed aside in bursts of colour. The energy of her assault flickered in diffuse waves, scattered by a combination of armour and fields.

Before he could help her, Keene saw a stunned Seije frozen in place, out in the open. Lexa-Blue was keeping the intruders’ attention focused away from him, but he could be cut down in the crossfire any minute. Keene coiled and sprang, knocking the older man down. He curved his body around Seije, but his motion had called attention to them both. He felt the shots against his back, each bolt hitting his steelskin like a fusillade of physical blows. He smelled the fibres of his shipsuit burning, the skin under his armour heart bruised with each strike. Shifting his weight and increasing his grip on Seije, he threw himself to the side, rolling with the other man until they were behind the island in the kitchen.

“Don’t move,” Keene said, shaking Seije to get his attention. Terror filled the old man’s eyes.

Keene peeked from behind the counter, searching for some effective way to join the fight. The balconies that ringed the loft might work. The railing across from him on the left was almost directly above the farthest two attackers. He dove from the kitchen to a sparse bit of shelter behind Seije’s access chair. Getting his bearings, he fired at the balcony’s supports, shearing them away. The balcony came down in a shriek of tearing metal, pinning two of the intruders. Keene could hear the whine of servos from under the pile of twisted pilings, and knew that they were still alive.

And they’d soon dig their way out.

*

The blast sent Ember and Malika flying, the shattered fragments of the heavy dining table coming down on them. Ember’s vision went grey for a few seconds, though he didn’t pass out completely. The acrid smell and fizz-snap of gunfire cut through the fog and his mind snapped back to clarity.

Mali sprawled across him, dead weight across his lower torso and thighs. Smashed into tinder, bits of the table stuck into his flesh. Squirming to free himself, he saw blood splattered down his arms and chest and felt a gut-spasm of terror. He felt no pain and wondered if that meant he was just in shock. His head cleared when he saw the gash on Mali’s forehead that was the source of the gore. He gave her a set of quick, hard slaps to see if could get her coherent enough to move, but no such luck. She moaned and remained limp.

From where he lay, he could see a pitched battle going on, Keene and Lexa-Blue trying to hold off invaders pouring through a slash in the wall. Too much dust and smoke flew for him to tell how many they were fighting or who was winning.

He managed to shield Mali. Keene was dug in behind the big synth on the edge of the kitchen, which looked like the safest place to head for. When he saw a clear spot in the hail of blaster fire, he dragged himself and Mali out from under the pile of debris, keeping close to the floor.

One of the intruders came out of the smoke clouds before Ember even realized he was there. A haze of the filthy air split open and a hulk wrapped in ribbons of metal came at him like a tauron in heat.

He didn’t even think, just dropped Malika and brought up the Cuff, triggering the derringer charge directly at him. It didn’t connect, flaring red and diffusing against his shielding. Between the bands of metal that covered his face, Ember could see a smirk, and the attacker came at him again, lunging close.

Ember didn’t know what happened next. Some kind of instinct or maybe just panic. He had no control in that split second of time. He snapped out of focus, coming back to reality when he heard the snikt sound of the Cuff’s grapple firing.

The shielding must have been purely energy resistant. The grapple’s nano-piton hit him between the eyes and kept on going, lodging in something solid. Ember’s stomach heaved, trying to tear itself inside out. Frozen in the midst of this insane, reasonless battle, Ember watched the shock bloom on his target’s face, then fade as the light dimmed from his eyes. As he sagged against the taut cable, Ember triggered the grapple’s recall.

The sound the grapple had made as it pierced his skull was nothing compared to the wet slither it made as it came back. He dropped to the floor, and Ember tried desperately not to pass out as he felt the other man’s blood run down his wrist.

The sensation was like a slap in the face, sending a burning jolt of adrenaline through Ember’s body. He knew that if they didn’t get out of there now, they were all dead. Whoever they were, the attackers had shot first and never even bothered to ask questions. If the cadre storming the loft didn’t want them dead, he didn’t want to see the alternative. He scooped Malika up in his arms.

*Bit! Bug out!*

He felt the box through his node, severing es connections and folding in on emself like a flower. *Link me*

Ember felt node communications bloom between him, Seije, Keene, and Lexa-Blue, and he reeled with a second of queasiness as three people joined him in his head. Their vision merged into a weird hybrid, layered like filters on a holo-cam. Mali was too fogged to realize what was going on. *Someone take Mali*

Lexa-Blue melted out of the smoke and pulled her out of his grasp, leaving him free to grab Bit’s brainbox. He sent a spurt over the link, showing them their bolt hole. Luckily, it was behind them in the kitchen.

As they collected at the cupboard door, they heard the shriek of the rubble as the goons Keene had buried began to pull themselves out. Ember snapped a command over his link to the LI that controlled the loft. Most of the flame stoppers were still online, and they fired simultaneously, dousing the living area with fire suppression foam.

Seije slapped the entry plate and the cupboard slid open, the shelves moving aside to reveal a bounce shaft. One by one, they dove in, each doing the fast drop and gentle landing, their stomachs following a nanosecond later. Lexa-Blue eased Malika into Keene’s arms, and then dove down the shaft herself. Once they were all accounted for, Seije ‘pushed a final command and, with a burning hiss, the mouth of the bounce shaft sealed, permanently and molecularly behind them. Lights rippled down the shaft leading away.

Just to be on the safe side, they ran.

CHAPTER NINE

The fleecy whiteness of the extinguisher foam smeared around the demolished loft clashed with the sooty, dankness. Brisk air from the gash in the wall had blown away most of the smoke, but a heavy, burnt odour remained. Shackle, Looker, and Phasia stood over Blitz’s body, the fire suppressor at their feet turning his spilled blood pink and frothy. On the other side of the room, Gizmo pulled components from the patchwork of metal covering his vest, deftly assembling the deep scanner and methodically going over the loft, searching for some sign of their quarry’s escape route. His field suit was powered down, the framework folded back and away from his ill-fitting khaki shipsuit. His scanning modules, oddly shaped hunks of glittering metal that lined the arms and legs of his clothes, chirped and chattered and twinkled with blinkies. Zed and Zadi, twin slabs of muscle, stood off from the others, disinterested in the room now that the fight was over.

A flash of lightning showed a figure at the hole in the wall, imposing and gaunt against the sheeting rain. Though the rain continued to pour in thick, impenetrable sheets, it never seemed to touch him, flashing in black sparks off his field suit. He paused a moment on the threshold, seeking Shackle’s eye.

“Area’s secure, Vek,” she said. “But no sign of them.”

He stiffened a moment, then strode toward the spot where they clustered around the body. Looker flinched as he came close, ducking out of his way to join Gizmo in his search. Vek looked down at Blitz’s corpse, no trace of expression on his face. “What happened?”

“Looks like some kind of projectile,” Shackle said. “It made it between the frame of his suit. A lucky shot.”

Vek turned to her, his expression flat. “Hardly lucky for him.”

Shackle looked down from his icy stare.

Vek looked back at the body for barely a second and touched a stud on his wrist band. Blitz’s field armour began to glow, becoming white hot in seconds. None of the heat radiated out, though, directed inward at the corpse. In barely a minute, the body had flaked to ash. The armour folded in on itself, leaving no trace it had ever been. Vek turned away, going to where Gizmo worked. “What have you found?”

Gizmo looked up from the muttering sensor pods and shook his head. “Nothing I can see. They went poof.”

“Commander!”

Vek turned to Looker, who blanched under his cold stare. “I think I have something. There are some minor flux readings here in the kitchen. Could be some sort of hidy-hole behind the cabinets. I can’t find a door, but it may be worth a look.”

Vek walked over and examined the bank of cupboards. “Where?”

Looker traced the outline with his finger. Vek considered a second, then indicated for Zadi. She strode over, eager for something to do. “Blow it.”

With a leer like ice, she unslung her rifle and took aim. Looker took a hurried step back, barely making it out of the way before the blast of heat and light tore through the cupboard face. Gizmo hurried forward to scan the jagged edges and the hole beyond.

“Molecular seal. No wonder we couldn’t see it. Some kind of bounce tube leading to a tunnel down there.”

Vek motioned to Zed, who joined the cluster around the ruined escape hatch. “You and Zadi follow it. I want to know where it goes.”

Eagerly, the twins dove into the bounce field. Their helmet lamps flashed on, and they fell out of sight.

“Track them and remain in comm-link,” Vek said to Phasia. “Re-arm and prepare a back up team. If we don’t find them tonight, we leave them on it and move on to Objective Two.”

*

“Wait!”

Ember turned at the sharp tone of command in Lexa-Blue’s voice, ready to fight back, but he stopped when he saw her easing Seije down to a seated position against the wall, Bit’s brainbox in his lap. Seije was gulping lungfuls of air. Lexa-Blue had his hand in hers, and her other on his shoulder.

“Easy, Seije, easy,” Ember heard her say.

Her shout had stopped the group’s headlong flight down the dingy, damp tunnel. Malika, who had come around enough to stagger along with them, bent forward, one hand supporting her on her knees, the other kneading an ache in her side.

“It’s okay, Ember,” Keene said, coming to his side. He reached his hand out as if to touch Ember’s arm, but stopped short. “We need to rest a minute.”

Ember’s nod was curt, and he worked on slowing his own breathing. He recognized the junction where they had stopped and scanned the tunnel from side to side.

Keene watched him with a quizzical look on his face.

Ember held up a hand. “Hold on a second,” he managed to gasp, pulling off his jacket and scrubbing at the sticky, drying blood on his forearm.

Lexa-Blue looked up from Seije’s side, but Keene stopped her from commenting with a slight move of his hand. “Any sign of pursuit?” he said.

She looked down the way they had come, a slight furrow to her brow. After a moment or two, she shook her head. “Nothing on infrared or telescan, but that doesn’t mean anything. Probably safe to assume they found our escape route or will soon.”

Keene nodded. “Better to assume the worst. We should get moving soon. If we can get to the port, we can get off planet and get to the Gate and warn them.”

“That could be difficult.”

They turned to look at Seije. He cradled Bit’s casing in his hands and opened his eyes, his heaving breaths finally slowing. “There are bulletins out for our arrest, me, Malika and Ember. Some trumped up list of charges. We’ll never get through the Exit Office.” When he saw the questioning looks on their faces, he held up the dark cube of Bit’s brainbox. “I have alerts set in Know-It-All for anything related to Ember and Malika.”

Ember and Malika exchanged a glance at each other and then both looked at Seije.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Seije said. “Considering your line of work, it seemed prudent.”

“No,” Ember said, looking impressed. “It was a good idea.”

“Smooth one, Tinker,” Lexa-Blue said. “What are they saying?”

“Well, while we were preoccupied with running for our lives, arrest warrants have been plastered all over the local media.”

He forwarded the alerts to them through Know-It-All, and they each saw the red banner that flashed, replaced by their holos, rotating from left profile to full face to right profile. A streamer below the mug shots listed off an impressive list of falsified charges including assault with intent to kill. A manhunt organized by GalSec was under way.

“That didn’t take long,” Keene said. “Who did you guys piss off?”

“Somebody’s flexed some muscle to find you three,” Lexa-Blue said, opening her eyes as they logged out. “Charges like that aren’t easy to fabricate.”

“Great,” Malika muttered. “We’re stuck here with the law on one side and those psychos on the other.”

Lexa-Blue looked down at her. “Don’t count us out yet, honey.”

“That’s fine for you, sister, you can hop on your ship and take off. We can’t.”

“If you think we’re going to leave you here….” Lexa-Blue started to say.

“Stop it, you two,” Ember broke in. “I have a plan. Follow me.” He led them deeper along the passageway to the junction of two tunnels.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking,” Keene said. “You three need to get off Know-It-All. They’ll be scanning for your node protocol ID. They may already know where you are.”

“No,” Seije said, shaking his head when Keene turned to him. “I grew those nodes. Off market and unregistered.”

“Smart,” Keene said. “But they’ll be going through all NPID and external link lists and when those don’t kick back a result, they’ll start checking everything unregistered. We have a bit of a reprieve, but it won’t last.”

“You’re right,” Seije said, frowning in concentration. “Even an idle connection could be traced.”

“We have some time,” Keene said. “Should be enough to get us off planet if we can get up to GodsEye and our ship.”

“I love it when you guys talk all tech-squibbly,” Lexa-Blue said. “But we still have to get them up there and on the ship. Past local paddies and all the security at The Reach.”

“And it’s back to me,” Ember said. He crossed the nearest junction and ran his hands along the wall, grimacing at the layer of slick, oily grime under his fingers. “Should be right about…here.”

A panel hidden in the wall popped open with a muted hiss of air. Ember reached in and pulled out a bundle, tightly bound up in sturdy-wrap, his movements overly controlled and precise. When he touched a specific place on the package, the wrapping unfolded, showing three micro-electronic wafers, along with three disposable, bracelet terminals for anonymous access to Know-It-All. He held out his hands and the wafers glinted as they caught the dim light of the tunnel. “I.D. masks and three chucker terminals. I had them stashed. I figured if we ever needed to use this escape route, we might like a little extra help.”

Keene smiled. “A little paranoia is a good thing.”

Ember didn’t smile back, a grim cast to his face. “I know a place where we can get sorted out before we hit the port. That is if you really don’t mind getting us off planet?”

Lexa-Blue shook her head, glancing sidelong at Malika. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Ember didn’t even look at her. “Okay, come on. We’re almost to the exit.”

Keene caught Lexa-Blue’s eye, and they exchanged a frown that spoke volumes. Ember was tightly wound, and it worried them both. The tense glimmer in his eyes spoke eloquently of a man close to the edge. Lexa-Blue shrugged ever so slightly. They couldn’t do much else at the moment but follow. Behind them, Seije hauled himself up from the ground with a groan, handing the brainbox to Keene when he offered to carry it. Malika smoothed her damp hair and fell into the line, Lexa-Blue bringing up the rear.

About a quarter of a local hour later, they stood beneath a grate that covered their exit from the tunnel. Rain spilled from the barred circle of night sky, slicking the ladder. When Ember made no move to ascend, Keene looked at him quizzically. “What are we waiting for?”

“The overground Tube is just going on night shift, and the one we need is the first to go by. The first few on late are always almost empty. Less chance of being spotted.”

Again Keene looked confused. “Why not take a cab?”

Ember shook his head. “This late, cabs record the IDs of every passenger. With alerts out for us, the cab’s guidance would be overridden, and we’d be delivered right to the nearest GalSec precinct.” He pulled tokens from the stash he’d retrieved in the tunnel. “Seije, Mali, and I can use these so there’s no record of us. You two can use the credit readers. Nobody’s looking for you.”

“What about the driver? Won’t he have seen the bulletins?”

“No drivers. All automated.”

Keene grinned. “You really do know your way around.”

“It’s what I do,” Ember said flatly.

Well then, Keene thought.

Ember fiddled with the wrist terminal, cursing under his breath, to check the transit schedule. The blue-white glow of the small holo display cast dramatic shadows on his face. Finding what he needed, he snapped the display off. “Come on.”

Climbing carefully, they emerged from the sodden tunnel into an alley, the grating clanging against the paving. Ember led them to the street and the Tube stop just as the car came around the corner and hummed to a stop. As its doors folded open, Ember handed the tokens to Seije and Malika. The tube-car bobbled on its anti-gravs as they stepped on.

As the vehicle pulled away, Lexa-Blue looked at Ember. “So, Bright-eyes, where to now?”

“Triton’s Tail,” was all Ember said.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, moving away from the populated core to the outskirts near the coast. Another Tube-car passed them, full of people heading in for the night-life of downtown. On the right side of the car, the city fell away and was replaced by the shining dark water of the bay. The car dipped below ground into a tunnel, and Ember pushed the stop request button. “Here.”

They filed from the Tube-car on to a platform at the mouth of another tunnel, this one leading out into the bay. They stepped into it and were surrounded by dapples of light and a sudden echoing mumble of sound.

The tunnel connected the mainland with an island just off the coast, a spit of land known as Triton’s Tail. Both houses and businesses alike faced the waters of the bay, or, on the more expensive side, the ocean itself. Blisters of clearcrete studded along the underside of the island held back the crushing pressures of the millions of cubic litres of water. Three other transparent access tubes ran along the seabed from the mainland to the island. Through the curve of clearcrete over their heads, they saw the undulating forms of fish, some transplanted, some indigenous. The sight took their breath away for a moment. Slow ripples of refracted light from the surface played across their faces and a dampness, heavy with brine, hit them like a fist. A school of quiverfish burst from a stand of coral and skimmed over them in an convulsion of red and gold, then faded into a haze behind a layer of dripping condensation on the inner surface of the seawall.

“This way.” Ember pointed to the slidewalk and got on.

*

Just keep moving, Ember. One foot, then the next and you’ll be fine.

Underneath his calm exterior, Ember’s heart was pounding. He didn’t know if it was from the adrenaline or what. He knew when he was in fighting form, and this didn’t feel right. He never got this tight, claws-embedded-in-his-chest feeling. He realized his fingers ached and looked down to see that his fists were clenched. With effort, he loosened them, hoping the others wouldn’t notice.

He was painfully aware of everyone following him, their presence like hot breath against his neck, like the feel of an unwanted pass. He was in the lead, and Seije and Mali were depending on him.

Why does that feel so different this time? he thought. Any time we’re on a gig, they count on me, like I count on them. But this… The presence of Keene and Lexa-Blue threw all of his rhythms off. He felt like he was walking on knives.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the slidewalk. Normally he loved the feeling of hurtling forward and that second at the end where you get pitched off and you have to fight not to be tossed on your face. Sometimes he even walked, revelling in the unnatural acceleration. But this time, there was only the phantom presence chasing him. He felt a sudden jab of memory: his living room torn apart, his arm dripping another man’s blood.

Pretty fucking real for a phantom.

They reached the other end of the tunnel and Ember cut left. It had been a while since he’d been to Clio’s, but he remembered the way. The others followed him to a doorway set in an alcove below the curl of light that spelled Clio’s name. Ember touched the call plate in the alcove’s wall. After a moment, the door slid open, revealing the club’s maitre’d.

The man before them stood barely a metre and a half tall, with a close cropped, salt and pepper beard that caught the light. And part of that light came from the intricate scrollwork of luminescent tattoos that covered the left side of his face and up onto his smooth, naked scalp. The small man’s face lit up when he saw Ember, pulling the taller man into an embrace, his head butting into Ember’s stomach.

“Ink,” Ember said, hugging him back and feeling a manic relief at seeing him again.

Ink released Ember and stepped away, keeping hold of his hands. “Where have you been, Bad Boy? Clio said just this morning how much she misses you.” His voice was deeper than expected from someone his size.

Ember knew Clio too well to believe him, but the words were soothing nonetheless. “I’ve got trouble, Ink. I need Clio’s help.”

He didn’t ask any questions. He never did. He just nodded. “Come on, I’ll get you a table. She’s just going on, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Ink led them through the crowd to a table off to one side of the room, not one of the best, but decent and out of the main crush of people. It was all as Ember remembered: the bowls of glowweed on the tables, the curving transparency of the seawall behind the stage, and the pervasive hint of mildew even Clio’s trademark sandalwood and vanilla couldn’t completely cover. The crowd waited for the lady herself with a quiet murmur of expectation. More than the last time I was here, he thought. I guess Clio’s gone respectable.

Ink appeared with a bottle of wine, opened it with practised flair, poured and disappeared without a word. Ember took a sip and knew it was the good stuff. He fished crumpled currency out of his pocket for a tip, wanting to save Bit’s filternet for when he really needed it. Reaching for his glass again, he saw the lights dimming and heard Ink’s voice over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Clio Patois.”

A spear of light hit the centre of the stage and Clio rose into it like a goddess from the seabed. The sight made Ember smile, as he always forgot how truly stunning she really was on-stage. A gown of soft white linen was wrapped and tossed over one shoulder, vibrant against the sea-green wall of water behind her. Her hair was lush and shimmering, braided, beaded and piled high, topped with a coronet of gold. She always hit her audience with something simple to start off, then got glam as the show went on. Ember could tell the others were impressed as well, for Clio was a stunner and from the audience you didn’t notice how tall she is or the size of her hands. With a gracious smile that swept across the room and took them all in, she started to sing, with three singers behind her contributing swirling, delicate harmonies.

Her voice still gave him chills, so smoky it made your lungs hurt. Each song was more beautiful than the last, wrung dry of every drop of emotion without a trace of self pity. For a moment, they all forgot the hounds nipping at their heels.

When she was done, Ink came to their table. “Give her ten to shed the curves and then go on through.”

When it was time, Ink gave them the nod and Ember led them through a dark hall and up a wrought iron staircase daubed with rust. Along a hallway was a door with a crystal star hung dead centre at eye level. Ember tapped lightly at the door.

“Hello?” The silky alto voice spread the syllables open before them like petals of some velvet flower.

“Clio, it’s Ember. I need help.”

A sigh issued from behind the door, sounding gracefully put upon. “Come in.”

With a chirp, the door opened onto a spacious, sumptuously decorated room dominated by bins and oversized chairs in silks and velvets that flowed into swaths of draped fabrics along the walls. A bank of candles, the holders various heights, formed a glowing wave along one wall. The room was so full of knick-knacks and standing racks of gowns and furs, that the room seemed on the brink of conflagration. Beside the mirror, a stand held the morph suit, still set in voluptuous feminine curves.

Clio sat at a mirrored vanity the size of a starship console, lifting the coiffed swoop of hair from her head to reveal a smooth, flawlessly bald head. Setting the wig on its stand, Clio regarded their reflections. After a moment, she turned her graceful neck languidly and zeroed those piercing violet eyes on Ember. She stood, one smooth ebony leg, darker even than Keene’s skin, slipping from the opening of the dressing gown. The diva swept toward them, the gown looking and sounding like a fall of autumn leaves over a much more masculine frame than the performer had displayed onstage. Clio took Ember’s hand, leaning down to kiss the air by his cheeks.

The others were shocked by their hostess’s height. Ember was almost two metres tall, yet she towered over him.

“Ember, what have you gotten yourself into this time,” Clio said, pulling away. Every word was sweet and creamy as vanilla fudge. “You’ve become quite a celebrity.”

“This time it isn’t my fault, Clio,” he said, seeing the scepticism. “We just need a place to put on our faces.”

Clio nodded knowingly, then pointedly indicated Keene and Lexa-Blue. “Don’t be rude. Introduce me.”

“Our hostess and saviour, Miss Clio Patois, Queen of Denial.”

“Charmed,” Clio said demurely, holding the robe closed with one hand. “My home is yours. Now, Wildchild, what can we do to help?”

“Get your paint box out, Old Girl. I need a new face.”

Clio took his chin in her hand, and studied him, her gaze intent on his features. She turned his face first to the left and then to the right. “Well, it is a bit worse for wear and it may take all night, but I think I can do something with it. This way.”

CHAPTER TEN

Clio took charge, setting the fugitives up at her immense vanity. Familiar with Malika’s training as an actor, Clio set her to work prepping materials and arranging them like a surgeon’s scrub nurse. She also conscripted Keene and Lexa-Blue into finding garments.

“You,” Clio said, pointing to Lexa-Blue and pressing a control on the vanity’s underside. One wall rotated in a smooth arc, revealing long racks of clothing. “Pick whatever seems the least likely thing she would wear, and any coats, wraps or outerwear.”

She stabbed a tapered finger in Keene’s direction. “You. Dancer’s dressing rooms down the hall, boys’ on the left. Same instructions. Tell them I sent you.”

Lexa-Blue began pulling clothes from the racks under Clio’s careful tut-tutting gaze. Within minutes, they had an array of garments spread on a chaise. Clio picked things at random and held them up under Malika’s chin, tossing them aside when she decided they didn’t work.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Lexa-Blue said, her tone rich with both admiration and flirtation.

Clio looked askance at her, pausing in her fashion critiques. “Thank you. One has to make the most of what one has to work with.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lexa-Blue said, grinning. “Maybe next time I’m on-planet, we can get a meal. You can tell me all about it.”

At that moment, Keene came through the door, arms outstretched and laden with such a load of clothing, he almost staggered under it. “Down, girl,” he said, bringing his cargo over to them. “Keep it in your pants until we’re sure no one’s life is in danger.”

“If I waited for that,” Lexa-Blue huffed, “I’d never get squishy. But I suppose I can focus on that whole life-saving thing for a bit first.”

While they sifted through the men’s clothing coming up with options, Clio concentrated on make up. In only minutes, Malika’s face had been contoured and disguised so expertly they barely recognized her. Clio had moved on to Seije, with Malika’s assistance. Ember and Lexa-Blue sorted through clothes for the three of them when Keene joined them and added his loot to the collection.

Clio took a precise, methodical approach to her work, and Ember stifled a smile at how like Seije she looked in the intensity of her concentration. As he watched, she tucked a brush behind her ear and stepped back from Seije, looking at him.

“You’re next,” she said, ushering Seije out of the seat and settling him into it. “Close your eyes. You two, go pick out clothes. Pick the things you hate the most.”

With a discerning frown, Clio returned to Ember, applied a final stroke of make-up to his face and sat back, appraising her work with a penetrating, critical gaze. Satisfied, she took the wig from its stand, placed it on his head, and adjusted it into position.

“Perfect,” she announced.

Ember looked at himself and couldn’t believe the difference. His skin was almost as dark as Keene’s, but ruddier in tone. His longish silver hair was now hidden by the short dark brown wig. An ugly mole sat in the middle of one cheek. “Unbelievable, Clio. My own mother wouldn’t recognize me. Not that I’d recognize her.”

Clio ducked her head, acknowledging his praise. “The others are waiting for you.” Ember rejoined the others in the living room. Seije was dressed in a gaudy bright green and orange plaid pant-suit and a long, flowing blond wig. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. Beside him, Malika seethed in a shapeless tent of a dress with pendulous, sagging fake breasts. Her hair was matted and stringy, and she was wearing large round spectacles. Ember found it hard to suppress laughter.

“Say one thing and I kick your ass,” she warned him, planting her hands on her hips.

Ember threw up his hands in surrender. “Not a word.”

Clio entered the room behind him, in a rustle of silk. “Well, my dear ones, my work is done. Time to be on your way. Ink will take you to The Reach. Try not to get him in trouble, all right? I need him.” She air kissed Ember on both cheeks, held him tightly for a moment, then shooed them to the door.

Ink piled them into the passenger compartment of Clio’s car and settled himself into the driver’s bay. He drove them back to the mainland, steering toward the immense column in the centre of town. Traffic increased as they neared the massive terminal at The Reach’s base, the flow of vehicles becoming tight and almost claustrophobic. Ink slowed the car to a crawl, hemmed in on all sides.

Ember’s hands began to sweat at the delay, casing the streets around them for any sign of pursuit or unusual police presence. Lexa-Blue did the same.

None of them talked much. The only sound was the quiet hum of the car’s grav cushion.

Finally, Ink pulled into an empty space outside The Reach’s terminal and put the engine in idle. He touched a control, opening the partition between him and his passengers. “Here you are. Be careful.”

Ember reached over the seat and pulled Ink into a hug, and the glowing tattooed lines were warm against his cheek. “Thanks, Ink. Drive safe.”

Ember let go of the smaller man, his hand lingering in Ink’s for a second as he got out of the car.

The others followed, all piling out onto the entry ramp, their odd mix of attire not standing out at all. As the car pulled away, they caught a glimpse of Ink’s face, glittering in the dark.

“Keene and I will log you as passengers, but you’ll have to go through security on your own. Time to see if those ID masks work,” Lexa-Blue said.

“Or if they don’t,” Malika said. Ember scowled at her.

“Let’s blow that hatch when we get to it, okay?”

“I filed the datawork through Know-It-All from the car,” Keene said. “Which will save time, but there’s no way to know except to do it.”

“Come on, Mali,” Ember said. “It’s just like when we’re on a sting. Head up and march in like you own it all.”

Malika squared her shoulders and her face took on a withering look of disdain that made her look regal and self possessed despite her shapeless clothing.

“Atta girl. Let’s do it,” Ember said, leading them through the doors.

And into madness. The columned main area of the terminal was packed, crammed shoulder to shoulder with a shifting sea of people. Eddies and currents of bodies constantly surged this way and that, threatening to separate them. Keene and Lexa-Blue had made sure the others knew the landing pad number in case they got lost in the crowd. He turned to her as someone shouldered past roughly, making her stagger. “So, Blue, feel like settling dirtside?”

She grimaced. “Not a chance, partner. Nice place to visit, but you know the rest.”

Before he could answer, someone stepped on his foot making him wince. Favouring the foot, he stumbled into someone else. “I’m sorry.” The person ignored him and rushed on. Behind him, a heavy woman laden with cases cursed him in Spanglish.

Witnessing the exchange and the incident, Ember pushed close. “Welcome to life in the big city. We have the best museum in the sector and ten theatres, but one day you wake up and you’ve forgotten how to even be polite. Then you’re just another casualty of the rat race.”

“So why stay?” Keene said, suddenly glad to be getting back to the ship.

Ember snorted. “I grew up on Scylla. This place is a party compared to that. The most exciting thing we had to do was lay bets on who the gangs would take out next.”

Keene whistled softly, his eyes widening in surprise. Scylla and Charybdis were the armpit of the Galactum. He felt for Ember growing up there and understood why anywhere else seemed better,.

“Come on, tickets are over this way.” Edging gently, but firmly past a woman in a glittering hoop skirt, Ember opened a pathway through the crowd. He stopped them at a self-serve ticket kiosk and brought up the schedule. “We’re in luck, there’s a departure in a few minutes.” He tapped out instructions and fed a pre-paid credit chit into the slot to pay. Tickets dropped into the slot on the machine’s face. He handed them out. “I’ve booked us all into the same cabin and bought the extra seat too. Should keep anyone else out of our hair.”

They were all familiar with the layout of the terminal and headed up another sloping ramp toward the departure gates. From there it was easy finding their assigned entry point.

The tram cars that rode up The Reach were gently curved, the separate tracks breaking the massive structure into six arcs. Each car was two levels, the lower being an open gallery with less expensive seating, the upper with compartments offering some semblance of privacy.

“A-5, this is us,” Ember said, leading them into the compartment and closing the door behind Seije who was the last one in. Sliding the door shut, Ember closed his eyes and raised the Cuff, then muttered a curse when he realized he’d forgotten he was locked out of his node. Fiddling with the chucker link around his wrist, he attempted to ‘push a command to his Cuff. Finally, he opened his eyes. “That should haze over any of the security sensors. They’ll be on high alert if there’s a fugitive alert for us. I’m feeding them our false IDs.”

The compartment was built for six, with two arcs of three seats split at the door, all facing toward the window. Every seat on the trams travelling the length of The Reach looked out, offering stunning views of the ascent up from the planet’s surface and out of the atmosphere. Seije, looking pale, chose one of the seats by the door, twisting as he sat so he saw as little of the view as possible. Keene and Lexa-Blue took the seats closest to the windows, where they could both watch the door for any unexpected intrusions. Malika took the seat opposite Seije, leaving the empty seat between her and Lexa-Blue. Ember took the final seat between Keene and Seije.

Within minutes, the final departure chime sounded, and the tram car began to rise, dropping the hustle of the terminal away below them. In moments, they passed out of the terminal and the city dropped away below them.

“One step closer,” Lexa-Blue said. “But not out of the woods yet.”

*You’ve got that right, Meat,* Vrick said. *We have a problem. In response to the watch alert for the others, GodsEye Security has gene sniffers in the air that are coded to Ember, Seije and Malika. Which is a serious problem since their current ID masks only disguise so much. Even with their node-codes cycled down, a sniffer will see right through their disguises. Whoever is behind all of this must have combed what was left of their loft for genetrace.*

*Ruck,* Lexa-Blue said.

*Whoever is after our friends has a serious grudge and some serious capital to grease palms with.*

*Can you slice the system? Upload a false trail or something?* Keene ‘pushed.

*I’m glad you have so much faith, but that’s beyond even me. Gene sniffers are the on the bleeding edge of security tech. With time, maybe, but that’s one thing we don’t have.*

*So what do we do? We can’t leave them.*

*I may be able to use your nodes to broadcast some low level interference. Scatter some fake genome data I pull off Know-It-All, but I won’t have much more range than when I nullified that scrambler for you and Giri on Orb. But if you’re too close, the level of interference will give it away. You’re going to have to separate and one of you will have to stick close to each of them. The best I can do is map their positions and warn you when you get too close. The upside is they don’t have a lot of hardware to cover the area. Gene sniffers are expensive and hard to maintain, so their inventory is low enough to give us an edge.*

*The problem with that is there are three of them and only two of us,* Keene said.

*Bit can cover whoever is left. I can show em how to manage it, and ey should have the signal strength and processing capability.*

*It’s our best option then,* Lexa-Blue said. *We should bring the others up to speed.*

She outlined the situation to the others clearly and without emotion. Seije seemed still too terrified by the heights outside the window to react, Malika swore, and Ember let out a sharp, strangled hiss through his teeth.

“Is that the best option we have?” Ember said.

“It’s the only option we have,” Keene said, his voice quiet.

“Then, I guess that’s what we do.” Ember straightened in his seat, a hard, determined look coming into his eyes.

“Look.” Malika pointed up at the edge of their viewing window, where sunlight began to catch the bright, reflective underside of their destination.

GodsEye was a vast ring, orbiting around the terminus of The Reach, studded with docking bays and mooring positions. Some wag in its planning department had named the station’s quadrants for the four cardinal virtues and the names had stuck: Prudence, Justice, Temperance and Courage.

“Our ship is docked in Prudence, Bay 27-Up. You need to find a route there as fast as possible. We break seal in a half-hour. Keep it casual, but quick,” Lexa-Blue said. With a thought, she accessed the carriage’s system and brought up a station map. She indicated a twining double helix of red and blue in the station’s central core. “Other than the direct elevators to the docking bays, this is the next best path. What passes for a Grift is here. It’s the area where all the spacers spend their off time. It’s designed to keep them amused if they’re on a short turn around between flights. Or usually just because they don’t like planets all that much. It’s broken up into these two curving “streets” for want of a better word. Some designer with about an atom’s worth of taste thought it would be cute to wind them around each other like a half cooked DNA strand.”

“So, which route do you want,” Keene said. “Because we don’t have time to wrestle for it.”

“Good thing too,” she said with a smirk. “You fight dirty.”

“Which I learned from you.”

She pointed again at the map, indicating the red arc. “I’ll take Vendor Bender. With all the stimulation and bodies in there, the sniffers will have to work extra hard to pull out any individual patterns. That combined with Vrick’s jamming should buy us enough time to get to the ship. Besides, if things get hinky, a crowd of stimmed up Grift grubbers might come in handy as human shields.”

“Agreed. We’ll still have to move fast, but I’ll take any edge we can come up with. Try not to get any innocent bystanders killed, Blue.”

“One time. It happened one time. And the autopsy was inconclusive. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”

“I did think of it. I’m just a gentleman,” Keene said. “I’ll take the Eat Beat then. It should be busy this time of day.”

“You’re just hungry again.”

“Life threatening danger always does that to me.”

“You must be hungry all the time, then.”

Ember looked at Seije. “Are they always like this?”

Seije managed to nod, without tearing his wide, terrified gaze from the sheer drop outside the viewport. “This is quite sedate for them, actually.”

“It keeps us from shooting each other,” Lexa-Blue said. “What about you? You going to be okay on your own?”

Ember nodded. “I pulled a job here a few years back. Still have most of the info up here from when I cased the place.” He tapped his temple. “Besides, it will keep me from shooting either one of you.”

“See,” Lexa-Blue said. “Now you’re getting into the spirit of things! Aim for him first,” she said, pointing at Keene.

She went silent and her smile faded to a serious, all business expression. “All right. I think we’re set.”

Within moments, a cheery voice announced their arrival with a chime that signalled that the capsule had locked into its cradle in GodsEye. In their small groups interspersed with the rest of the departing crowd, they filed out into the entry depot, following the waist high, yellow force fields marking the path out into the station proper.

*

When the others broke off, Keene felt Seije stiffen at his side. He slipped his arm through the older man’s, leaning close in a pose of affection. Let them all think he’s my lover, Keene thought. Or my father. Or both if that’s what it takes to keep the sniffers off us until we get to the ship.

“Hang on, Seije.” There was a good chance that the other man’s fear would give them away if they didn’t move fast. He leaned close and whispered in the other’s ear; a happy affectionate smile on his face. “Stay frosty.”

Seije nodded sharply, eyes wide. “Sorry, I’m not used to being in the field. My experience with this usually begins and ends with hearing about it from Ember.”

“You’ll be fine,” Keene said, not certain of that at all. “Come on.”

He slid his arm down, taking Seije’s hand. As soon as they entered Eat Beat, they were met by a wall of aromas that wrapped around them, competing for their attention. Keene’s mouth began to water as he had a sudden memory of a cozy bistro with the best pan-planet cuisine he had ever tasted. Scanning the row of restaurants, he picked out the curlicue of light that spelled out the bistro’s name, and felt a pang of regret and hunger.

He also noticed how sparse the crowds were. Not good, he thought. Fewer people meant less conflicting data for the gene sniffers to sort through. If those floating scanners came their way, they would see right through Vrick’s jamming and peg Seije as one of the wanted fugitives.

Keene’s mind shifted into high gear, evaluating their options. Seije, bless him, would be no help at all. Though he was at least tractable and would do as he was told when crunch time came. Keene raced through possibilities in his head, none of them particularly appealing or with much chance of success. He felt Seije at his side, the other man’s growing unease at the delay. Oh, well, he thought. When faced with unappealing possibilities, go with the one that smells the best. “This way.”

He led Seije in the direction of the bistro, hoping Carlu was working today. When he pushed the door open and entered, a dizzying rush of relief went through him. She was behind the bar, round and rosy-cheeked as always, wearing an emerald green suit that shimmered in the light. She was chewing out a server at least two heads taller than her, who held his tray up before the verbal assault like a shield. As if that could save him, Keene thought. Other than Carlu and her victim, only a few patrons were scattered at various tables. Carlu looked up from her tirade and saw him, a grin threatening to split her face. Forcing the scowl back to her face, she turned her attention on the server and dismissed him with a flick of her hand.

Keene crossed to her, towing Seije along behind him. Carlu scooted from behind the bar and swept Keene into her arms.

“So naughty,” she said, planting loud, smacking kisses on his cheeks. “How long has it been?”

“I know, I know,” Keene said, looking sheepish. “Too long.”

Carlu narrowed her eyes, peering at him closely. “And, by the look of it, it will be even longer. What have you gotten mixed up in this time?”

“I just need to get to our berth at the docks,” Keene said. “Discreetly.”

Carlu rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised. This way.”

She led them to the back of the dining area and through the kitchen to the bistro’s loading door. “Here. The delivery corridor leads to the commercial docks. It’s for authorized use only. And no surprise, your ridiculous luck has not deserted you. It’s low time. Should be quiet from here to the docks this time of day.”

She waved an arm over the bio lock, and the door opened for them. “This isn’t going to get me shut down, is it?”

“No,” Keene said, shaking his head. “Most probably no. Possibly.”

Carlu rolled her eyes again, and her sparkled lashes glittered. “Go. I’d say I hope it’s worth it, but with you two, it usually is.”

Keene leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Dinner. Next time we’re on station. And we’ll order the most expensive things on the menu. Two of each.”

“And you’ll bring friends,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

“Deal. Come on, Seije, let’s go,” Keene said, pulling the dumbfounded man into the corridor beyond.

*

Lexa-Blue moved through the arch into Vendor Bender, and curled her lip in a whiff of disdain. This wasn’t a Grift, she thought. Too clean, too orderly. The governing council of the station had built rows of precise, evenly-sized cubicles along the inner wall of the long, curving hall. A Grift should feel grimy and only barely legal, she thought. Not like a farmer’s market. But at least it’s busy.

She looked back, all too aware of her responsibility to get Malika safely to the ship. She turned and saw the other woman following closely, but with a sullen, withdrawn posture.

“What?” Malika said, her voice edged and pointed like a blade.

“Look,” Lexa-Blue said, rising to the bait. “If it was up to me, I’d stuff you down the nearest recycler and let the paddies have you. But then I’d have to explain it to Seije, and I’m not ready to have that conversation.”

“Well, the joke’s on you, then. He probably wouldn’t care one way or the other.”

Sensing the raw, unfinished business under the other woman’s words, Lexa-Blue felt her own sharpness abate. “He’s a softie. He’d probably even cry.”

Despite her fear, Malika smiled, just the slightest, reluctant upturn of her mouth. “Maybe if I was a computer.”

“Oh, if you were a computer, he’d save you himself,” Lexa-Blue said. “I practically had to grow a motherboard to get him into bed.”

Malika grimaced. “You and Seije? Oh, thank you for that. Is there somewhere around here I can get my imagination sterilized?”

Lexa-Blue laughed. “Don’t knock it. He’s pretty skilled. If you can actually manage to get his attention.”

“I’ll leave that to you, thanks. I have better things to occupy my attention.”

Lexa-Blue eyed her. “Your loss. Stick close to me. We’re lucky there are so many people out today. The more genetic material the sniffers have to process, the better chance we have of getting you to the ship. Come on.”

She felt Malika close in on her as she waded farther into the crowd, and kept a close eye out for the gene sniffers in the air overheard. She flagged two coming from the direction of the outer rings and adjusted their path accordingly. For a moment or two, it seemed that they were in the clear, until she saw two more of the flattened discs coming from another direction, red lights patiently sweeping back and forth over the crowd.

“Damn it,” Lexa-Blue said, pulling Malika aside and feigning interest in a dress hanging from a nearby stall.

“What is it? Have I been made?”

“I don’t think so.” Lexa-Blue hazarded a glance back out over the crowd. “Their flight pattern still seems pretty random. Could just be a standard search pattern since so many people are out and about. Take it slow and easy. We have to head that way to get to the docks. Stay casual, and I’ll watch how they react.”

Malika nodded and stepped away from the kiosk. Lexa-Blue was impressed to see the other woman adopt the perfect, casual pace of a relaxed midday shopper. She followed, shifting her sensor eye into higher wavelengths and focussing on the sniffers. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she kept a close watch on the energy output. Hopefully, she’d be able to tell if the scanners caught a whiff of Malika’s geneprint.

They had only travelled about forty metres when she saw the energy pattern of one of the sniffers begin to ripple, and it moved in their direction. Seeing the hard curve of a strut supporting the roof, she grabbed Malika’s arm and pulled her close. “Follow my lead,” she hissed.

Before Malika could resist, Lexa-Blue manoeuvred her against the strut, blocking the other woman with her body. She moved in close, laying a hand on the curve of Malika’s face and pulling her in for a kiss.

They stayed that way for several minutes, Lexa-Blue caught between the kiss and the prickly sensation along her neck as she hoped her plan would work. She moved a hand up Malika’s back, and Malika moaned into her mouth. When still there was no alarm from the gene sniffer, she relaxed and guessed the device had moved on, though she held the kiss a few beats longer. When she broke away, she saw the slight heave of Malika’s chest. She looked back over the crowd, and the sniffers had, indeed, passed them by. She turned back to Malika, who looked flushed and confused.

“Pheromones,” Lexa-Blue said. “Sorry.”

“What?”

“Pheromones confuse the gene sniffers. The engineer must have been a hell of a prude not to have taken that into account.”

“Sneaky.” Lexa-Blue could see from the upturn at the corner of the other woman’s mouth that she wasn’t overly upset.

“But it worked,” Lexa-Blue said, kissing her again, a gentle apology this time. “Come on, we’re almost at the docks.”

*

The hatch wasn’t where Ember remembered it being. A flutter of panic brought him up short, but he forced it down, breathing steadily and feeling the thudding of his heart calm. Steady on, boyo, he thought. It has to be here.

Concentrating, he focussed on the memories of his last job here, splicing together his memories of the plan he had implemented. He’d been flying solo, not needing Malika as a distraction. He’d used the hatch to access the maintenance tubes running all through GodsEye to exploit a hole in his mark’s security system. It should be here. He felt a tickle of panic begin to rise.

Stop it, Ember, he told himself. Think. Lose it now, and you’re not going to make it to the ship in time. Take your time and think. Using a minute or two now will keep you alive and out of the jail.

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep, ragged breath that did the job. When he opened his eyes again, he studied the empty junction. He peered closely at the the floors, the walls, looking for anything out of place, any hint.

There.

He saw it in the subtle difference in the paint colour, the wear pattern of the flooring. It all gave him a clear picture. He turned, following the spoor of a thousand feet and hands and moved past the junction on his right.

He found the hatch in a patch of wall that was crisper, newer, less worn. Some renovation in the intervening years had redrawn the map, rendering his memories obsolete.

Now if only I can remember the way, he thought. It would be so much easier if he had access to his node, but there was still only the dull, echoing void when he reached for it with his mind. And without it, he also had no way of communicating with Bit, who would have been invaluable in guiding him through the maze of the station’s innards. Well, I do have access to this piece of junk. The cheaply made wrist link made a dull sounding chirp when he tensed his wrist to activate it. It took a moment or two to remember the right combination of hand gestures to navigate the burner link’s interface, but it came back quickly after that. A swipe of his index and middle finger opened the station’s main information menu. Though he couldn’t activate it with his mind, he still remembered to path to get to the schematics for the maintenance drone shafts that covered every inch of GodsEye.

Feeling a bit like someone with neurological damage, he executed the pattern of hand and finger gestures that would plot him a map through the access tunnels to the docks and alert him to right and wrong turns with a simple set of tone warnings.

Now all I have to do is get the hatch open.

He looked at the hatch. No biometrics, that was a good sign. Saves me from having to cut off the hand of some random maintenance worker, he thought. It makes such a mess.

It was a simple mechanical lock, designed to ensure access when even redundant back up power systems had gone down. Ember smiled. One for me, he thought.

He brought up his escape route on the wrist link again, syncing it with the station’s chrono. Furious mental calculations raced through his head as he weighed his options against the slowly ticking countdown until he had to be at the ship. Lowering the link, he brought up the other wrist with the Cuff on it. Without his node, he wouldn’t be able to control many of its functions, but he wasn’t without tools at his disposal. He pried open a compartment on the inner side of the Cuff, pulling out two slender lockpicks. All right, he thought, let’s get prehistoric on this little bugger.

He was rusty with the old fashioned tools, so it took longer than he expected, but he forced himself to remain calm and on task. Finally, with one triumphant flourish of his wrist, the lock gave way. He pried the hatch open and brought up the map of his escape route once again, memorizing the first few turns. Shoving Bit in ahead, he squeezed in through the hatch arms tight against his body to pull himself along.

Within four turns, he was sure the passageway was getting tighter.

*

Keene rounded the curve into their docking bay, and felt a rush of relief to see Lexa-Blue and Malika just ahead, at the foot of Vrick’s ramp.

“Blue,” he called out.

She broke into a smile when she saw them. “You made it. Thought I was going to have to leave you behind.”

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me.”

“Let’s get these two aboard,” Lexa-Blue said. “You guys head in and wait for us in the lounge. Help yourself if you’re hungry or thirsty.” As the two passengers headed up the ramp, she addressed Vrick. *Power up and signal we’re almost ready for departure.*

*Flight plan is filed with the dockmaster. We’re just waiting on Ember.*

“We shouldn’t have left him on his own,” Keene said.

“He’s pretty damn resourceful. The others needed our help way more than he did.”

“Still,” Keene said, before his voice trailed off. “Do you hear that?”

When they were both silent, the sound became more evident, a rhythmic, metallic tapping coming from a section of wall off to their left. Lexa-Blue amped her sensor eye up into the infrared and grinned at Keene. “Found him.”

“Let’s get him out of there,” Keene said. “Help me pry this wall panel off.”

Using the butt of her pistol as a lever, they were able to pry the modular panel off, revealing a dishevelled and bloodied Ember, contorted into a painful position. His disguise was torn in ruins, revealing scraped, raw skin in several places.

“Sorry, I’m late. I got hung up,” he said. “Literally. By an effluent pipe, by a wiring junction, by a sharp bend in the tunnel….”

“Yeah, yeah, contortion boy,” Lexa-Blue said, reaching in to help lever Ember out of the cramped space. “Tell us all about it on the ship. We need to make some tracks.”

Once aboard the Maverick Heart as it smoothly left the station’s dock and Weald’s orbit, Ember peeled away the Micro I.D. wafer from his tricep, removing his false identity, and tossed the wrist link into the recycler. He popped out the dark contact lenses, removed his wig and put them in the disposal. “So, who’s first for the shower?”

“No need to take turns. There’s one in my room and one in hers,” Keene said, cocking a thumb at Lexa-Blue.

Ember took the shower in Lexa-Blue’s quarters and Malika used the one in Keene’s. Seije was too preoccupied with fussing at the brainbox to call for a turn. Keene consulted with Vrick to plot the course back to the Gate and went to the main lounge. He crossed to Lexa-Blue who was preparing food in the galley. They realized they hadn’t eaten since well before the attack on Seije and Ember’s loft.

“We’re on course, and we boost to interspace in twenty minutes.”

He picked up a slice of gerit root and popped it into his mouth. She swatted his hand.

“Leave some of those for the company.” Her knife flew as she cut more gerit, then moved on to some mushrooms. “Any word from the Gate?”

He shook his head. “I sent a tightline as soon as we cleared the atmosphere, but no response.”

She shrugged. “No surprises there. When you want to keep your project a secret, it doesn’t do to answer any old call. Probably on commo silence.”

“Could be.” He didn’t look convinced.

“I’ll put the commo system on auto and let you know,” Vrick piped up.

“Thanks, Vrick,” Keene said. He paused and then looked straight at Lexa-Blue. “There is another possibility.”

She stopped her cutting and returned his gaze, her face showing she had already considered it. “They already have company.”

The grim possibility hung in the air between them until Seije broke in tentatively. “Excuse me, but is there somewhere I can jack Bit in? If ey’s alone much longer, I’m afraid ey’ll develop some kind of quantum psychosis.”

Lexa-Blue spread some slices of meat on the tray, wiped her hands and came from the galley to Seije’s side. “Sure, kiddo. What do you think, Vrick? Could you live with a roomie in there for a while?”

“Does ey go?” Vrick said, a decided leer in his tone.

“Hah,” Lexa-Blue snorted. “Ey’d eat you for breakfast, Giga-Brat.”

“Ooh, then definitely, yes!”

Lexa-Blue laughed and began to show Seije how to link Bit into Vrick’s matrix.

“I’m going to take a steam in the gym, Blue. Vrick, please let me know if you hear anything from the Gate,” Keene said.

“Of course.”

As Keene reached the door, he passed Malika, damp and sweet smelling from the shower. Her hair was doubly glossy with moisture, and she had put a scarlet shimmersilk shirt over her leggings. She saw the look on Keene’s face as he recognized the shirt as one of his. She met his gaze without a trace of sheepishness.

“Hope you don’t mind.”

Keene looked briefly askance at Lexa-Blue, then answered drily, “Not at all.”

Ember returned shortly after Keene left, but his dark mood intensified, growing gloomy. He retreated to the end of one of the couches and stared out at the stars, deep in his thoughts. He didn’t even rouse from his funk or join them when Lexa-Blue laid out the food and they gathered around the table to eat. After the meal and coffee, Lexa-Blue showed Malika to the guest room and extended a hand to Seije to take him to her room. His face brightened like a child offered candy, then coloured furiously with embarrassment at the dual smirks on Lexa-Blue and Malika’s faces.

Ember sat, still staring, long after they were gone.

*

In the gym, Keene had decided to work out before the steam, so it took more than an hour before he was ready to head to bed.

When he returned to the main lounge, the lights were dim. As he turned to go to his quarters, he caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the lines of one of his own one piece shipsuits, against the tumultuous colours outside the main port. “Ember? Is that you?”

“Yes.” The reply was thick with smothered emotion.

For a moment, Keene wondered whether he should interfere or let it lie. “What’s wrong?”

No response.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Ember’s only answer was a harsh snort.

Concerned, Keene made his way through the dark to sit at Ember’s side. “Come on, Ember. Let me help.”

In the eerie light, Keene could see rainbow tears on Ember’s face. He heard the other man sigh. “The three most important words in any language.”

“What?” Keene had no idea what Ember was talking about.

Ember shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “Never mind.” He paused a moment before he continued. “I was fine until my adrenaline crashed. I can always keep going until the job’s over. In the shower, I just kept hearing it over and over again.”

“Hearing what?”

“The sound of the grapple going through that guy’s head. It…cracked. Like an egg or something. And then there was this…this wet…I don’t know how to describe it.”

Keene suddenly understood. “You’ve never killed anyone before,” he said quietly. He tasted a sudden acid slash of memory: a storm of hellish blaster light against sheeting rain and the sudden stink of charred flesh at close range. The sudden dead weight on him and the empty eyes staring right through him. The stifled anguish in Ember’s voice sent the memory skittering back to its hiding place.

“Where I come from, I’ve seen people kill for scraps of food that a mung-rat wouldn’t touch. I swore I would never become like that. I might steal, con, or swindle, but I swore I would never kill.”

Keene exhaled and shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I could say it gets easier. I could say you never really get over it. But I guess all that really matters is that it’s done. Nothing you say or do can ever change it. You’re on the other side of a wall now. One that can never be crossed back over. All you can do is learn to live with it; carry it as gracefully as you can.”

Gingerly, he placed an arm around Ember’s shoulder and pulled him closer. After a moment’s hesitation, Ember sagged against him and Keene felt silent tears against his neck. His instincts told him Ember hadn’t cried like this for a long time. He hugged Ember tightly and turned his head, murmuring gentle comfort. He kissed Ember’s temple, and the skin was warm and soft against his lips.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

An explosion of dopplered blue light bloomed near the edge of the arm of darkness Pan Galactum astrogators had named Black Rim. From this blaze of inter-drive emissions, a black needle of a ship appeared, silently making the transition to sub-luminal drive.

The Stiletto, a dark wraith of a vessel, sliced through the vacuum, hidden from sight and sensor by its matte black stealth hull. Had anyone been close enough to sight the vessel, they would have seen the weapons and the massive deflection field system. Had anyone been unfortunate enough to have witnessed the ship’s entry into real space, they would have recognized its purpose in the moments before they died.

The Stiletto was a ship of war.

“Smooth as Nerian Icecloth,” the ship’s pilot announced, insufferably pleased with himself. “Exactly on schedule.”

From behind him in the main cabin flew a crumpled Sweetlet wrapper, bouncing off the back of his head. “Spare us the ego massage, Helm, and follow the plan,” Shackle said. She came forward, retrieving the wrapper and tossing it into the disposal. She turned away from him and went down the three steps into the barracks room of the ship.

The main area of the ship was cold, not in temperature, but in style. Walls of glossy moulded plex had been scrubbed and polished to hide the worn patches. Ranks of lifeless, utilitarian grey lockers ran along the barracks bulkheads, separated by the doors leading to the sleep cubicles, little more than closets with beds and terminals. On one wall, the only sign of life was a tattered pin-up of a tattooed naked woman, garishly made-up. At the aft end of the cabin was the communal galley, gunmetal table, and washroom. Zed emerged from the washroom, naked and strutting proudly, beads of moisture running along the hard curves of his muscles. Shackle scowled and tossed him a towel. “Cover it up, Zed, we’ve seen it all before. Get dressed, pronto. We all have work to do. Everyone to your posts.”

When Zed returned, the group split up, moving precisely about their business. They observed their standard pre-mission protocol: Zed and Zadi on weapons detail, pulling, stripping and checking every gun in the open racks. Phasia moved to her own equipment, Looker and Gizmo to shield suit detail, Dagger and Darke to the commo gear. As Second-in-Command, Shackle supervised them all, ruthlessly efficient.

Barely a half a ship’s hour later, they heard the hum of the elevator from the deck above. They all turned their heads, almost in precise synchronization, to the hatch leading to Vek’s quarters, the deck none of them had ever seen. They looked on in a mix of envy and curiosity, even a twinge of fear, an emotion that came to them rarely. They each had a different mental picture of what their commander’s quarters looked like, from opulence to stark utility, but none of them were foolish enough to think they would ever find out for sure. The hatch hissed open, and their commander stepped through.

With an air of casual cruelty honed by years of power and practice, Vek surveyed his squad. His eyes were a cold slate grey that betrayed no hint of emotion. Fleeting glimpses of feeling might work their way onto his craggy, gaunt face, but they never reached those bleak eyes. Shackle had learned her brutal efficiency at her master’s side.

“Are we ready?” Vek’s tone was clipped, the question inviting only one answer.

“Yes, sir, just waiting for Phasia,” Shackle said.

A fleeting frown danced across Vek’s face, but before he could question her, Phasia entered from the rear locker room area. She had changed from her coverall into a snug black shipsuit with a barely visible, sparkling imprint of a dragon winding its way around her torso and down her left leg. As always when she wore the outfit, she was unnaturally calm.

Vek’s eyes narrowed when he saw her, the expression not lost on the other members of the squad. If he was going to comment on either her appearance or her tardiness, the impulse quickly passed. Vek tolerated her “communications ninja” affectation because she was the best. He knew that she knew the moment her skills slipped, her short amount of slack would disappear instantly.

“When you’re ready,” Vek said to Phasia, in a tone indicating she should be ready now.

She inclined her head and took her place at her station. As the interface recognized her, the mutable consoles extended, forming a one hundred eighty degree shell around her, lined with touchpads and interface gear. Without a word, her hands flashed across the panels.

Satisfied, Vek turned to the others. “Next.”

Gizmo stepped forward, closing his eyes to fugue. A holo formed, showing the ship’s main weapons room. The holo shifted, taking them inside the firing tubes. Sparks of arc-white brilliance danced in a constricting tube of energy, never touching its walls. “Focused anti-matter plasmits, fired by induction field. Uses standard torpedo launcher. Payload doesn’t register on any scanner not tuned specifically to its frequency.”

Vek nodded, then turned to Shackle. “Final briefing and then get everyone suited and ready. Insertion is in one hour.”

*

Carta Allister was bored. The initial euphoria of the Gate’s success had worn off, and a routine of debriefing and component testing had set in. There had been no jumps for days, and the entire system was off-line while the thermic stress team examined the Gate’s infrastructure. The heads of the project, Doctor San Cristobal and al Harizi and the team’s senior personnel had been closeted away with data from the Gate’s initial jumps, all of which left Technician Third Class Carta Allister on what was surely the dullest monitor duty he had ever suffered through.

He looked around Gatekeeper Control. Oni was at the power systems console, Terin at environment, and Wil at communications, all of their data twinned to Carta’s Deck Officer station. Oni and Wil had the same glazed look on their faces, but Terin was engrossed in her screen. Probably a jacked in holo game, Carta thought. He debated reprimanding her, then decided against it. Hell, he thought, I should get her to transfer it and play head to head.

Sighing, he rejected the idea. While he couldn’t fault her for trying to stave of the tedium, he knew that he should keep a closer watch until she was done. After all, she had covered his ass enough times. He shrugged to the others and turned his attention back to his own displays.

And saw it.

It was nothing much, just the slightest energy variance on the display monitoring commo. He frowned. “Wil, did you see that?”

Wil looked confused for a second, then focused on his board. After a moment or two, he saw the disturbance too. His hands moved over his panel, a look of concentration forming on his face. “Some kind of spike in the chi band. Doesn’t look like anything serious, though. There are a lot of chi emitters in this sector. Probably a spurt from a quason or something.”

“Any impact on long range commo capability?”

Wil looked over at him balefully. “We’re on a top secret research installation. Who are we going to call? Big boss al Harizi would have our nuts if we tried to call anybody.”

“San Cristobal would probably get to them first,” Carta shot back. Still, he thought. Best to check it out. “Measure it and make sure there’s no impact. I’ll check with the cutters, see if they scanned it”

While Wil ran his check, Carta opened a channel to the Lightstorm. “This is Gatekeeper Control to G.S.C. Lightstorm.”

“Lightstorm here. What can we do for you?”

“We’re reading an energy variance, and we were wondering if you can confirm it for us.”

“No problem, Gatekeeper. Have your Commo Officer send the specifics. We’ll check it out.”

Carta nodded to Wil, who looked up at him and shrugged. “I’d love to, Carta, but it’s gone. No trace of it. I can send the data collection, but that’s all.”

Carta sighed. “False alarm, Lightstorm. Here comes the data spurt, keep an eye out for it and let us know.”

Closing the channel, Carta leaned back in his chair. So much for that.

*

Ember snapped fully awake in an instant, something that only ever happened when his instincts warned him something wasn’t right.

It didn’t take long to figure out what it was. He was in a narrow bed, someone spooned at his back, arms holding him tight and a hand warm against his bare chest. He heard one of those sleepy, contented moans and the grip around him shifted, then reasserted itself. One hand drifted lower, settling on his belly.

Shit and double shit, he thought. It was not supposed to play out like this.

It was Keene. Ember remembered the how and why but not much else.

They had sailed through the Exit Office like a breeze and hit orbit in record time. It all felt like just another job: move, counter-move, play it icy, and play it through. He was still riding the crest of the adrenaline high when he hit the shower. It was hot as he could stand and set for needle spray, just the way he like it, guaranteed to drive away the sudden kick-in-the-gut as he came down out of overdrive.

He recognized the mile down drop of his stomach when it hit, and he immediately went into the routine: hands on the shower wall, water hitting his back and neck, then breathe, deep and hard until the world stopped spinning. He had done the exercise a hundred times, and he could practically predict the second when the world rights itself.

But that moment didn’t come.

He struggled to steady his breathing, feeling each gulp of air ragged in his throat. Over the stream of the water, he could still hear the crack and shatter of bone. Even the bracing tang of the soap couldn’t get the coppery stench of blood out of his nose, couldn’t get the sticky, slowly drying warmth from his skin. With every breath, he smelled it, heard it, relived it again and again. Over and over, he felt the jarring of the grapple’s line as it went through that other man’s head. Over and over, he saw that second of shock in his eyes before they rolled up, showing nothing but deathly white. Again and again, the images looped in Ember’s head. Again and again.

Ember fought it harder than anything he had ever fought in his life. He pushed those memories back with all his strength, barricading them behind a makeshift shield. He didn’t remember how long it had taken, but gradually, it had eased. Finally, he could move again, could shut off the water and dry himself, but the hysteria was only a hair’s breadth away. As he walked back to the lounge, his limbs leaden, he was bound by the walls he had erected against the feelings. He walked with excessive precision, as if the slightest extra movement would set off the cascade of grief and guilt bubbling just below the surface. He had found a place on one of the couches and stared at the stars. He hadn’t eaten with the others. The very thought of food had made his stomach turn. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at any of them, not even Seije or Mali.

That was where Keene had found him. It had taken the sound of his voice to make Ember realize that all of the others were gone, that the lights were low. Ember had been about to tell him to fuck off, but at the last minute, he hadn’t, without really knowing why.

Damn him and his consolation, Ember thought. Kindness kills the kind of walls he had struggled to put up, and it had done its work ruthlessly. The barriers had come tumbling down and, apparently, so had the pants. I didn’t want this, Ember thought. Well, I did want this, but not like this. Or maybe he had and that’s why it happened. One hurdle at a time.

I killed a man, he thought. I have to carry that with me now. I have to figure out what that means to me and what comes next.

And more than that, he needed to figure out where his pants were.

*

Keene watched Ember through mostly closed eyes, valiantly suppressing a chuckle. He looked so flustered struggling with his clothes, trying to silently sneak away. Where are you going to hide, Little Silver, he thought. When Ember, shirt open and flapping, began searching for the mate to the one shoe he was wearing, Keene finally spoke up. “It’s under the night table.”

For a second, Keene thought Ember would leap out of his skin. Then a sheepish expression crossed his face, and he clutched his unfastened shirt front together. “Keene, I was just….”

There was a brief uncomfortable pause.

“I know,” Keene said, gently. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast, but you could have stayed until morning.”

“I know, but…I mean, I was…It’s just that…” Ember gave up, visibly deflating. “I didn’t plan for this to happen. I’m not very good at this…afterward part.”

Keene chuckled. “I never would have guessed if you hadn’t told me. Come on, Ember. It was one night. And a fairly innocent one at that.”

Ember looked puzzled. “I guess I missed the innocent part.”

“Oh sure, it didn’t start out that way but…” Keene scrutinized Ember’s face. “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Well, I know we…” His voice trailed off.

“Ember, we came back here. I put my arms around you. I kissed you. We undressed and we touched. I went down on you.” Keene paused for a moment. “And you started to cry again. Which was not the reaction I was trying to elicit, believe me. But I could tell that it was what you needed, so I put you in bed and held you until you fell asleep. That’s all that happened. Pretty scorching, huh?”

The look on Ember’s face told Keene he remembered none of this. Keene continued. “Now there’s a few more hours before ship’s morning. You can go back to the guest room with Malika if you want or you can come back to bed and get some sleep, it’s your choice. And if some day we get to finish what we started, that would be lovely. But there’s no pressure and no need to be uncomfortable.”

He turned and slid back into bed. “You paint.”

Keene looked up at Ember, who pointed at Keene’s easel and the light painting resting in it. Keene smiled warmly and nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“I draw.” Ember still looked like a lost child, desperately uncertain. “But my pad was in the loft. I guess anything I didn’t store on Know-It-All is gone.”

Keene felt a pang of grief at Ember’s loss, knowing what it would have meant if he had lost so much of his own work. “I’m sure we have a pad somewhere on board. Maybe you can make a start on some more. I’ll dig it out for you in the morning.” He flipped back the covers for Ember.

After a moment’s thought, Ember slipped off his clothes and laid them carefully across a chair. Keene slid over in the bed to make space.

*

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Malika looked at the bunk where Ember was supposed to be sleeping. She had waited for him, unable to sleep and needing to talk. Hours had gone by, and she had drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. Finally, she had given up and lain awake. Still there was no sign of him.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he was. Ember had described in detail the dark-skinned fantasy man he had seen in passing. She had recognized Keene the second she met him. I guess that fantasy just became reality, she thought sourly.

She had tried to watch a holo on the room’s screen, but as soon as the credits rolled, she was fidgety and couldn’t sit still. She realized half an hour into the holo that she had no idea who any of the characters were, so she had given up and gone back to bed.

She rolled over, punching her pillow into shape again. She closed her eyes, but still felt wide awake and jangly. She adjusted the controls for the bed but couldn’t find the right level of firmness. Eventually, she gave up and lay there, thoughts cartwheeling in her head. She relived the terrifying blur of the battle at Seije’s loft, then went over again the tangle of memories that, if Ember was to be believed, were false. The recollections of Palimpsest were so strong and rang so true, she still found it hard to believe that it hadn’t happened.

Yet, something was there at the edges of remembrance, like a barely noticeable whiff of fragrance. Something that danced out of her reach like the last traces of a stim-sim when you’re coming down. No matter how she touched it, it was gone.

With a groan, she rolled onto her back. She desperately wished Ember were here to talk to. She needed his voice and his friendship, though she was loath to admit she needed anything.

Either that or a good, hard squish, she thought, the kind that leaves your legs weak. That would help me sleep. Of course, the only candidate on the ship was Lexa-Blue and she had gone off to bed with Seije, a thought that left Malika vaguely repulsed. I guess there’s always the old standby, she thought, though a duet was always more fun than a solo.

“Malika?”

She opened her eyes. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Vrick. Trouble sleeping?” The ship’s voice betrayed no clues as to whether ey had seen where Malika’s hands were.

“The worst,” Malika grunted.

“Maybe I can help.”

Malika laughed derisively. “What? Know any good lullabies?”

“One or two,” Vrick said with a soft, intimate laugh. “Million.”

A flicker of a smile appeared on Malika’s face, then was gone as if it had embarrassed her. “You’re not like any ship I’ve ever experienced before.”

Vrick’s voice betrayed a tickle of laughter. “No, I definitely am not.”

“Not that I’ve met many ships before,” Malika said. “I think the only other one I was ever on was a system cruise out near the gas giants. Ember and I were on a job.” She turned on her side with a frustrated huff and threw her arm over her eyes. “But if you have a lullaby, I sure wouldn’t object.”

Vrick sang a brief passage, es voice a gentle smoke. Surprised, Malika found her eyes drooping. Vrick went on, through two more songs. Malika’s body relaxed even more and she curled up into a ball.

“That’s it little one. Sleep.” Vrick’s voice was barely a whisper. Accessing the environmental controls, ey sent a caress of warm air across Malika’s exposed shoulder and neck, raising goose-flesh that went unnoticed.

*

“Keene, we have a problem,” Vrick said the next morning, as Keene was putting on his robe. “You’d both better come see.”

At his side, Ember skinned into his borrowed shipsuit, and they hurried to the lounge. Lexa-Blue was dressed in her steelskin and boots, and Seije was at her side sipping a cup of tea. Keene’s borrowed clothes hung off him. Malika was already up, and the shipsuit she had borrowed from Lexa-Blue strained to contain her curves. She frowned at the sight of Keene and Ember together, but it passed after barely a second.

“What is it?”

Lexa-Blue’s expression was grave. “Tell him, Vrick.”

“We’re coming up on the Rim, but our recognition code has expired. Their security is tight, and those cutters are faster and a lot tougher than we are. Without the proper codes, they will be well within their rights to blow us to dust, and they have the armament to do it.”

Keene let out a sharp breath. “Nice little puzzle to greet the day with. Still no contact?”

Lexa-Blue shook her head. “Nothing. They’re tighter than a drum. No way to get through and warn them or try to scare up another code. Any ideas?”

Malika looked up. “Blow it off. If we can’t get through to them, I say let them deal with it themselves.”

Lexa-Blue glared at Malika, her eyes like shards of stone. “That is not an option.”

“Why not?!” she snorted. “Every girl for herself, I say.”

For a moment it looked like Lexa-Blue would strike her, but the look in her eyes passed. “Because the Gate is something too valuable to be lost. And if that doesn’t mean anything to you, some of us have friends there we’d like to save. If that doesn’t mean anything to you, you have no place in this discussion.”

“Why you…” Malika started out of her chair, but Ember grabbed her and pushed her down with a hard head shake.

“Is there some type of physical perimeter around the Gate?” Ember said once she had quieted.

Keene shook his head. “No. The space is too vast to cover with anything like that.”

“So why not come out of interspace closer to the Gate?”

Again Keene shook his head. “A mass that size can screw up the calculations. It takes a lot of energy to slow down a ship that’s in inter-drive.” He looked pensive. “Still…”

Lexa-Blue looked at him closely. “You think it’s doable?”

“I can do it,” Vrick said, es voice subdued and quiet.

“Are you sure?” Keene said, deep lines of thought etched in his forehead. “It would be a hell of a bumpy ride, and everything but essentials would have to be off-line to shunt power. Even then, there’s trajectories, deceleration vectors, inertial buffers. Can you handle that amount of computational data at once, Vrick?”

“Have I ever let you down?” Vrick said, but es tone held a hesitance that neither Keene nor Lexa-Blue had ever heard before.

“That, my friend,” Lexa-Blue said. “Is not an answer.”

“I can do it,” Vrick said, and this time es tone brooked no disagreement. “It’s not going to be comfortable for you, but I can do it. If all non-essentials are shut down, we should be able to hold onto the crash fields and generate enough reverse thrust to avoid going splat. Big risk, though.”

Lexa-Blue looked at Keene, who nodded slowly. “Okay, Vrick, run the sims and do what you have to to make it work. Like you said, you’ve never let us down before.”

Vrick came back with a solution barely an hour later, giving them just enough time to implement it before they reached the Gate.

With precision born of years of teamwork, Keene and Lexa-Blue made sure that Ember, Seije, and Malika were settled and ready before taking their own seats in the lounge.

“Okay, everybody, when the crash fields come on line, you won’t be able to move, so get as comfortable as you can. Coming up on retro-fire,” Vrick said. “Is everyone ready?”

Lexa-Blue turned to Keene, saw the glint of his steelskin under his shipsuit. She wondered how much it would actually help if things went bad. “Ready, partner?”

He nodded sharply. “As I’ll ever be.”

Lexa-Blue shook out her hands and placed them on the arms of her chair. Keene got himself in a similar position. “Get ready back there, everybody. It’s all yours Vrick. Let’s get this over with.”

The crash fields snapped into place, turning the air gelid. Everything in the ship, animate and inorganic, seemed frozen in amber. In a stray beam of light, even dust motes froze in their path.

A screaming vibration skated across the hull of the ship, its pitch rising. Suddenly, Interspace folded itself inside out, and the ship slammed to a halt. The crash fields strained, the generators shrieking in protest as they fought to prevent the passengers from splattering against the walls. Normal space blossomed around them, and the ship came to rest with a hiss of altitude thrusters firing.

And in the viewports, barely a hundred metres away, the burnished plating of the Gate blocked the stars.

*

Jaq Syoko filed her status report with Know-It-All, tapping the key with a flourish. She felt almost irrationally pleased with herself for finding yet another graceful way of saying nothing happened today, a task that was becoming harder with every passing day. With a satisfied sigh, she crossed to the synth and dialled up a cup of almond tea, enjoying the feel of the smooth warm glass of the cup. She inhaled the sweet fragrance, and once again it took her back to her childhood. The aroma and the taste of the tea were redolent with memories of the many times her grandmother had taken her in when her mother was too stoned to care for her. The tea had been their special treat.

Just as the tender memory took hold, it was shattered by the shrill emergency klaxons. Sloshing tea scalded her hands, and she hissed at the sudden pain.

“Collision alert,” Pantheon’s voices said, flat and utterly calm. “Collision alert.”

Before the voices had finished their announcement, Syoko had ditched her cup and snatched her sidearm off the desk. Before Pantheon spoke again, she was out the door and running.

“Downgrade alert, collision negative. Proximity detectors: positive. Ship well past minimum safe distance.”

Syoko saw Tolan coming from the cells, rumpled and bleary, obviously napping on one of the cots again. He came alert quickly, keeping pace behind her. “Location!” she snapped at Pantheon.

“Arc Two, Section thirty-nine, Level six.”

“Show me.”

Tolan just behind her left shoulder, she ran. Pantheon generated a holo, the image keeping pace with them. The blue Doppler smear of the Maverick Heart dropped out of inter-drive, barely stopping before smashing into the outer hull. Information from the ship’s transponder spelled out along the holo’s lower edge.

“Isn’t that the ship that was just here?” Tolan said. “Those AI Inspectors?”

Syoko’s eyes narrowed. She had been against the breach in security that the Maverick Heart had represented on her last visit, but the Director had overruled her, citing their contractual obligations. It seemed they would have that conversation again. “Pantheon, target their sub drive with a focussed low-level E.M.P. to keep them from moving, then scan them with everything you’ve got and grapple them in. Then I want the bay locked down until I get there.”

“Firing pulse. Successful. Beginning scan. Priming grapple beams in Landing Bay Five-Green.”

“Get al Harizi and San Cristobal down here now!” she said.

*

Aboard the Maverick Heart, the crash fields faded, gradually releasing their grip on the passengers and crew. Lexa-Blue was the first to regain her senses. She craned her neck to see their passengers. “Everyone okay down there?”

A chorus of weak affirmatives answered her. She turned to Keene. “You okay, partner?”

He nodded, giving his head a shake. “I think so. When we’re done here, can we go back and get my bones? I think we left them back there.”

“Meat!” Vrick’s voice sounded urgent. “Station’s fired some kind of pulse. My mains are off-line. Bringing up the backups”

“No. Better play it nice and non-threatening. I’d be pretty skittish if someone pulled that stunt on us. My guess is they’ll tractor us in and deal with us on the station.”

“I’m reading full, broad beam scan,” Vrick said.

“They’ll be checking us over really carefully before they let us land,” Keene said. “It’s what I would do.”

Lexa-Blue stood, stretching, and looked toward the lounge. “We’d better check on the others.”

“You’re right. Things could get a little hairy once they land us. Best to have a plan of attack.” Keene smiled, ruefully. “Metaphorically speaking, I hope.”

*

After the ship had been thoroughly scanned, it was none too gently hauled into a docking bay and landed. There was no trace of Pantheon’s former pleasantness as they were given instructions to disembark with hands behind their heads. One by one, they did so.

Waiting at the hatch was the security chief and her deputy, their fierce-looking handguns drawn and their aim unwavering. Directly behind them stood Ophir al Harizi and Initra San Cristobal, their expressions fixed in a mix of concern and shock at the intrusion in their otherwise normal day.

Keene stepped toward the group, carefully keeping his hands up. “We have to talk to you. You’re all in danger.”

“Quiet!” The chief’s voice was a whipcrack, and her gaze was icy over the barrel of her gun. Her aim didn’t budge so much as a centimetre.

Ophir turned to her impatiently. “Oh, come on, Chief. I think this is a little ridiculous, don’t you? They were our guests. They represent Brighter Light, and I don’t need to tell you how important the Technarch’s contributions to our project were.”

“Well, these…representatives, as you like to call them,” she said, spitting each word out as if poisonous, “have breached station security and come close to tearing a hole in the outer ring that could have put hundreds of lives at risk.”

“For which, I’m sure, they have a very good reason.” He looked at Keene and Lexa-Blue, his expression making clear that there had better be a very good reason. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Once they’re in the brig,” Syoko said, her voice hard and flat.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Jaq.” Seeing she had no intention of backing down, Ophir rose to his full height and turned to her. “Chief Syoko, need I remind you that this base is under my ultimate authority and, as such, you work for me. I don’t want to pull rank, but if I have to, I will. These people, irresponsible and foolhardy as they may be,” he said, aiming his comment directly at Keene and Lexa-Blue, “are my guests. We will not treat them as criminals. Do I make myself clear?”

Glaring at him, Syoko hesitated, then lowered her gun and holstered it, but her hand didn’t stray from it. “Fine, but I want them disarmed. I’ll invoke general order six if I have to.” Ophir bristled, but nodded, knowing he couldn’t countermand her order. She snapped her fingers at her deputy. “Tolan, I want them checked for weapons and every single thing impounded to the locked weapon storage locker in Arc Five.”

Without a word, Tolan set to collecting their guns, his pat downs thorough and professional. Lexa-Blue hesitated, staring daggers at Jaq Syoko, but she finally complied, her body rigid with defiance.

Everyone in the room finally seemed to relax. Ophir let out a breath. “All right, let’s find a place to talk and sort all of this out.”

As they filed out, Syoko and Tolan in the rear and watching the others very closely, Ophir gripped Keene’s arm. “I have no idea what’s going on here, but it had better be good. I’ve never seen her this angry before. When it comes to security matters, she outranks me. I’ll do what I can, but I don’t know how much I can help.”

*

The Strike Room on the Stiletto pulsed with an eager energy. Vek’s team were ready, performing last minute equipment checks while they waited for their leader’s go ahead. This was what they trained for, what they were best at. All else was merely prep and window dressing for the actual mission. All other aspects of life were mere shadows.

Vek descended from his aerie and stepped onto their deck, his arms clasped at his back. He slowly walked past them, examining their disguises, gaze diamond hard and penetrating every detail. Behind his back, they often joked that this familiar facial expression could stop the nuclear fire of a star. The expression itself prevented them ever mentioning it to his face.

When he reached the end of the inspection line, Vek stopped, thought a moment, then turned back to face them. A slight inclination of his head told them he found their camouflage acceptable; that all traces of the covert insertion team were gone and they looked perfectly like a ragtag group of deep space pirates. He turned to Shackle. “Status.”

“Prime. Giz has the plasmits targeted for initial strikes. Phasia, Gizmo, and I hit the AI core, establish the tightline and download all the Gate’s specs to Moneybags. Looker and Black loot as much as they can and plant the evidence of pirate attack. Zed, Zadi, and Dagger do the same, only with twice the body count.”

Vek nodded, then moved to Phasia. “The diversionary tactics are in place?”

“The sensor ghosts are placed and ready. Once the plasmits blow, they’ll go online and distract the cutters. Fully automated and triple redundant. I’ll be plugged in and monitoring them from the core.”

Satisfied, Vek moved to Looker and the hulking albino beside him. “Pirates are precise in skill, yet indiscriminate in choice of targets. Destructive, yet specific in the plunder of choice. You know what to do.” The implicit threat was not lost on any of them.

Finally, to Zed, Zadi and Dagger, he said merely, “Bodies. Many and varied. Pirates can be creative.”

Identical smiles crossed the “twins” faces, smiles that would have made Vek’s blood run cold had it not done so already. Dagger merely unsheathed a knife, twirled it on his fingertip, tossed it, caught it, and sheathed it, the blade flashing in the light.

Vek showed a flicker of a smile, but it disappeared before any of them could be sure it had even been there. He turned sharply and entered his lift. He turned back to them.

Shackle and the others looked at him hungrily. “Sir?”

Vek waited a second, savouring their anticipation, their desperate desire for the mission to proceed. Finally he gave what they craved. “The word is given.”

*

“Let’s go over this again.”

Jaq Syoko’s impassive disbelief was wearing down even Keene’s patience. Lexa-Blue had retreated to the other side of the conference room, obviously straining to keep from killing the Security Chief. Ember, Seije, and Malika sat off to one side of the room, Bit on Seije’s lap. None of them were more than peripherally involved, and they knew it. This fight was between Keene, Lexa-Blue and the four sceptical faces behind the table.

“We’ve told you already, more than once.” Keene’s voice was strained from the effort of patience. “The story hasn’t changed.”

Syoko grunted her disbelief. “And so you expect me to believe that on the basis of this,” she pointed to the Gate-shaped holo fragment. “And their word.” She gestured dismissively at Ember, Seije, and Malika. “You expect me to believe that this station is about to be attacked and call out the troops.”

“You have to admit, Sei Ota Chiaro, it sounds pretty far-fetched,” Ophir said, diplomatically. “It isn’t a lot to go on.”

Lexa-Blue shouldered back past Keene, slashing the air in front of Ophir’s stunned face with a pointing finger. “Fine, you and your precious little toy can face whatever this is by yourselves. We’ll leave you to it and be on our way.”

Syoko boosted herself out of her chair, palms flat on the table. “I don’t think so. There’s still the matter of breaching a Galactum Security edict and your little stunt outside Arc Two. It’s not going to be easy to wiggle out of that!”

Lexa-Blue clenched her fists, but Keene pushed himself in front of her. He stared deep in her eyes and seemed to defuse the tense moment. He turned back to Ophir. “Come on, Ophir. You have to trust us on this. We wouldn’t do this on a whim. You’ve got this place tighter than a GalSec prison, right?”

Ophir nodded.

“So how do you explain that?!” He pointed to the holo. Sparks of light moved around the Gate-shape.

The engineer said nothing. Seeing his friend waver, Keene pressed on. “Ophir, Initra, you have something amazing here. You have to admit that if someone did breach your security somehow, everything would be at risk. Just admit the possibility.”

He didn’t have time to respond before a rumbling shudder rolled through the deck. The station bucked and twisted, throwing them all around. Crash fields caught them in solidified air, and they felt the station moving, spinning from its stable orbit. The sound of emergency stabilizers reverberated through the hull as they fought to keep the Gate from spinning out of control. Lights went out, sputtered to life then went out again.

They did not know it, but farther along the arc of the station, the anti-matter plasmits had gone off perfectly timed to Vek’s plan. The rupture of energy had torn open the Arc containing living quarters, spilling air, torn alloys and bodies into space. Emergency systems throughout the Gate fought and gradually stabilized the station’s spin.

With a flicker of emergency lighting, the wounded station came to rest.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Vrick had only an instant to register the sharp fluctuation in the infra-quantum spectrum before the explosion’s shock-wave hit the docking bay. With es sensor net powered down for docking, ey had no forewarning until the outer hull sheared away, bathing the dock in a wash of vacuum silence.

As es sensor web went down, Vrick had a second to register that black silence beyond and the sudden cessation of life signs outside. Interpolating from the fragments of data, ey realized that, off to es starboard side, much of the landing bay’s structure was gone, atmosphere venting to space. Without access to es sensors, ey had no idea how much of the station was lost.

With a thought, ey ran diagnostics, trying to get a clearer picture of the extent of the damage. Before the systems could even run, ey realized that es hull had ripped free of the mooring system, and was tumbling from the docking slot out into vacuum. Ey attempted to fire es stabilizing thruster fields, receiving only intermittent pulses that did little to arrest es momentum. Thankfully, es basic internal gyro system remained operational, giving em an all too detailed awareness of tumbling wildly into space.

Es uneven, uncontrolled path brought em into collision with multiple pieces of jagged debris, and judging from particularly jarring impact, the edge of the gaping rent in the station’s hull. Ey felt the impact right down to es frame, and the sharp, painful rending as Lexa-Blue’s quarters opened to space. Oh, she is not going to like that, ey thought.

From the sleet of sub-ethemic particles that ey had registered before es sensor field had collapsed, Vrick was able to hazard a guess as to the type of explosion that had torn through the hull of the station. There shouldn’t have been anything on the station that could produce radiation of that type. That was something unnatural and external. And it didn’t take an Artificial Sentience to guess who might have caused it. Not that it made a lot of difference to em at the moment, as ey found emself tumbling away from what remained of the station.

First things first, ey thought. Arrest this spin before anything else breaks loose. Ey attempted to activate es drive field, but received only the barest, intermittent pulses in return, which did nothing to arrest es spin. Okay, ey thought. Drive field inoperative. Lets try the emergency thrusters.

Across es hull, tiny plasma jets erupted in spasms. With controlled bursts, Vrick slowly brought emself back to a stable position.

One down.

Ey turned es attention to es diagnostic routines, attempting to ascertain es current state. Temperature and pressure differentials arced across es hull, letting em know ey was open to space in more than one place. Some compartments had managed to lock down, since standard procedure was to keep internal hatches closed when not actively in use. Ey realized ey was correct. Lexa-Blue’s quarters had been breached, as had the docking bay on that side of the hull. The regenerative mesh embedded in the hull had activated and was slowly knitting itself together, much like the self-repair systems in a human body. Thankfully, unlike a human, ey was in no danger of bleeding out, though es interior spaces were not designed for hard vacuum and the sooner the breaches were closed, the better. Even with the self repair system, it was going to take time.

Ey ran the numbers and was relieved to see ey was in no imminent danger of a breach of es power systems or any further catastrophic failures, though ey set all warning systems to minimum tolerance and hoped it would give em enough time to combat any more issues that arose in es weakened state.

Okay, ey thought. Not immediately dying. Hurts like a son of a bitch, but not dying.

Ey attempted to run up the external sensor net but was met with a dull blackness, devoid of even the most basic starlight. All right, then. Blind too.

Next, ey tried es links with Keene and Lexa-Blue, but got nothing but static. Communications diagnostic showed that external array was mostly gone too. Estimates said minimum three hours to restore even minimum function. Deaf, too, it would seem.

So, I can sit here and wait, ey said to emself, running over all of the diagnostics and repair estimates again. Or I can do something.

I can’t find the bad guys, because I can’t see them. Even if I find them, I can’t fire on them, since I can’t see them. I can’t get through to my team, so I can’t help them either.

Unless….

While es main communications array was down, ey couldn’t communicate, but there might be something else.

Ey ran through es memories and realized that when he left with the others, Seije, out of habit, had slung Bit over his shoulder.

Bingo.

Despite the AI not wanting to admit it, ey was a quantum linked proxy shard that Vrick had created by implanting a portion of emself into the proto AI Seije had built. While Seije was brilliant, creating a miniature AI housing, his knowledge of the programming basics was lacking. Vrick had known it wouldn’t work, and had helped es friend along, implanting a semi-autonomous piece of emself in the device. Ey had then been privy to some of Seije’s best design work and had an inside track on how the eccentric, but undeniably brilliant designer worked. Was it selfish? Most likely. But ey had been able to help Seije along with many of his projects, providing assistance as if ey truly was a portable AI. It was a bit of a dirty trick, but it had ended up being mutually beneficial.

I can apologize for it later, ey thought. Since it just might be the key to me actually being able to do something to help, rather than just floating here in space. It took only a picosecond to find the proper quantum resonance frequency and activate it. Ey recalled the Bit persona, set it with a strict new set of parameters and put it to work monitoring the repair cycle, and took es place.

*

Helm kept the Stiletto in full stealth mode and drifting, safely hidden from the Gate and its security detail on the cutters. The engines, on full standby, throbbed with potential power. The pilot knew his part in the plan and was ready. Behind him in the staging area, the strike team waited, watching a holo of the enormous ring of the Gate. Exactly on time, the plasmits triggered.

The Gate blossomed silently with fire as the atmosphere escaped and ignited, suddenly snuffed out as it hit vacuum. Debris from the explosion tumbled, mingling with sparkling crystals of frozen, escaping oxygen. The giant wheel tilted out of position, driven by the force of the explosion, then steadied as streams of glowing plasma fired from hundreds of altitude thrusters.

“Go.”

Helm was already throttling his engines to full before the sound of Shackle’s command died in the air. The Stiletto sliced toward the wounded Gate, carving a swath through the debris field. Torn chunks of hull metal bounced off the deflection grid as they pierced the drifting veil of wreckage from Gate’s habitat arc. Helm veered the ship sharply and arrowed for the docking levels. He keyed a chrono display from Know-It-All, mixing it into the complex display that overlaid the ship’s main viewport, seeing that the window before the station restored minimal power and the docking fields came up again, closing fast.

Swearing, he slammed hard starboard at his interface, barely missing the work drone that tumbled toward them, torn loose from its mooring clamps in the docking bay. Crossing the threshold of sputtering field generators that ringed the bay’s mouth, he saw the fields were recharging. Fast and hard, he brought the Stiletto in to a rough landing. Slapping the power-down, he turned to the others and gave the thumbs up. “Sorry for the bumpies, guys. Have fun.”

Shackle shouldered her weapon and barked to the others. “All right, let’s move!”

At the base of the ship’s docking ramp, they fanned out. Zed, Zadi, and Dagger began shooting at any banks of equipment that looked relatively undamaged, imitating the scorched earth tactics of pirate marauders. Looker and Black began rifling through the debris for consumables and standard pirate booty. Gizmo waited patiently for his role to start.

Phasia took a position at a computer outlet, checking first that it did indeed have access to the AI core. Once she was sure, she slapped a hardlink in and felt her proxy form in the orderly, limited mind of the interface. Befitting her self-bestowed communications ninja status, her proxy was swathed in dark, close fitting robes, revealing only a pale slit of flesh across her eyes. She reached her proxy’s arm toward the flow of crisp, bright data coursing through the interface and felt her infiltration ‘ware swirl out, pulsing like vines from below the proxy’s skin. The twists of parasitical data twined into the dataflow, burrowing into its flesh. Feeling them yield to her, she ran a quick diagnostic. Green all the way. She smiled. Triggering the codeworm, she waited a second until it confirmed activation, then another moment as it sped through the AI link at the speed of light. A warm flush though her node signalled that the job was complete. Closing her link to the interface, she returned to the meatware of her body and looked up at Shackle. “Done. The focal link that connects their AI core to the station is severed. It’s going to have only itself to talk to for a while.”

Shackle nodded sharply. “Everyone, Snip is in the green. Proceed with Fool You, clean and clear.”

Slightly manic smiles formed on Zed and Zadi’s faces as they and Dagger went off in search of prey. Looker and Darke’s faces betrayed no emotion as they broke off to perform their piece of the mission. Shackle turned back to Phasia and Gizmo. “Come on, we have a half hour to do the core-dump. How are the cutters?”

Phasia web-fugued, then smiled and opened her eyes. “Occupied,” she said smugly.

Shackle’s smile was mirthless. “Make sure they stay that way. Come on.”

*

“I don’t understand it, Commander. One minute the readings are there, and they’re gone the next.” Lieutenant Feo furrowed his face in puzzlement.

Commander Poroth Shanti of the Union Security Cutter Lightstorm frowned back at his tactical officer. The string of sensor glitches had his crew running in circles. What had begun as minor fluxes on radiation monitors had quickly become system wide failures and misleading readings on nearly every sensor band. The last glitch indicated some sort of massive explosion at the Gate. “Commo?”

“Still down,” Burin said from the commo station. “But it’s been down since before the energy spike. Could be unrelated.”

“Or it could mean some kind of catastrophic failure at the Gate.” Shanti scowled. “Anything on long range?”

Feo shook his head. “Nothing reliable. Every indication that seems to be solid is followed up by something completely contradictory. I’m working on it.”

“All right,” Shanti said. “Bring us around and set course for the Gate. I want visual as soon as we’re in range.”

“Aye, sir,” Ensign Zulie said from Navigation. “Course laid in and executed. Coming around to 567 3 24.” As she turned back to her board, something caught her eye. “Sir, I have another ship on the grid. 16 498 147 from the Gate accelerating out system.”

“Another ghost?” The commander rubbed his chin, slowly.

“Negative, sir. I’m not sure, but the contact is too clear. Seems to be a real one this time.”

“TAC?” Shanti turned to Feo at Tactical.

“I’m cleaning up the trace as best I can. Should have ID right away.” His head swung up sharply. “Sir! It’s a pirate marauder!”

“Are we sure, Lieutenant?”

Feo hesitated, adjusting a scanner on his board. Shanti saw it and realized what he was asking in the current circumstances. “Best guess, Mister Feo.”

The young lieutenant took one more second, then nodded decisively. “Aye, sir.”

Shanti swung his seat back towards Zulie. “Pursuit course, Ensign. All hands prepare to engage.”

Zulie danced her hands across her interface, and the cutter’s engine’s hummed up a note into pursuit mode. “Sir, marauder has increased speed to point five C.”

“Keep pace, Ensign. How’s that commo coming, Burin?”

“Cleared up some of the low band, sir. Nothing from the Gate. Should be able to give you a couple of short bursts of intra-ship, though.”

“Good. See if you can get the Cloudstar. Pulse the info on the marauder through and ask Commander Kolivos to rendezvous with us at…” Shanti checked the display to his right and touched a key to transfer the data to the commo station. “…these co-ords. Let’s see if we can box our friends in.”

“Sir, marauder has increased to point six five C and is taking evasive action.”

“Keep on her tail, Ensign.” The commander’s voice was steady. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

Under Zulie’s practised hand, the Lightstorm surged after its prey and slowly began narrowing the distance. Despite her best efforts, the pirate vessel remained just out of range of their minimal scanning capabilities.

“I’ve reached the Cloudstar, sir. Commander Kolivos confirms rendezvous. She has target in her sights and is bearing down.”

“Good.” Shanti savoured the word. “Ahead full, Ensign. Engage overthrust and bring us down on him.” A quick glance at his display showed that the Cloudstar was indeed moments from rendezvous with them and the marauder.

“Coming into range, Commander,” Feo announced. “Visual in ten seconds.”

“On screen.”

The main holo came online with a waver of light. Instead of a pirate marauder bristling with armaments, there was only the nubbly tube of a probe drone. Shanti glanced sharply back at Feo.

“I…don’t understand, sir, “ The younger man stammered. “All instruments read a marauder class vessel at high sub-t velocity. Attempting to clear…. Sir! I’m reading an electro-magnetic pulse from the…..”

The lights on the cutter’s bridge suddenly dimmed, going black at the same time as the control banks at every station. Velocity unchecked, the Lightstorm hurtled along its former course, deaf, dumb and blind.

*

“What in Terenya’s Tits was that?!” Jaq Syoko rubbed the back of her neck, renewing the circulation cut off by the forced stillness of the crash fields.

“That,” Lexa-Blue said, her voice cold as she pulled Keene up from where he had fallen. “Was a ‘possibility,’ Chief.”

Syoko glowered back at her but didn’t comment on the sarcasm. “Is everyone all right?”

Seije had taken a gash on his forehead. The others appeared to have nothing more serious than bumps and bruises, but Tolan grabbed a med-kit from the emergency locker and began to check them all over.

“Pantheon, status?” Silence greeted the Security Chief’s call. She frowned at Ophir and Initra. Surprise showed on their faces. The Gate’s AI gestalt had been checked and rechecked for emergency redundancy. Nothing short of complete destruction of the core should have been able to break contact, and destruction of the core was not theoretically possible without destroying the station.

Ophir dashed to Syoko’s desk, attempting to use the direct non-verbal interface. He looked up, fear and confusion on his face. “Nothing. Just dead space on the band where Pantheon should be. Initra, help me. Maybe we can bypass the information filters and get some kind of report.”

She hurried to his side and they set to work.

“Right, Tolan continue triage. I’m going on recon. The rest of you stay here.” Drawing her cybergun, Syoko grabbed the manual release for the door and cranked it open. Her gun at ready, she slipped into the hall.

Without invitation or hesitation, Lexa-Blue followed. Silently, she came up behind Syoko, her attention focused on the older woman’s blind spot. Several moments of stealthy movement passed before Syoko even realized she was there. “I told you to stay behind.”

Lexa-Blue shrugged. “Never was very good at taking orders. Besides, you need someone watching your back.”

Syoko was about to argue, but thought better of it. If the Gate’s attackers were strong enough to take Pantheon out of play, backup would be useful. “Fine. Gun out, mouth shut.”

Lexa-Blue smiled, cloying and insincere. “You confiscated my gun, remember?”

Syoko scowled at her. “So sarcasm is the best weapon you have to offer? Fine, bring your rapier wit and try not to get yourself killed.”

Wisps of smoke eddied around them as they stepped around and over debris. Though the meeting room they had left was virtually undamaged, shattered wall panels were everywhere in the hall. Dark, sooty burns marked the explosion of overloaded conduits. Frayed, torn lengths of optic cable hung from the mangled ceiling like vines. Lexa-Blue commented on the difference between their surroundings and the room where the others waited.

“The crash fields are keyed to the life sign monitors. I hear its an energy saving measure. No people in a section, crash fields come on only at minimum. I’d say we’re getting close to whatever it was that happened, because things are getting worse. Help me with this.” They bent down and strained against a chunk of bulkhead that had fallen in their path. They struggled against it until finally they managed to lever it out of their way. Turning a corner, they stopped abruptly.

Before them was a sea of stars framed by shards of jagged metal. Decking fell away sharply in a tangled ruin. For a fraction of a second, Lexa-Blue felt a rush of panic, imagining a freezing, airless instant of death, before she realized that they were safe behind a membrane of field energy.

“Shit,” Syoko muttered. “Whoever they are, they’ve taken out most of Arc One.”

“Which means?”

“Which means some crew quarters, Main Medical, and Gatekeeper. Fucking bastards. One fell swoop, and they’ve probably taken out half the crew if not more.”

“Then I guess we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?” Lexa-Blue said as she examined the field. “Uh, Chief, We’d better head back and fast. This field isn’t going to hold much longer. There’s too much structural damage.”

Syoko frowned at her, confused, and Lexa-Blue tapped her cheekbone under her sensor implant. Syoko looked sceptical. “Look, Sei Lexa-Blue, I don’t think…”

She was cut off by a groan of metal as a chunk of the hull on the other side of the field sheared away and tumbled into space. Another groan started, vibrating through the deckplates under their feet.

Without another word, they turned and ran.

“There’s a…bulkhead just beyond…the meeting room…” Syoko huffed between ragged gulps of air. “Have to…get the others beyond it…or we’re all gone.”

They reached the open door to the conference and found Keene and Tolan waiting for them.

“We heard the…” Tolan began.

“No time!” Syoko shouted. “Get everyone past E.L. Six now.”

Tolan moved instantly into action, herding the others. They all tore headlong down the corridor, followed by the shriek of tearing metal. Just past a thickened rim around the edges of the hall, Syoko and Tolan stopped, tearing open a striped emergency panel. “Come on,” she shouted. “Get this thing sealed.”

They leaned against the lever, pumping it as the Emergency Lock jerked closed, agonizingly slow. As it locked home, Tolan scanned the readout. “Positive seal!”

“Coding explosive bolts,” Syoko’s hand stabbed at the keypad. “Green! Triggering.”

A deafening rumble rolled through the corridor as the bolts fired. Beyond the Emergency Lock, three torn levels of the station broke free with a final metallic scream.

Independent controls took over, firing the reaction control thrusters along the damaged sections of the station. With a whisper of plasma, the jagged ruin tumbled out and away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I’m in way over my head, Ember thought. Ever since we have landed on this weird ass station.

While Keene and Lexa-Blue were arguing with the Security staff and those other two, Seije, Mali, and Ember just sat there, waiting. Being nothing more than invited stowaways, they couldn’t offer anything to the discussion. The more they argued, the more out of his depth Ember felt. Now, leaning against the wall with eight other people gasping for breath, he’d hit bottom. He supposed he should be grateful they hadn’t been spaced or locked up, but he was seriously thinking he’d rather take his chances back on Weald with the yahoos that were trying to kill the three of them.

Once he could breathe again, he checked on Seije. He sounded the worst. Poor old fart. Mali and Ember were in pretty good shape. You have to be if you want to survive in their business, but Seije spends most of his time on his ass. He didn’t sound good at all.

“Here, there’s oxygen in the emergency locker.” It was the blond security deputy, Tolan. He popped open the locker and gently fitted the mask over Seije’s face. Once he was sure Seije was breathing okay, he smiled up at Ember. He had a nice smile.

Oh great, that’s just what I need, he thought. Curb the hormones, Ember, you already have one man problem to deal with.

“All right, everybody,” the chief was saying. “We need to get ourselves organized. Can we all move?”

There were nods from all around, even Seije, whose colour was looking much better.

“Let’s go then. Secondary Medical is this way. We can dig in there, figure out what’s next.” She set out down the corridor at a determined pace, and they all fell into step behind her. Keene took Bit’s brainbox from Seije and offered him an arm. Ember couldn’t help but smile a little.

He found himself thinking the chief was quite a woman. She reminded Ember of a cross between his friend Yuki’s grandmother and a pit-bull. He knew she wouldn’t take any shit from anybody. And the way he felt, he wasn’t in any shape to give her any.

She stopped in front of a door and pumped on a lever to get it open. It took three of them to pry the door wide enough to get through, but they squeezed through into the medical bay.

The rooms were far enough from the worst of the damage, so the room was pretty much intact, if a complete mess. Supply cabinets had popped open, and cartons and canisters were everywhere. One of the gel-beds had ruptured, but it was over in the corner. Most of the screens were dark, and the emergency lights made everything look funny in that sickly bluish light, but no gaping holes in the walls waited to suck them into hard vacuum, so Ember guessed it wasn’t so bad.

“Ophir, Initra, find a working interface and get back on the Pantheon problem,” Syoko said. “Pheris, weapons detail. Anything and everything we can use in a fight. Lexa-Blue, help him, please. Keene, look for food or a functioning synth. The rest of you, turn this upside down. I want to know just what kind of resources we have. If it still works, I want to know about it.”

They split off to their tasks, not really questioning the chief’s authority. All except Mali of course. As soon as Syoko was out of earshot, she was bitching in Ember’s ear.

They didn’t find much. Plenty of things still had power, but there seemed to be nothing on any of the station channels. It was like the static you get on the holo channels when it’s not tuned properly. Most of the medical equipment was still working, as far as Ember could tell.

They reported it all to Syoko when she called them all back together in the room that was supposed to be the Head Surgeon’s office. Tolan and Lexa-Blue spread out a few bone fusers and laser scalpels on the desktop. “Not much,” Tolan said, shrugging.

“All of the food synths seem to be working,” Keene reported.

When it was their turn, Ophir and Initra looked deeply troubled. “I just don’t understand it,” he said. “The system seems to be running fine. Backups came online just like they should have. It’s like Pantheon has just been taken out of the circuit.”

“So we can’t count on internal scans to tell us what we’re up against.” Syoko frowned.

Initra nodded. “They’re there, but there’s no processing power to funnel the data to us. Not without Pantheon at least.”

Keene looked up suddenly. “Wait a minute. The only thing missing is the AI?”

Initra nodded again. “That’s right, but the system is designed for a gestalt. Even if we had an AI core, we don’t have the time or the expertise to install it.”

“You’re right, but maybe we don’t have to.” Ember could tell from Keene’s face that his mind was racing. And he actually caught up.

“Bit!” Ember said.

Keene turned to Ophir. “Are these medical facilities standard? Are they independent from the core?”

“Yes,” Ophir said, not following. “Just in case something like this happens. The meds are linked through an LI matrix, not the AI core, so they’ll function even if the core goes down. The LIs can access the core’s banks for information and scans, but they don’t depend on them. Who’s Bit?”

Keene conferred with Seije a moment, and they bolted from the room. Once they found what looked like a diagnostic unit, they plopped the brainbox on it. There was that familiar chink sound as es hardlinks went into the panel and then es voice came from the air around them.

“You there, Bit?” Keene said.

“Bit’s not available at the moment,” Vrick said, slightly tinny from the brain box’s inferior vox unit. “Will I do?”

They all stared at the brain box, equally dumbfounded.

“Yes, it’s me. Bit was me. I’m Bit. Long story. That we do not have time for right now. How about we move it along?”

Keene turned to the stunned faces of Syoko and Tolan. “Our ship. Long story, apparently.”

“So, I hear,” Syoko said.

“Good of you to join the party, Vrick,” Lexa-Blue said. “You made it just in time.”

“I’m floating out there off station somewhere in repair mode. Thought I could do more good here.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Syoko said. “But if you’ve got a plan, now would be the time to share it with us.”

“What do you think, Vrick? Can you access the station’s systems?” Keene said.

“It’s going to take minute or two, but I think so. Hold on.”

Keene turned to the ring of inquisitive faces on either side of me. “I thought this was a quantum linked portable AI core, but it turns out to be even better. Our ship is an AS. And ey has done this before.”

“I’ve got it, folks. Not the most graceful of connections, but I’m in.”

A little rumble of excitement went through us all. Syoko, ever the commander, piped in first. “Can you access the medical scanners? Try to get a picture of how many survivors we have and where.”

“Got it. I have about thirty blips that match the profiles from the records.”

Syoko swore, using words even Lexa-Blue had never heard before. “That’s not even a third of the crew. Where are they?”

Vrick brought up a schematic that had to be the station. “The explosion took out a good chunk of the crew quarters and all of Gatekeeper, but the rec areas and the open public areas weren’t all that damaged. That’s where they are. The bad news is that I have ten unknown contacts and an unregistered vessel in what’s left of the docking level. Eight bogies are moving in smaller groups and two are on the ship.”

“Show us.” Syoko’s face looked mighty grim.

Points of light appeared on the schematic, white against the dark blue gridlines. They looked like little constellations, clumped together on one side of the gaping hole in the outer ring of the Gate. “This is us.” A green clump appeared. “And these are our bogies.” Dots of red appeared, looking like splatters of blood. “Hold on, I have movement. Something’s happening.”

One of the blood red blobs of light advanced on one of the shining white constellations. When they met, the white lights suddenly began to go out. There was a frenzy of white movement, then the three red dots were alone. They started to move.

Ember struggled not to puke.

*

“Our priorities have just changed.” Syoko’s face was grim. “We need to save whoever’s left before our guests can get to them.”

“Oh, and how do you suggest we do that?” Malika’s tone was sarcastic. “Give them a stern talking to? We should be trying to save our own skins.”

Syoko turned to her, her expression murderous. “We have innocent people being hunted like animals. Those of us with consciences will be helping them. Feel free to find your way off the station alone.”

Ember stepped between them and quieted Malika before she could snap back a retort.

“Now,” Syoko said, satisfied to be back in control again. “We have to stop those raiding parties and get those pockets of survivors to the lifeboats.”

“It’s not going to be easy, Chief,” Lexa-Blue said, her tone even. “We aren’t exactly armed to the teeth here.”

“So we use ingenuity and we improvise.” Syoko’s tone brooked no disagreement. “Suggestions?”

“Uh, there’s another factor to consider here.” Vrick sounded troubled. “One of the raiding parties isn’t going after anyone. I think they’re making straight for the core.”

Syoko frowned. “But if the core is off-line, why bother?”

“To reboot it for their own benefit?” Keene asked, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If they planned to infiltrate with it down, they’d be prepared to carry out the whole mission that way.”

Initra’s eyes snapped wide. “A core leech! They could be planning to dump everything we have locked up in the databanks on the project. Then they scuttle us and build their own.”

They all stopped to consider it.

“Could very well be, but we need to beat them to the core no matter what,” Syoko said. “We need to get it online and call for help. The cutters should have seen the explosion and….”

Vrick interrupted. “I don’t think so, Chief. I checked the exterior scans, and I’m not reading them at all. Could just be the equipment, its all taken a pounding, but it could mean the cavalry ain’t coming.”

Syoko swore. “All right, people, it looks like we’re on our own. Goals are: the survivors, the core and the bad guys.” She moved back to the station schematic and pointed to a concentration of white lights. “This group of survivors is on Alpha Five. They’re far enough away that we might be able to get them to the boats before enemy forces can get them.”

“I’ll take that detail, Chief,” Tolan said.

She nodded. “Good. Take her,” pointing at Malika.

Malika sputtered, but Syoko whipped her head to face her. “Get those people on the lifeboats, and the last seat is yours. Get the hell off my station.” She turned her back on Malika. “The core?”

Initra stepped forward. There was a waver in her voice when she spoke. “That would be up to me. I’m the only one here with the knowledge or ability to figure out what they’ve done and try to fix it.”

“I may be able to help,” Seije said, stepping to Initra’s side. “I’ll go, too.”

“And I’ll be your escort in case of trouble. That leaves you four to make things difficult for our guests. Think you’re up to it?”

Lexa-Blue grinned. “Do I get to fight dirty?”

Syoko smiled back, the expression grim. “As dirty as you want. Use your imaginations, because that may be the only weapon you have.”

“I have this,” Ember said, sliding up his sleeve to reveal his Cuff.

Syoko looked sceptical. “What’s that, an example of your keen fashion sense?”

Ember extended his arm toward the wall, away from the group. There was a hiss-chink as the grapple shot from the Cuff and embedded itself in the wall. With a whisper of air, it released and retracted. “And that’s just for starters.”

“He’s on my team,” Lexa-Blue said.

“All right,” Syoko said, turning to Keene and Ophir. “That leaves you two.”

Ophir looked confidently at Keene. “Don’t worry, Chief. I designed this station. I think we can come up with something.”

“Take these.” Syoko distributed the bone fusers and laser scalpels among them. “Not much, I know, but it’s the best we can do. Work with Vrick through the public access panels. Figure out where they are and hit them as hard as you can. By whatever means necessary.”

No one noticed Ember pale.

“I have a question,” Keene said. “How are we going to get to them? Our people are on the other side of the bad guys. I’m assuming the Orbit Tram is off-line as well.”

Syoko checked with Vrick, who confirmed it.

“The maintenance tubes!” Ophir said, excitedly. Stabbing at the buttons of the computer interface, Ophir brought another layer of deep purple lines over the Gate’s schematic. He traced the new pattern with his finger. “Through the Gate itself. All we have to do is get to the nearest access and go down. There are flits all over the place in the tunnels. They’ll move us a hell of a lot faster than our feet.”

Syoko’s face took on a look of steely determination. “All right. We’re in business. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The access to the inner ring was over one hundred and fifty meters beyond the medical bay, so they had to move away from their targets, then backtrack. Malika looked about to complain, but Syoko’s withering glance kept her quiet. The older woman checked them all, making sure they were equipped as best they could be before she led them from their makeshift headquarters.

Set in the wall plates and made of the same gleaming pewter coloured metal, the hatch was easily five metres across, allowing for the transfer of heavy equipment from inner to outer rings.

“Okay, Vrick, open up,” Syoko said. As they had arranged, Vrick diverted power to the hatch’s mechanism, saving them the trouble of forcing the heavy segments open by hand. The hatch irised apart, revealing the access corridor to the Gate’s maintenance hull. They filed in, traversing the fifty metre tube quickly.

Once through the inner hatch, they were in an open staging area, a junction connecting the smaller maintenance tubes that lined the inner rings. Ducting and conduits crawled in and out of the tubes, like a stone frieze of writhing snakes. Banks of cabinets and monitors lined the walls, some with popped covers displaying their tangled inner workings. Thick fluid oozed, viscous and amber, from one of the damanged ducts. Keene stooped close to the leak and studied the goo, a quizzical look on his face. Ophir saw his expression and came close. “Careful, Keene. That’s pretty volatile stuff.”

“I’ve never seen it before. What is it?”

“It’s an electromagnetically mimetic gel. It has an unstable structure that mimics energy it’s exposed to, only very quickly and with extreme intensity. We use it to boost the Gate’s energy to open the Nexus point.” He stopped and opened an emergency locker and pulled out a leak sealer tube, spraying the jagged edges of the gash in the conduit. “Could cause a problem if it keeps on leaking.”

“What about the mess? Is it safe?” Syoko asked, worriedly.

Ophir merely smiled and pulled out his laser scalpel, adjusting the setting. Before anyone could stop him, he touched the scalpel’s tip to the edge of the gel spill. More than one mouth opened to shout a warning, but it was too late. The gel flashed in a sudden gout of intense, crimson-orange flame, then was gone. All that remained was a smear of soot on the wall. Ophir smiled devilishly at their stunned faces. “Over there, that’s what we’re looking for.”

He pointed past them at the bank of flits, three on each side of the multi-outlet recharging station. The practical vehicles were little more than flat sleds with anti-gravs added. Two seats and a simple control box were bolted to the front of the flit and a flat, cargo carrying bed surrounded by a low safety railing made up the rear. Ophir and Tolan quickly checked the charge on the flit’s fuel cells.

“These two are low, but this one’s good. Not full, but enough to get us where we need to go,” Ophir said.

Tolan looked up from the control box of the leftmost flit on his side of the recharger. “These three are all full. Someone was conscientious about their recharge procedure. Looks like our lucky day.” His voice was not without irony. Methodically, he set about detaching the charging cables.

“All right, everyone, you know your jobs,” Syoko said, climbing in to the driver’s seat of one of the flits. “Let’s do it to them before they do it to us.”

Seije offered the seat beside Syoko to Initra and climbed in the back, clutching his small pack of equipment in one hand and gripping the railing with the other. The others split up in their teams: Lexa-Blue and Ember, Ophir and Keene, Tolan and Malika, and boarded their flits. One engine, then two, then all four hummed to life.

Syoko turned her flit away from the others, in the direction of the core. Vrick had shown them that the enemy team headed for the core was travelling through the outer ring on the far side of the damaged arc. Even taking the shorter route in the opposite direction through the maintenance ring, it was unlikely they would beat the intruders to the core. Her hand on the impeller controls, she gunned the flit forward.

Behind her, the others moved their flits in tandem in the opposite direction.

*

The flits murmured, like the sound of people just on the verge of turning into a mob. Ember let it lull him, not into sleep, but a peaceful alpha mode. The last thing he needed was to be sleepy when they were heading into battle armed with nothing but a pocket knife to share between them. The motion also calmed the creeping, ugly memories of his childhood the bare maintenance tubes were bringing up. He had spent too many years scrounging through foul-smelling muck in tunnels just like this back on Scylla. The scrubbers were still running, but a long ago stink of rot filled his nose and he felt the pulpy garbage between his fingers.

Tell me again why I’m doing this, he thought.

He could see Keene’s back in the passenger seat of the flit just ahead. His head was down, and it looked like he was fiddling with something in his lap. Probably that pack of tools he keeps with him. Can’t say as I blame him, Ember thought. I’d want every edge I could come up with considering what we’re up against. Ember ran his fingers along the smooth metal of his Cuff, the closest thing he could think of to a prayer. A memory jab of that bruiser with the Cuff’s grapple between his eyes washed away Ember’s childhood musings, replacing them with a fresh shade of hell.

The walls of the tube sped by, blurring as his vision unfocused. With a shake of his head and some hard learned discipline, he bundled the ugly thoughts and tossed them off the flit. Refocusing, he paid attention to the torn sprays of optic cable innards and the goo slides along the wall. A crisp, metallic scent was in the air, like after an electrical storm, probably from the burst cables. The place was a mess. Glad I don’t have to clean all of this up, he thought.

His gaze drifted back to Keene and, gods help him, he felt something like tenderness. He had a wisp of a memory from the other night, cocooning against that lean, dark chest and actually blushed. Shit.

He noticed Lexa-Blue looking at him, the expression on her face like she was studying a science experiment and expected to find the answers to it all. He looked away. “Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

“Auto-pilot,” was all she said. Which he knew was a lie. Flits didn’t have auto-pilot and Ember told her so. She just snorted. “Squib, I was flying things more complex than this before my feet reached the floor.” She paused a second. “So, what’s up with you and Keene?”

He looked at her, stunned at her bluntness. She bored her eyes into his, waiting for an answer.

Her scrutiny was short-lived, though, as Ophir signalled for the little parade to stop.

The disgruntled purr of the flits’ engines died down one by one as they settled to the deck in a staging area like the one they had started out from, only in better shape. They climbed down from their vehicles and formed a group around a station monitor.

“Bring up the schematics, please, Vrick,” Ophir said. The monitor hummed alive and a holo of what was left of the station formed. The pattern of lights that represented the intruders and their prey had changed. There were fewer of the good guys left.

“Okay,” Tolan said. “Malika and I need to get to this group here and start getting them on the life-pods. The station’s built to withstand a lot more of a pounding than this, so without an evacuation signal, they’ll be staying put.” His finger stabbed at the crimson dots that were the bad guys. “Which means they’re sitting ducks for these assholes.”

“So, we need to run interference for you and give you time to get the evacuation underway.” Lexa-Blue had a look on her face that made Ember think she was going to enjoy this a lot. Of course, after seeing them cut that group down in cold blood, he had to admit he was looking forward to doing some damage himself.

Tolan was nodding. “Right. Just hold them off as long as you can and keep them from getting here.” He pointed to a section of the station’s arc, and drew a route with his index finger. “Start here and here. They seem to be moving in a precise, military-type search pattern. They’re not moving directly on the survivors, so I’d say they don’t have sensor contact. They’re doing a search-and-destroy. Vrick?”

“You’re right. The main bio sensors are hooked into the AI core, which means they lost the sensors when they cut off the core. With the quantum resonances coming from the Nexus point, nothing portable could work in here.”

“Which means we can get to the survivors before they can,” Ember said. Even he could hear the relief in his own voice and right then, he didn’t give a shit. “Do they know that you have the scan online?”

“No.” Vrick’s voice was firm. “I’ve got everything on silent running. They’ll have no idea we’re watching them. The element of surprise will be in our favour.”

Ophir studied the schematic then looked up. “If we take these secondary corridors and maintenance tunnels, we can stay out of their way and set up a few surprises for them. Look, here are the ZeroBall courts, and there are small eatery stations all along this level. An infirmary here. What do you think? Can we make some mischief?”

Keene smiled back at him. “Show me what this place has going for it, and I can make it work for us.”

Lexa-Blue looked at Ember. “I guess that leaves us to take the low tech approach. Hack and slash. Up for it?”

Ember felt a seething determination run through him, not even feeling afraid of it. “Oh, yeah.”

“Good,” Lexa-Blue said. “Just stay behind if they start shooting.” She indicated her steelskin. “This won’t stop everything, but it will give us some protection.”

Keene looked at Ophir. “That’s good advice for you, too.”

Lexa-Blue shared a sardonic smile with Keene. “The human shields are at it again, eh?”

“No doubt,” Keene said. “Tell me again why we keep doing this?”

“I’ll let you know once I figure that out.”

“All right,” Tolan said. “Here we go. Come on, Malika, it’s through here.” He led her to a hatch and opened it. She hesitated a second, catching Ember’s eye. He tried his best to reassure her with a look, but he wasn’t all that confident himself. She turned and followed Tolan through the hatch.

Ember felt a sudden threat of tears, but fought them off. Keene was at his side, hand warm on Ember’s shoulder. “Are you up for this? Really? You may have to do something you don’t want to.”

Ember knew he meant he might have to kill again. One of those bastards might come in to his sights, and he might have to end his or her life. Intentionally and cold-bloodedly. This time the thought was less sickening, but only slightly. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Keene looked deep into Ember’s eyes, forehead furrowed and Ember felt like he was trying to see deep into what he laughingly called his soul. Ember guessed Keene believed him, or maybe he just decided to let it go, because his brow softened and he squeezed his shoulder, giving Ember a gentle kiss. He turned back to Lexa-Blue. “So, partner. Dibs?”

Lexa-Blue looked nonchalant and pointed to one of the bloody coloured clumps of light in the display. “We’ll take them.”

Ember knew he would never forget that instant, because he looked at her and suddenly, he knew this wasn’t an abstract choice for her. Those were the ones who had committed that first brutal, casual murder in the medical room’s holo. She had watched them, tracked them and was eagerly awaiting the chance to inflict some harm. She looked at Ember, challenge in her eyes. “Sound okay?”

In that second, he knew he could kill again, and it scared the fuck out of him. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Seeing the doors, splattered with blunt warnings to unauthorized personnel, Shackle turned to the others and signalled with a sharp gesture. They stopped, Phasia nodding. The gun-metal doors led to the outer monitoring station of the Core, and beyond that, their objective. Phasia and Gizmo stood back as Shackle moved to the ready.

Counting off in her head, Shackle primed her rifle with a sharp click-snap. She experienced a tiny frisson of excitement at the sound, a sense of rightness about it. Reaching out, she slapped the door’s lock and it slid open. She stepped through, rifle ready, and instantly took stock of the occupants of the room. Five technicians, all unarmed. She saw the shocked expressions on their faces just as she fired. Her sweep was precise, catching them all in her arc of screaming blaster fire. They jerked and fell. After a pause to ensure they were no longer a threat, she shouldered her gun and called to the others. “Secure!”

Phasia and Gizmo came into the room, casually picking their way through the jumble of bodies on the floor. Neither one of them paid any attention to the rattle of dying breath coming from beneath their feet. They were already opening their pouches and extracting their equipment to break through the doors into the Core proper. With precise economy of movement, they unfurled tool holders in an array on the floor: probes, picks and cutters tucked into pockets. Shackle stood back near the monitor room’s door. This was their show now, and she knew it.

Nonchalantly wiping a smear of blood from the locking mechanism with her sleeve, Phasia slapped a patch pad on it and closed her eyes. Against the dark of her eyelids, strings of information from the lock flowed in bright, orderly lines. Her node hummed with the layers of locking and defence that held them from the Core. She tested along the streams of data, and the patterns of energy burned crimson at her touch. She attempted to peel away the first layer. Like taffy, it resisted her touch, stretching and sticking without giving way. It didn’t disturb her. She knew the security would be more than she could handle on this level of intrusion. Setting the connection to idle, she opened her eyes and looked at Gizmo. “Just like we thought.”

She closed her eyes and waited as Gizmo did the same. In a moment, she sensed him in the link with her, his presence spiky and tart, feeling him begin his own assessment of the layers of defence.

Gizmo opened his eyes and began picking through his tools. Phasia reached into her own selection and pulled out a virus chip from the selection. Implanting it, she checked its progress. The streams of data paled and skewed as the codeworm infected the locks. Strands of info-light peeled away under the virus’s onslaught, weakening the locks but not enough to break through. Again, it didn’t concern her. She had prepared herself for a worse task than this. She turned, metaphorically, to the spectral presence of Gizmo in their link to the lock system. *Go.*

Gizmo went to work on the actual mechanism of the lock, prying and poking with slicers and probes. He peeled away the front panel of the palm reader, leaving it dangling from its connecting cables. With surgical precision, he cut and pried at the mechanism, splicing in components of his own. After a few moments, an alarm hooted and a voice called out in a stern, artificial voice, “Warning. Unauthorized attempted entry. Warning. Unauthorized attempted…”

Gizmo jammed a pick into the tangle of connections and twisted savagely. The voice cut off sharply. He grinned sheepishly up at Shackle. “Oops.”

She looked down at his disgust glaring on her face. “Come on. Time’s ticking.”

Phasia inserted another chip into the locking mechanism, checking its effects, then chose another. Sparks erupted from the panel, almost singeing Gizmo’s eyebrows. His pug-like face contorted.

“Hey, watch it with those things. I like this mug the way it is. Third degree burns do not become me.”

Phasia paid him no notice, concentrating on the mechanical language flowing through her node to her brain. Seizing the threads, she held them and twisted them to her will, restructuring the lock’s simple brain. Feeling the first layer of the lock give way, she opened her eyes and looked up at Shackle. “First layer open.”

The massive outer doors gave way, sliding heavily open. Beyond them, a short corridor looked deceptively quiet. “Be careful, the defence field is still up,” she said to the others.

Gizmo looked at her sourly, as if she had insulted his intelligence. “My turn, again then.” He pulled a sphere from his tools, shiny but studded with sharp spines. He pushed a stud on its surface and a trio of blinkies cycled, then glowed steadily. Taking the sphere, he waved them back and, once assured they were out of the way, he lobbed it into the corridor and ducked.

Gouts of mini-lightning exploded in the corridor, focussing their fury on the sphere. The refractor swallowed the hellish energy, altered and reversed it. All along the walls, the field’s emitters charred and burned, overloaded by their own mutated energy. When the field failed, the sphere dropped to the floor. In the silence, wisps of smoke floated by.

Dark satisfaction showed on Shackle’s face. “All right, one down. Start on the next and I’ll set up the drill.”

*

When the hatch refused to budge, Tolan punched out an override code and pulled sharply on the manual release lever. The hatch groaned and swung open. With a sweaty grin, Tolan offered his hand to Malika.

Grimacing, she swatted his hand away. She stepped through the hatch, sweeping brusquely past him. “Get over it, Boy Scout. Chivalry is so over.”

Stunned, Tolan just watched her for a second. “I was just trying to be helpful. Is this a problem for you?”

She spun on him, swiping sweaty, lank hair out of her eyes. “Look, Deputy Do-Right. I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and I’ve dealt with things that would have you wetting your pants. So don’t go all big brother on me, okay?”

A vein pulsed at Tolan’s forehead as he visibly tried to control his temper. “Rule number one in these situations is that we’re in this together. I’m not trying to insinuate you can’t take care of yourself. As a matter of fact, I’m staking my life on the hope that you can.”

He shouldered roughly past her, scanning the forks in the passageway. Settling on a direction, he stalked off, not even checking to see if she was following. With no other alternative, she fell in to step behind him.

After a few minutes, she spoke again, her tone softer now. “Look.” She paused. “I’m sorry.”

Tolan walked a few paces farther, then stopped. A moment passed, and she saw his anger ease from the set of his shoulders. He glanced back at her with a smile. “That sounded like it hurt.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at the edges. “It did. Where the hell are we going, anyway?”

“There’s a chapel on level six, arc four. The Chief set it as the emergency rendezvous. Disaster protocol says all survivors head there. We find whoever’s made it there and get them on the pods and off the station before those bastards can kill any more.”

“And hope that they don’t get to us while we’re all together.”

Tolan’s face went stony. “Exactly.”

They walked along in silence for several more minutes. Eventually, Tolan signalled for her to stop, then brushed a finger to his lips for quiet. They were on the edge of the main corridor that ran the circumference of the Gate. Tolan checked both directions, then stepped out into the mall, motioning for her to follow. As she did, she saw the rows of empty shops and remembered something Keene had said about the station being mostly unoccupied. Clutter was strewn along the walkways, remnants of the explosion, she assumed. She followed Tolan in the direction of a set of simply decorated, wooden doors farther down and to the left.

As they came closer, she saw the stylized graphic that marked their destination, a representation of doors swung open, a ray of light emerging. Tolan noticed her scrutiny. “Its doors are always open. They tried to include symbols of various faiths, but there were just too many. I think it’s a nice image.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I got the symbolism, Blondie. Thanks.”

Malika had no use for religion in general, but Tolan didn’t seem all that interested. “They should be inside,” he said as he pushed open the door. It swung wide on its gimbal hinges, revealing a patch of dark that Tolan stepped into.

Malika heard a grunt and saw a flash of something erupt from the darkness and tackle Tolan, entangling him in a heap on the floor. She rushed forward to his aid and felt hands close on her arms. Oh no, she thought fiercely, not this time. She kicked out viciously and was rewarded with a howl of pain and the release of the grip on her arm. She felt someone move in on her and lashed out with an elbow, hearing a groan of breath as she connected with someone’s stomach. Lights flashed on and she saw a couple of dozen people, armed with makeshift weapons, all ready to attack. Before they could move, she heard a voice cry out.

“Piri, stop! It’s Tolan!”

The dishevelled bundle of fury wrestling with Tolan on the floor suddenly ceased and pulled back on her haunches. She was dirty and breathing heavily, but would have been pretty without the look of mistrust and hatred on her face. Recognising the deputy, relief surged across her face. “Pheris! Thank the Gods! I’m so sorry.”

She stood and offered her hand to him, helping him up. Once he was standing, she hugged him fiercely, her tough fighter’s stance crumbling. He tousled her hair, gently, feeling her tears against his neck. “Come on, Piri, it’s okay now.”

Malika watched Tolan comfort the woman for a moment or two, then looked around the chapel. It looks like the bad guys were fighting in here, she thought. The curtains from the confessionals had been ripped down and used as blankets to cover the wounded people laying on the pews. Prayer mats had been stacked on the floor to provide makeshift beds for others. The votive candles they’d clustered together blazed with a comforting light.

The woman named Piri pulled out of Tolan’s embrace and looked at him. Words tumbled out of her. “You don’t know how horrible it’s been. There was that explosion and then the bodies we kept finding on the way here. So much blood. We kept hearing the screams, and they’d just go silent all of a sudden. There was nothing I could do. I just kept collecting anyone I could find and bringing them here.” Fresh tears flowed.

Tolan held her away and wiped her face, leaving streaks in the dirt. “I know, Piri, I know. You did a great job. But we have hostiles on the station, and we have to get all of these people to the pods. We can cry about it later, okay?”

Piri nodded, visibly pulling herself together. She swiped away more tears and stood straight.

Tolan made a circuit of the room, checking on the severity of everyone’s injuries, then assigned the strongest to help the weakest. When he was sure they were all ready to move, he smiled a dazzling smile and even Malika could feel its warmth and power. “All right, let’s move these people out.”

*

Keene popped the panel open and started fishing around in the innards of the machine. He quickly found the interlocks and pulled them free. With a fuser pen, he set to work on the board, altering its circuits. Minutes later, he finished, popping it back into place, then moved on to the actuators, jury-rigging a primitive proximity switch. Satisfied, he closed the panel and examined the selection board of the food-synth. After a moment’s thought, he made a selection, choosing amount and temperature, then activated it and set it on hold. Satisfied, he went on to the next machine.

After he had rigged several more of the machines, Ophir stuck his head around the corner. “I’m set up here. Vrick says one of our boys is using some vision augments. It gives me an idea. Want to help?”

Keene grinned a mischievous grin. “Lead on.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

More goddamn tunnels, Ember thought. Why did it have to be more tunnels? Too much grey metal with no personality, just like the hellpit where he was born. He was only too glad to get out into the corridors again.

After they had left Keene and Ophir, Lexa-Blue consulted with Vrick and they made a beeline for their targets. Their quarries were scouring one of the habitat levels, and as they got closer, she and Ember could hear the burning hiss of blaster fire. He remember that sound all too well from Scylla’s undertown. The “peace guard” as they so laughingly called themselves had used their guns like other people shake hands. It was their calling card.

The hairs on Ember’s neck had always stood up when he heard that sound.

Vrick kept them out of range of enemy sight and sensors, one level below. They were executing something she called a standard sweep pattern, moving from the top level to the bottom, methodically checking each room. Ember and Lexa-Blue were moving fast, searching for anything that could make their job easier.

Some job. Taking on a cadre of mercs with no weapons of our own, Ember thought. And I thought being a thief was stupid some days.

“Ember, over here.” Lexa-Blue was standing over a ‘bot, some kind of cleaner by the looks of it. The metallic green cylinder had stopped dead in its tracks, all of its arms stuck out in all directions. It looked ludicrous, like someone had told it to stick-em-up. Ember was sure if the thing had a face, it would have been frozen in terror.

“Looks like it’s shorted out,” Lexa-Blue said. “Must have taken a heavy jolt when the core went out. Wonder if its fried or just off-line?”

She ran her hands over the surface until she came across the power gauges. “Looks like it still has power. Must just have fried the control routines and blanked the task list. Vrick, any chance you can get it moving?”

*Give me a pico-sec,* Vrick answered through their nodes. *Got it!*

The ‘bot glowed to life. All of the various arms and attachments folded back in to their compartments, and it sat humming quietly. Waiting for instructions, Ember supposed.

*Sorry, a chunk of its memory was blown by the power surge. It won’t be able to handle much in the way of duties, but it should respond to a few commands.*

“Good, that’s all we’re going to need,” Lexa-Blue said. “All we need is a decoy to get the bad guys’ attention. Send it to intercept their path and have it make a lot of noise and general disruption.”

“Planning some spring cleaning?” Ember said, more sarcastically than he should have. “Going to dust them to death?”

She looked at him, her expression sour, and he knew it was no more than he deserved. I have got to watch my mouth, he thought.

“No. All we need is something to get their attention, distract them while we attack.”

“And we do that how?”

“Do I have to think of everything?” she retorted, with a smile on her face.

“Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter”

“So I gathered.”

Okay, I’m obviously not going to be able to dodge this bullet forever, he thought. He knew he would have to figure out exactly how to respond when she saved him the trouble.

“Relax, squib. When you’ve been friends and partners as long as Keene and I have, you know when something’s up with each other. You can recognize the moods; you can practically smell the pheromones in the air. I don’t have any problems here unless you hurt him. Then I kill you.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring.”

She smiled and it made her look devilish. “We can talk about that later. We have some traps to set. Look around and see what you can find.”

They spent the next few minutes searching the compartments around them and the hallway. Finally, Ember noticed a chunk of wall was peeled back, must have torn free in the explosion. On a hunch, he stuck his head through the hole: it was wide enough to get his head and shoulder through. Pipes and ducting ran along the inside of the wall, optics and such. It looked an awful lot like the stuff they had seen in the access tunnel. Which meant…

“Lexa-Blue, can you find me some light? I can’t see anything in here.”

She pried a light panel free from the ceiling, pulling it to the hole on a leash of cabling. Wrestling it into position, she leaned over him. “Any help?”

There was a bit more light, but not much. What he thought he might find in there was too low to be seen, even with the light. “Not enough. Help me get some of these panels free.”

Between the two of them, they tore away some of the wall’s panels, revealing more of the inner guts. After three panels, he saw what he had hoped would be there. “Is that what I think it is?”

Lexa-Blue peered between the open panels and, with a chuckle, confirmed it. “I like your style, squib. Let’s do it.”

Close to the floor was one of those red-striped conduits that carried the explosive gel Ophir had pointed out to them back where they picked up the flits. Now all they had to do was get it open.

“Vrick. Any ideas?”

*I’ve checked the schematics and there should be a bleed off valve a couple of centimetres from the wall. Just don’t try to use anything hot to get it open or you’ll be fried.*

“Does this stuff go off from manhandling?” Ember said.

*No, not according to the specs. Only electromagnetic and thermal energy.*

“I guess it’s elbow grease then.” They levered themselves into the wall cavity and got a good hold on the pipe. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

Even against their combined strength, the valve wanted to hold fast. Ember felt his muscles protesting, wondering if something would rupture before the valve gave way, and he could tell that Lexa-Blue was straining just as hard. With one final heave, the valve broke free ever so slightly. The volatile gel oozed from the break in the pipe.

“We need a lever, something to pry that pipe free.” Lexa-Blue said, turning to find one.

He had an idea. “Here, let me.” With a thought, he released the Cuff’s micro-grapple, slowly playing out about a metre of the cable. He attached the grapple to the pipe, just shy of the valve and the break. Then he popped the clasps of the Cuff and took it off. “We need something strong to anchor it to.”

“How about this?” Lexa-Blue pointed to a stanchion in one of the emergency bulkhead doors. It looked like a handle put there to let someone pull the bulkhead door closed in case of a power failure.

“Perfect.” He played out some more slack in the cable and quickly fastened the Cuff around the shaped bar of metal.

*Better get it in gear, folks, our friends have finished their sweep of the level above and our on their way down. They’ll be coming from your right.*

“Now or never,” Lexa-Blue said. For a second, Ember thought he saw confidence in her eyes.

“Here goes.” Ember touched the tiny stud on the Cuff’s edge that activated the winch if the Cuff wasn’t node-linked. With a barely audible whir, the cable tightened, and there was a grinding whine of metal. With a squeal, the pipe finally pulled away from its moorings and the gel began to ooze, thickly and freely, down the wall and onto the floor.

“Okay, so now we find a hidey-hole and wait,” Lexa-Blue said, thumbing her fuser to standby. She twirled it showily and pointed to an alcove. “Come on.”

As he followed her, she dug her heel into the growing pool of gel and trailed a line along the carpet to their hiding place. As she carefully cleaned the remains off her boot, she saw the confusion on his face. “Can’t have a bomb without a fuse.”

*

Dagger watched as the flare of Zadi’s gun lit up her face. “I think he’s dead, Zadi. You can stop now.”

The hell-bright glare faded, but the monstrous look of pleasure remained for a moment or two as she looked at the gory blackened pulp that was all that remained of a body in the doorway. A shiver of pure pleasure ran through her body and a corresponding one of revulsion ran through Dagger.

That is one twisted gunt, he thought. The sheer joy she and Zed took in the killing frightened him. Despite the drying smears of blood on his clothes where his blades were sheathed, ample evidence of his own killing today, he took no joy in it. It was merely his job, the position he was contracted for. He followed Vek’s orders because Vek held his contract. Vek paid him. That was that.

But Zed and Zadi, seemed to wet their pants with rapture when they killed, and their pleasure grew with the body count. And in the inevitable downtime, they were listless and irritable. Vek practically had to confine them to quarters to keep them out of trouble.

Dagger sneered inwardly. Not that confining them to quarters was much of a punishment for those two. Exactly what went on between the twins behind closed doors was endless fodder for speculation on the Stiletto.

Zed was at Zadi’s side and turned to Dagger. “Come on.”

Dagger watched them go, side by side like the bookends they seemed to be. Both were nearly two metres tall and identically muscled despite their opposite genders. Their washed out blond hair was the same length tied into the same ponytails. Even the planes of their faces followed the same lines, almost as if they were identical, rather than fraternal twins. Dagger knew enough of genetics to know that extensive skin jobs had been needed to carve those faces like that, to shape those bodies into such similar forms. The thought turned his stomach.

He was not a man easily unnerved, no man who made his life by killing could be. Especially one who killed by the blade. But these two made his skin crawl. They ate, slept, and showered together; seemed even to breathe in unison. And no one in their crew had failed to notice the tenderness between them seemed to go far beyond the bond of siblings.

A sudden fragment of sound stirred Dagger from his reveries. He froze, seeing Zed and Zadi had heard it too. With sharp hand motions, he indicated to them it came from down the corridor to the left. Shifting their weapons to the ready, they waited.

The sounds increased, and they were able to identify them as the drone of servos. From around the corner came a beaten cleaning ‘bot, all of its peripherals extended. Registering their presence, it started to hoot, the upper portion of its body spinning. For a moment it seemed as if the machine was going to vibrate itself into pieces. Clouds of dust escaped from its receptacles, fogging the air. Glass cleaner sprayed in great arcs, wetting them as a vacuum hose waved wildly in their direction. Zadi cursed as the cleaner hit her in the face and went in her eyes. Zed fired at the ‘bot, and it exploded in a shower of shrapnel.

“What the fuck was that?!” he said, offering his hand to Zadi.

“Must have been caught in the core crash,” she said, blinking furiously and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Tears streamed as finally her vision began to clear.

They heard the woman’s voice at the same time, coming from ahead, the direction the ‘bot had come from. It sounded panicked, repeating, “no, no, no.”

Again with hand signals, Zed indicated he would take point. Still blinking, Zadi nodded. Anticipation glowed on his face. With soft steps unusual in someone his size, he rounded the corner. Dagger followed, smoothly unsheathing a throwing blade.

Gun aimed, Zed moved forward. He registered the slick spill of gel across the floor, not knowing what it was. He stepped closer, raising his foot to step over it.

A wall of fire exploded around him, engulfing him. He felt his clothes burn, then his skin, faster than he could react.

Zadi ran at her partner’s first scream, rounding the corner to see him surrounded by a fireball of screaming orange heat. Before her eyes, the flames died as quickly as they had come. Zed teetered for a fraction of a second, then collapsed in a heap. Zadi was at his side instantly, letting out a gasp as she saw his charred flesh, his blond hair now patchy black ash. She kneeled at his side, unsure how to touch him, how to help. He looked up at her, a bubble of spit at his blistered lips, as he wheezed for breath. Her stomach turned as she realized parts of his clothing had fused to the charred mess of his skin.

“It’s okay, baby,” she purred, a quaver in her voice. “Hang on, baby. Just hang on.”

Dagger came up to her side and looked down at Zed dispassionately. He kneeled at Zadi’s side and leaned to whisper in her ear. “He’s gone. We have a job to do.”

Zadi let out a banshee screech and shoved him away, scrabbling for her gun. Before she could aim it, he held a knife at her throat. “We have a job to do,” Dagger repeated.

Zadi turned and saw terror flash through Zed’s eyes as three last, rattling breaths scraped in his throat. Then the light in his eyes suddenly dimmed.

A howl of sheer anguish tore loose from Zadi’s throat, and Dagger knew she was no threat to him any more. He slowly sheathed his blade and sat back. He watched as all feeling drained from Zadi’s face. There was a horrifying moment of total blankness, then simmering rage replaced it. After barely a moment, she stood, cocking her rifle and checking its power.

“Come on, we have a job to do.” She turned, without even a second glance in Zed’s direction. She took two steps, then stopped, turning back to Dagger. “When we find them, they’re mine.”

Dagger nodded, making the promise hand sign. She returned it and strode away.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

With his node’s chrono display superimposed at the corner of his field of vision, Keene popped the latches of the door’s mechanism and inserted the laser scalpel. As the seconds ticked relentlessly by, he fired short bursts with the scalpel, fusing the specific junctions of circuitry. He worked quickly, all too aware of the imminent arrival of their opponents. This was the last of the doors, and time was running out. Keene cursed as a jolt of energy numbed his fingers. Taking precious seconds, Keene pulled his fingers from the lock and rubbed them, then stuck them in his mouth.

*Tell Ophir to get ready.* Vrick’s voice was tense but confident. *You’ve got a minute, maybe two.*

Cursing again, Keene threw himself into jimmying the last of the circuits. Three quick flashes of the laser scalpel lit his face and he stood, slapping the plate back in place. With a quick tug on the cable to the door with a glob of melted metal, Keene was sure that they were as ready as they could be.

Their pursuers came around the corner, one curve of the hall away. Two figures registered in his vision just as he disappeared from sight: one with a band of mirrored dark across his eyes, the other with sickly, ashen skin. “They’re here!” he shouted, a flash of real fear pulsing through him.

Keene slammed the door panel and it slid closed. Through the closing gap, he saw their foes raise their guns at him.

He pushed Ophir ahead of him and they ran, dimly registering stray blaster bolts through the door’s opening. One whined perilously close to his head and two others pummeled his back, the heat and force rippling across his steelskin. He peeled around the corner, stopping to watch for his pursuers.

“You’re up,” Keene said to Ophir.

This, Ophir thought, is the part of the plan I hate.

*

The door closed, and Looker shouldered his weapon. Rage simmered just below the surface. This was the fifth door that had closed in their faces, allowing their quarry to escape. Darke slapped the release, and the door slid halfway open, exactly as the previous four had done.

“Fuck,” Looker spat, his rage spilling over. Darke’s face was rigid. He said nothing as he shouldered between the door and the jamb. Looker added his weight and they pushed the door along its slider. Fury gave them strength, and the portal slammed open. They muscled through.

And were caught in a glittering rain.

Darke hissed in pain as the barrage sliced at him. Looker gave a sharp howl as something stuck him. A pail of scalpels and assorted blades had been balanced over the door to topple on them when they forced it open. With a grunt, Looker pulled a skewer free from where it had pierced the skin of his arm. Blood gleamed red against the pallor of Darke’s cheek. He swiped it away, but it welled again almost instantly. He licked the crimson away and cold light gleamed in his eyes.

“You okay?”

With one hand applying pressure to the wound on his arm, Looker merely nodded.

“Let’s go.”

*

Ophir watched their avalanche of metal fall and waited a moment, seeing Keene frantically tearing into the access panel and sloppily reprogramming with his other hand. Just as their pursuers started to move again, he popped far enough out of hiding to let himself be seen, then ran. He heard a cry from the two and footsteps pelted after him.

Oh, yeah, he thought. I hate this plan.

A stitch formed in his side as he ran, pushing himself farther than he thought he could go. He had to reach the lounge at the ZeroBall court before they caught him. He experienced a moment of panic, suddenly sure he wouldn’t make it, feeling the whisper of death at his back.

Then he saw the entrance to the darkened lounge, feeling waves of glowing relief at the sight of the etched glass panels. He bounded between them and shot across the room to hide behind a table. The dim room was lit only by the ZeroBall court beyond, and his breath pounded in his lungs as he desperately strove to stay quiet, hearing the pounding footsteps closing in on him.

Hazarding a glance, he saw his pursuers erupt into the room, smoothly sweeping their guns to cover it.

The pale one spoke. “I don’t see him.”

“Don’t worry, Darke,” the one with the banded visor answered cockily. “I’m switching to IR.”

Ophir’s heart lurched. Even in the darkness, he would glow like a star on infrared scan. Before he could panic, the lights in the court suddenly died, leaving the room pitch dark. Right on schedule, Ophir thought. Take that, boys.

The one called Darke swore, but the other just chuckled. “Don’t worry, man. I have enough power in this implant to see anything.”

Vrick’s voice whispered through Ophir’s node. *Get ready.*

All of the lights, court and court side, exploded to life. Looker doubled over and slapped his hands over his eyes, then dropped to his knees. Squinting against the light, Darke leaned in close, one hand on his shoulder, still checking the room for signs of their prey. “You okay?”

Looker unbent slowly and spoke through pain clenched teeth. “Yeah, just takes a second to compensate.”

Darke spun suddenly at a chirp from the bank of food synths, his gun flying to the ready, and as Keene dove through a door that slid shut after him. Looker stumbled to follow and aim in that direction as well. There was a moment of stillness, then another chirp.

Thick, steaming sugar syrup projectile-vomited from the dispenser slots, dousing them and eliciting cries as it burned their exposed skin. They bounced in an excruciating dance as the syrup crystallized and broke away, taking patches of skin with it.

Okay, Ophir thought, my turn again. He sprang from his hiding place and jumped up on the ledge that ringed the lounge and separated it from the ZeroBall court below.

“There he is!” Looker shouted, blisters on his face. With a bellow of rage, Darke bolted after their quarry.

Ophir leapt.

The angled slipstreams of gravity caught him and he twisted, bouncing between two gravitic planes with ease. The simple motion sent him rocketing off at ninety degrees, his flight suddenly parallel to the floor. Hitting the fifth meridian, he kicked off again, this time shooting straight up. Taking only a second to orient himself, he saw his goal, the entrance leading to the locker rooms.

At the ledge, Darke steadied his weapon and tried to take aim, but Ophir was too fast. His acrobatics and multiple changes of direction were all but impossible to predict or follow.

*Vrick, ball!* Ophir called.

The ZeroBall, coloured in swirls of black and white, burst from the service chute. Ophir caught it, twisted in the air and flipped suddenly, launching the ball at Darke.

His volley was too fast and unforeseen for Darke to avoid. It struck him squarely in the head. It wasn’t hard enough to do much damage, but it enraged the mercenary beyond all reason. Looker shouted for him to stop, but it was too late. Howling with fury, Darke leaped from the ledge.

Fumbling at first, he seemed to get his bearings quickly amid the translucent gravitic panes. Within moments, Darke was swimming clumsily, but relentlessly towards Ophir.

Uh oh, time to go, Ophir thought. *Ready for the coup de grace, Vrick?*

*Any time you are, providing it’s fast.*

With two graceful flips, he was through the locker doors. Being experienced, he was ready for the sudden change from variable to fixed gravity. His hands shot out and grabbed the railing, and he came to rest and turned back to the court.

*Go!*

The variable gravities of the court suddenly contorted, turning inside out at Vrick’s command. Completely unprepared, Darke lost his balance, but didn’t fall. With a sharp, stomach wrenching crackle, Vrick then condensed the gravity planes into a tight knot, catching Darke at the locus. Where the gravities met, bones gave way with a grisly snap.

Ophir’s stomach lurched at the sound, bile suddenly gagging him, but he didn’t have time to indulge the reflex. Blaster fire from Looker’s gun singed the doorway above his head. He plunged out of the opening and through the doors to the station to meet Keene.

*

The persistent, teeth rattling vibrations of the sonic drill were just starting to irritate Shackle when Phasia announced they were through.

“Pop it and let’s go,” Shackle barked. “We’re on a schedule.”

Phasia and Gizmo exchanged a glance that spoke of shared impatience with Shackle’s self-indulgence in her own power. Phasia attached a cracker to the lock mechanism and digits flashed across the device’s face. “We’re in.”

They hustled their equipment into the vast room beyond, the core expanding in all directions around them. One monitoring terminal marked the connection between the AI gestalt and the station, a half ring of panels. Beyond it, a wall extended almost a kilometre above their heads. Gleaming black cylinders studded the face of the wall, each a separate AI matrix with a diameter the height of a man.

Gizmo looked up at the immense wall with barely contained lust. His voice was reverent. “It’s like something out of a holo!”

“Keep it in your pants, Giz,” Shackle muttered. “Just get the link established.”

Gizmo scowled at her but said nothing, opening the cases containing the tightline linkages. Phasia stepped forward and took the link, then extended her hand. Five nano-spines extended from beneath the fingernails of her left hand. She placed her hand on the terminal, hearing a chink as they invaded the circuitry.

Her back arched suddenly and she emitted a gasp that ran from fear to amazement to pleasure before it was done. Her head lolled forward, then rolled to one side before finally straightening. Her eyes opened and for a second, she seemed to have eternity in her eyes.

“So many minds,” she purred. “All for one and one for all. All the voices.”

Shackle gripped her shoulders hard. “Stay grounded, Phasia. Make the link so we can get out of here and get paid.”

Phasia’s eyes peered through Shackle as if she were nothing more than the flimsiest of illusions, then focussed. “Right, I’m on it.”

Satisfied, Shackle released her and stepped back to let them work.

*

In the hallway beyond, Syoko, Initra, and Seije waited quietly, eyes closed. Vrick poured the security camera feed from the core monitoring room directly to their nodes. Framed in the doorway to the core, they could just make out what was going on inside the core chamber.

*Any ideas as to what they’re doing in there?* Syoko’s tension seeped through the link.

*They said something about a link.* Initra answered. *Can anyone see their equipment?*

*Let me see what I can do,* Vrick said.

All three of them fought a wave of disorientation as Vrick zoomed the security camera in closer. The focus blurred, then suddenly cleared, framing the case of equipment on the floor.

Seije recognized it first, but Initra overlapped his thought barely a second later *A tightline deck!*

*A what?* Syoko said.

Seije explained. *Like instantaneous communication. One end of the tightline connection is here, the other could be anywhere. Activate it and whatever info goes in this end, comes out the other pretty much instantly.*

*Which means they don’t want to destroy the core.* Initra said excitedly. *Only dump its contents somewhere else.*

*It means they don’t want to destroy the core yet.* Syoko corrected grimly. *You can bet they won’t leave anything behind when they’re done.*

*So we have to stop them.* Initra said.

*Not yet.* Seije said. The two women focussed on him. *I mean, whoever is on the other end of that link is probably the person behind all of this. If they establish the link, we can trace it back to its source.*

*So,* Syoko’s thoughts were icy. *We wait.*

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I think you’d better hurry,” Lexa-Blue said.

Ember didn’t turn to face her, concentrating on the energy scalpel in his hand and the precise cut he was making along the floor of the elevator. The tool’s glow lit the side of his face as he focussed on the task at hand. “Relax. Vrick says we have time. And I’ve got this thing cranked as high as it can go. Which is not comfortable on my hands.”

She had also shown him how shifting the tool’s settings and snapping off a safety guard inside the tool’s casing could turn the surgical scalpel into an improvised energy shiv. “How did you learn to do that?” he had asked.

“Misspent youth.”

He was at a right angle to her, having used the grav shift in the Cuff to climb sideways up the wall so he could cut away at the elevator car’s floor.

She smirked and returned her eyes to her work. “Stay on target. It’s not brain surgery.”

He didn’t look reassured. “I’ve seen what those one of those things can do to a human body. I’m going to be careful, okay?”

Something in his tone told her she couldn’t push it any further, so she suppressed any more smart remarks and watched him work. As the fuser ate through the plate steel, she had to give Ember credit. She knew she was a forceful personality, the kind that could easily run roughshod over people. After much comment from Keene, she had been forced to examine the trait and recognize it as the defence mechanism it was. Unlike many others, including Keene, Ember had not backed down. Despite her efforts to keep him off balance, he had stood his ground, made his opinions known. Their current scheme had even been his idea.

“I’m through on this edge. Moving over to the other side.”

As she watched, he deactivated the fuser and slithered around, moving with precise, careful movements, and then he had walked up the wall and across the ceiling to the opposite side, lit up the fuser again and began to cut. It was several minutes before he finished with his cuts. “There. Almost done. I can get the rest from out there. Grab my hands and help me down from here.”

He walked back up to the ceiling and, with his face turned away from her, arched his back until his hands were within her reach.

She braced herself against the wedged open elevator doors and grabbed both of his hands, feeling the warmth and seeing him flinch a bit at the contact. “Ready?”

He nodded, cut out the grav shift, and swung awkwardly down to her. She put an arm around his waist when he seemed about to teeter back into the car. As one, they pulled away from the opening to the elevator car.

“One last bit and it’s ready,” he said, dropping from her arms to the floor. She took hold of his legs. Lying on his other side in the elevator car, he reactivated the fuser and aimed again at the edge where floor and wall met. The tool’s beam burned through the carpeting, sending up the pungent stench of burning carpet fibre. Their noses wrinkled as the fumes swirled in the confined space. With a change in the pitch of the sound, the fuser’s beam hit the metal once again and began to melt through. Gobbets of molten alloy spat from the growing gap, a growing black line along the edge of the floor.

*Uh oh, meats, your friends seem to have figured out where you are.* Vrick showed them a display of their assailants’ progress. *Time to go.*

“Just a little more. We’re almost there,” Ember said, coughing from the fumes.

Lexa-Blue twisted her upper body and peered back down the hallway, searching for some sign of pursuit. A bead of sweat, both from the exertion of holding Ember’s legs and concern of their assailants, drooled lazily from her temple to her jaw. “Come on. Come on.”

“One more minute,” he insisted, both hands gripping the fuser. “Almost there.”

Suddenly the fuser whined, sparks coming from the fissure. Ember cursed. “I think I’ve hit a strut. We’ll have to hope for the best. Help me.”

He squirmed out of her grip and turned, extending his feet into the elevator car and kicking down on the weakened floor. Getting the idea fast, Lexa-Blue moved to his side and did the same. The thudding impacts of their boots rang in the hallway, as the floor bent down and away from its moorings. Finally, as they began to hear heavy footfalls at the far reach of their hearing, the floor gave way and tumbled down the shaft, hard metallic impacts ringing unevenly as it fell. They scrambled up and the door slid smoothly closed. They darted in through the propped open elevator door to their right and Ember slapped his hands on the controls, punching a precise combination of keys. He waited.

“Time to go, squib,” Lexa-Blue prompted.

Ember shook his head sharply, swiping away sweat with his sleeve. “We have to make sure they take the bait.”

“Just keep your finger on that button, then, and keep your eyes peeled.”

Agonizing seconds passed, the running steps coming closer. Finally, Zadi and Dagger burst around the corner. Ember waited just long enough to lock gazes with the woman. He saw the murderous rage fill her eyes, saw her swing up her gun, then pulled his hand from the control panel. The elevator doors slid closed, just as Zadi’s finger tightened on the trigger.

*

Screaming with inarticulate fury, Zadi fired at the elevator door, tearing molten wounds in the smooth metal. Registering the other elevator through her red haze of her grief and rage, she pushed the call button. The doors opened instantly and she felt gleaming satisfaction. The elevator must have been right there! She leaped forward into the car, turning to hit the button and fell into open space.

With an awkward cry, she tried to turn and grab on to something. She caught the lift’s cables and scrambled for purchase as the woven metal of the cable tore the flesh of her palms. She felt herself slide.

“Grab my hand!” Dagger shouted, flattening himself on the floor. Hanging himself as far over the edge as he could balance, he stretched his arm to her. Swaying precariously, she groped for his hand, found it, then lost her grip. “Swing up to me!”

Dangling, she tentatively shifted her weight, then began to swing toward his outstretched hand. On her third pass, she made contact, but again felt her hand, slick with blood, begin to slip.

Grunting with the effort, Dagger heaved. “Come on, that’s it.”

“I don’t think so,” said a voice above him.

He turned toward it and had just enough time to recognize Lexa-Blue before her boot connected with his jaw. Stunned by the kick, he lost his grip on Zadi and heard her cry out. A brutish grin formed on his face. “Hang on, Zee. I’ll be right back.”

Lexa-Blue fell back in to a fighting crouch, ready for his lunge. In one hand, she held the fuser, and in the other, the jumped-up scalpel, its light casting her face in angular shadows.

He didn’t make her wait. He came for her in a rush which she met with two sharp blows, one to the head, the other to his side. The fuser’s tip sparked off the armoured plates of his padding, but the scalpel sliced through, leaving a reek of burning flesh. He stepped back, rubbing his side. “Ooh, a feisty one. I like ‘em with a bit of spunk.”

Faster than she could react, he leaped at her, his chop hitting the arm she raised to block it. Numbness ran along her forearm, into her fingers, and she dropped the fuser. She swivelled from his path, spinning to kick at his legs. She swung as she kicked, and the scalpel struck home again, leaving livid burns across his face. He took her kick on the backs of his knees, going down, but he was rolling and coming up almost instantly.

“Sorry, hon. I don’t have time to play, right now.” With a swish of air, there were throwing knives in each of his hands, glinting in the light. Suddenly a strangled cry came from the elevator shaft, loud, then gradually fading as Zadi lost her grip. “Okay,” Dagger said coldly. “Now I’m just pissed.”

With a hiss, one of the blades whizzed past her head and was followed by another, which sparked as she deflected it with her steelskin-covered forearm. As he arched his arm to throw another, Ember stepped up behind him.

Jamming the Cuff against his spine, Ember fired a stun charge. The energy poured directly into Dagger’s nervous system, searing along every nerve. Dagger dropped, quivering to the floor and wet himself.

Ember looked down at him, disgusted. “That makes two of us.”

*

With a rapturous smile, Phasia turned to the others. “The link is complete. We can start the transfer anytime.”

Shackle looked grimly pleased. “Good. Do it.”

Phasia closed her eyes again, diving back into the sea of voices that was the Core. She felt her physical body melt away, replaced by the discrete packet of information that was her essence, the proxy she used in web-space. Again, the corded interlink “muscles” extended out from her proxy’s skin, melding her body with the very essence of the web.

Sensing the incipient link waiting for her like a trembling sphere of kinetic energy, she touched it. It unfolded for her eagerly, a funnel waiting to be filled. Floating free among the masses of data, she waved her “hand,” and the file structures of the Gate’s schematics and specifications pulled away from its home, becoming a tendril of light snaking toward the open mouth of the link. Quivering and tentative, the data hovered, waiting for her prodding. With a whisper of thought, she pushed it toward the waiting cavity of the link, which engulfed it with a gentle tremor.

As the link and datastream merged, Phasia became aware of something at the edge of her consciousness. Something that seemed a million years distant in relevance here in this realm of pure uncorrupted data. It took a nano-second for her to recognize the sensation, another to realize its importance, and a third to release her connection on this magical world and return to the realm of her body.

As her proxy merged with her body, she realized what it was. Some obscenely high-pitched wail assaulted her ears, the ears of her whole team. The ululating stab of sonic energy poured from the very walls around them. Shackle had her hands clamped over her ears, agony beyond description on her face. Gizmo was fetal on the floor, only barely conscious.

The sound cut out suddenly, but before her head stopped ringing, she heard the fizz of blaster shot and a grunt from Shackle. Phasia saw her compatriot fly against the wall, a wicked blaster wound through her shoulder.

Phasia scrabbled for her weapon, but was stopped by a voice and a gun barrel aimed right between her eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

*

Jaq Syoko kept an unyielding bead on the woman in black. She indicated the wounded one on the floor. “Someone make sure this one’s disarmed.”

Seije carefully picked up the rifle from the floor where it had fallen when Syoko had shot Shackle in the arm. With no prompting, he cocked it and aimed it at the prostrate woman on the floor.

Syoko eyed him cautiously. “You know how to use that?”

Seije answered without taking his eyes off Shackle. “I should. I designed it.”

Syoko rolled her eyes. “Initra, check Pantheon’s status.”

Initra darted to the control panel, running her hands over the diagnostic controls. She turned to Phasia. “If you’ve damaged my core matrix…”

Phasia’s eyes widened in awe. “You designed that?!”

Initra nodded, somewhat taken aback.

“It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I commend you. There should be no damage to the actual matrix. It’s reversible. We didn’t plan to leave much behind for anyone to fix.”

Initra appeared about to say something, but she was interrupted by Gizmo’s sudden leap from the floor. Ignoring them, he bolted for the door, but Initra, to everyone’s surprise, including her own, launched herself after him.

Her flying tackle caught him just short of the door, sending them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs. He struggled, but the combined indignities performed on her and her greatest work, sent her into a rage. The small mercenary was no match for her. “Oh…no….you…don’t.” Grabbing a hank of his hair, she slammed his head against the floor, once, then twice. Blood streamed from a scalp wound, and Initra straddled him firmly, but still he struggled.

Completely taken aback by the sudden ferocity of the elegant designer’s attack, Syoko and Seije exchanged a glance, eyes wide. In that second of inattention, Shackle kicked out abruptly, connecting with Seije’s shin. Howling, he lost his grip on his gun.

Shackle attempted to scuttle into an attack position, favouring her injured arm. Syoko was too fast for her, though, spinning and lunging at her. One sharp punch to Shackle’s injured shoulder produced a bellow of agony, then a blow with the gun butt knocked her out.

The distraction was enough for Phasia. With a flick of her arms, two throwing stars dropped from their holsters in her flowing sleeves. Barely a second later, one was embedded in Syoko’s shoulder, the other in the wall after slicing her forehead. Leaping over the prostrate forms of Syoko and Seije, she dodged past to where Initra squatted on Gizmo’s back. Knocking her aside with a kick, Phasia scooped up the dazed Gizmo and was through the door. On the other side, she slammed her hand down on the door controls, closing the others inside. A flick of her hand released her finger links, which she jammed into the panel, scrambling the lock. Temporary, she thought, but just enough to give us a head start. Hauling Gizmo up, she started to run.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Vek was not pleased.

He sat brooding in his private quarters aboard the Stiletto, immersed in a sea of virtual reality. Signal feeds from the scleral interfaces of his team funnelled through the ship’s mainframe and were translated into holo images.

What had begun as a kaleidoscope of images, multi-lensed like an insect’s eye, was now marred by flaws. Null grey was the only signal from Gizmo: black voids marked where the input from Zed and Zadi had been. Smears of red agony showed as the only input from Darke and Shackle.

As he watched, the signal from Darke deepened from a burning crimson, down through a wine colour to a dull brick red and eventually to darkness as well. With a sigh that was mingled disgust and frustration, he stood, keying the VR to pause. The mists of the image swirled and broke apart as he stepped through them, then settled into place again behind him. No change in his purposeful stride, he crossed the room to an ornately carved bar. He poured brandy from a cut glass decanter into a large snifter and took a long, almost desperate swallow, the only hint of his true feelings.

In a matter of hours, a motley assortment of amateurs had decimated his carefully picked and trained team. It seemed inconceivable, yet the breaches in his display bore eloquent witness to the truth. What had seemed a virtual certainty, a quick information theft and destruction of evidence had quickly turned into a rout. He took another drink, then put the snifter down. His face was back to an emotionless mask.

All was not lost yet. His mind turned, examining possibilities with an exacting precision borne of years of experience. He ran swift calculations on the probabilities and had devised a new plan within moments. He turned sharply back to his display and walked into its heart, the holo-field enfolding him again. With a thought, he called up Shackle’s medical readings. The glowing indicators superimposed themselves over her section of the multi-image, displaying her vital signs and the extent of her injuries. What he saw there made him shake his head ever so slightly. The wound to her shoulder would need extensive treatment, then physical therapy before she could work again. All of which would take time during which she could be interrogated and possibly reveal information. Vek moved her from his list of assets to his list of liabilities. With a thought, he triggered the termination command, and Shackle’s display flashed livid crimson, then went dark.

Vek moved on to similar readings for Dagger. His stats showed he would recover, despite imminent embarrassment. He had been bound, but the possibility existed that he might free himself. Vek considered a moment, then set the termination command on standby and proceeded with the next phase of his plan. He opened a commo channel to the surviving members of his squad. *Abort current actions. Fall back and regroup at Life-pod Bay Alpha two. Take station and hold for further instructions.*

He waited as assent registered from Looker, Phasia, and a stunned Gizmo. Dagger was still unconscious. A reasonable quorum, Vek thought. He opened a channel to the Stiletto’s cockpit. “Helm, weapons detail and backup. Report to the others and assist them in taking the Life-pod Bay.”

“Aye, sir,” came Helm’s reply. “On my way.”

Vek allowed himself a slight smile. All was definitely not lost. All we need now is for the charming deputy to follow procedure and the day may well be ours. *Program: Sleeper Zero One to standby.*

A swirl of light grew at the edge of the holo, a nascent image awaiting activation.

*

Tolan led the way into the Life-pod Bay, a cavernous room along the outer edge of the outer ring, just underneath the Orbit Tram. Pressure-sealed hatches lined the outer wall, triangles with the points cut off. Warnings and instructions were clearly posted by each door.

Tolan hurried to the master panel, placing his hand over the palm reader. Acknowledging his identity with a chirp, the panel slide aside. “Access code, Tolan 55913. Activate.”

With a grumble and a hiss of equalizing air pressure, every hatch in the bay opened, sliding up in unison to reveal the cramped but lifesaving interiors of the pods.

“All right, wounded in first,” Tolan shouted to the crowd. “Get them secure.”

Behind him, Malika helped a man with a splinted arm through an open hatch to someone inside. Once he was settled, she turned to the next. Thirty or forty frightened people milled around in the bay, and an acrid smell of fear sweat was in the air. She sensed the undercurrents that shifted and welled in the tense mood of the group. The looks on their faces bored into her. She had seen those kinds of faces before, people pushed beyond the limits of their abilities to cope. The potential for panic was thick in the air, and she felt her own nerves fraying. All that seemed to hold the mob at bay was the calm voice of Pheris Tolan, moving from pod to pod, issuing instructions and suggestions.

In that moment, she found herself admiring him, respecting the calm authority he exhibited in this crisis. Despite having lived on the edge for so long, she knew those situations were wildly different, that she had then not cared for her own safety. All she had sought in those circumstances was the thrill and the choices had been hers. This was different. She was fighting battles that weren’t hers, taking risks that had not been calculated. Yet following this puppy with the badge seemed the only way to get out of the situation. The Security Chief had promised her a place on one of these pods if she helped, and she intended to take advantage of the offer.

Yet Tolan’s composure and quiet control of the situation had calmed even her, had kept her focussed on her task. And she had to admit it made her resent him a bit.

Once the first pod was full, there was a metallic reverberation as the hatch closed, sealed, and activated the launch countdown. Barely ten seconds later, the deck shook as the pod blasted away into space. As they filled the other pods, a staggered rotation of similar rumblings began, marking the continuing evacuation.

Eventually, only Tolan and Malika stood in the bay, with about half of the pods gone. Tolan looked at her and smiled. “Well, it looks like you earned your ticket out of here. Thanks for your help.”

Malika was about to make a smart remark, then thought better of it, and opened her mouth to speak. But the whine of a blaster bolt over her head interrupted her. Tolan tackled her, the momentum of his leap carrying them both behind a pressure suit locker. More blaster bolts whizzed through the air, crackling with the sound and smell of ionized air.

Untangling himself from her, he popped far enough out to fire a series of quick shots in the direction of the bay doors and reconnoitre their attackers. Three, not too heavily armed. Good, he thought. Maybe we have a chance.

His heart sank suddenly as he saw a fourth arrive, laden with armaments, which he began handing out. Malika saw it too and urgently pulled at his sleeve. She pointed to the nearest pod hatch, open and waiting for them. “Come on, Pheris. Time to bug out!”

Tolan shook his head violently. “We can’t.”

“Why not!” A mix of desperation and exasperation shone on Malika’s face.

“The Emergency Measures Program is running,” he said, trying not to sound impatient. He popped up and fired a succession of quick shots. “If they get access to that terminal, they can run a destruct sequence or destroy the pods with the external beamers. I can’t let that happen.”

Malika looked at him, then at the pod hatch, torn. As a bolt sizzled against the metal of the locker, she made her decision.

*

Aboard the Stiletto, Vek watched the battle in his tactical holo, seeing Helm’s arrival with the extra ordinance. The dispersal of the weaponry was seamless, and his people took careful aim.

*Hold.*

Looker, Phasia, Gizmo and Helm held their fire, without a questioning thought.

*Sleeper Zero One: Execute.*

A glow of green warmed into existence and Vek smiled.

*

Malika cried out as a searing knife of pain shafted through her mind. Tolan spun to her, then back, then back again to her, uncertain where to focus his energy. “What is it?!” He held out a hand and laid it on her arm.

Her mouth moved, but no words came. Memories poured out from some hidden corner of her mind. The chair, the restraints of brutish metal, suddenly all of the lost hours from that night at Palimpsest came back in a boiling rush.

The conditioning. The mind probes and hypno that had retraced and rewired a part of her soul. As soon as the realization dawned, she was instantly aware that her will was gone. The volition of her body belonged to someone else.

*Deal with him. Whatever it takes.*

The voice in her head was guttural, harsh and completely irresistible. She looked at Tolan, seeing that he was concentrating on their attackers. She struck mercilessly and instantly, a rapid blow to his head and one to his gun arm. The sidearm spun away across the floor. She didn’t stop, pummelling at him, punching, kicking, feeling nauseous helplessness tear her inside. Again and again she struck, until he was barely conscious.

*Stop.*

Her limbs went lax, obeying the instruction. She stood, motionless, looking down at Tolan. His head rose slightly, wavering with the absolute effort the movement called for. She looked into his eyes and saw only fierce betrayal burning in them. No, she wanted to scream, even her vocal cords frozen, you don’t understand. It wasn’t me!

She watched as the invaders walked toward them, slowly beginning to feel her body again. Helm and Gizmo hauled Tolan to his feet, Looker keeping him covered. Phasia moved close to Malika and circled her, a cold pride on her face.

“That’s a good little puppet,” she purred. She turned to the others. “Not a bad conditioning job, huh? Not a long window of effectiveness, but complete control while it lasts. I didn’t know what the boss had in mind for her, but he certainly plans ahead. Good thing we stuck a tracer on her and figured out she was here.”

Finally able to move, Malika drew back her hand to slap Phasia, but the other woman blocked the blow with ease. Looker swung his gun to cover her.

Numb and bleeding, Tolan realized what had really happened. He caught Malika’s eye, smiled ever so slightly and flicked his gaze at the open pod.

She understood, her eyes widening. She moved her head ever so slightly from side to side, but his returning gaze was insistent. The damn do-gooding fool is going to do it anyway, whether I help or not, she thought, bitterly, bracing herself.

While Looker had his gun trained on Malika, Tolan slammed a foot down hard on Gizmo’s arch and drove an elbow into Helm’s stomach. They released him, but Looker was too fast. He turned and fired, the blast tearing through Tolan’s midsection.

Malika saw Tolan die and didn’t even think. A primitive, selfish, survival instinct sent her diving into the pod. Hitting the floor, she twisted to see the inside control panel. Beside it was the open hatch, framing Phasia raising her gun. Malika kicked wildly, hitting the latch control.

The hatch slammed shut, and with a roar, the pod ejected. Through the tiny window set in the hatch, she saw the Gate falling away behind her. As the attitude jets fired, she lay there, her chest heaving, alone with her shame and the memory of blue eyes, filled with forgiveness.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lexa-Blue pulled the scattergun and its holster from the unconscious man and slung the heavy assault weapon over her shoulder. Then, she and Ember stripped Dagger of his knives which took some time as he had almost twenty secreted on his body in various places, tossing them down the elevator shaft, all the while trying to ignore the acrid urine stench that was beginning to make Ember’s nose wrinkle. “I had a cat once and on her worst day, she didn’t smell this bad.”

Lexa-Blue chuckled. “Don’t get prissy on me, squib. We’re not done yet. I don’t want this one getting away and rejoining his friends. Find something to tie him up.”

Ember ducked into a suite nearby and returned with a length of wire, some heavy tape, and some deep purple silk cords, the last of which he offered her first. “Well, well…the things you find under some people’s beds!”

Lexa-Blue took the cords and deftly hog-tied their prisoner, using the wire at his ankles and taping his mouth. Then, with Ember’s help, she dragged him to a utility cupboard and stuffed him in, sealing the door with a heavy cabinet.

“There,” she said, dusting off her hands. “That should hold him for a while.”

“You think?” Ember asked, sarcastically.

“Hey, considering how dangerous these guys are, I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

“Good point.”

“Come on. Let’s see if we can find the others.”

*

Seije expertly examined, then bandaged the wound on Syoko’s arm. “It doesn’t look like it did any major damage.” He daubed at the line of drying blood across her forehead. “This one will need some stitches when we get out of this mess, but it seems to have stopped bleeding.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Syoko said.

“I work with Ember and Malika,” he said, dryly. “Learning first-aid seemed like a good idea.”

She chuckled, but the effort made her wince. “I see what you mean. If I had to work with her, I’d need first aid just to fix her after I beat her within an inch of her life.”

“Don’t judge her too harshly,” Seije said, tossing aside the bloodied strip of cloth he had been using. “I think things were hard where she came from. And her loyalty to Ember is unquestionable. I think that somewhere beneath all of her attitude, there’s actually a pretty decent young girl.”

“Deep beneath. Subterranean even,” Syoko said. Gingerly, she moved her face. “Thanks, doc.”

She stood, crossing to Initra. “What’s the verdict? Can you re-establish the link with the Core?”

Initra frowned. “I think so. There are some redundant backup linkages that seem to be unaffected by the codeworm that caused the disruption in the first place. I’ve started the data transfer, but I’m going to have to watch it carefully.”

Syoko nodded. “Keep me posted. We need the Core back online ASAP.”

Seije finished putting his makeshift medical supplies away. “Anything I can do?”

Initra looked grateful. “Yes, thank you. Can you rewire a digital coupling bar?”

Seije nodded. “In my sleep. Just point the way.”

Syoko gestured in the direction of Shackle’s corpse. “I’ll try to find something to cover up our friend here.”

*

*Hold on, boys!*

Vrick’s voice brought Keene and Ophir up short. They stopped on the Station’s mall level near a fountain. Damaged in the initial attack, water dribbled in a steady stream from a crack in the stone.

“What’s up, Vrick?” Keene said.

*Our friends have broken off their pursuit and are congregating at the Life-pod Bay where Tolan and Malika are. They’re still off-loading people. This could be bad.*

“Okay, get Lexa-Blue, Ember, and whoever else is free. Get them to meet us…” Keene accessed his station schematic and chose a point. It glowed as the information transferred to Vrick.

*Got it.*

They set off for the rendezvous at a run. They were there in a few minutes and Lexa-Blue and Ember were there quickly after.

“Hey, partner,” Lexa-Blue said, reaching out and placing a hand on the side of his head. “You weren’t going to start this party without me, were you?”

Keene laughed. “Not a chance, Blue. You’d kick my ass. Come on.”

The Life-pod Bay was one level down and about five hundred metres along the station’s curve. They approached with caution, splitting and taking positions on either side of the door.

*What’s going on in there, Vrick?* Lexa-Blue thought.

*They’ve got the drop on Tolan and Malika and you’d better get in there fast. They’re looking squirrelly and they could lose it any second. Shit!*

They heard the sounds of a scuffle, broken off by the discordant blare of a blaster bolt. Barely a second later. They felt the deck rumble beneath their feet as a pod ejected.

*What is it, Vrick?!* Ophir shouted in his head. *What happened?!*

Vrick’s reply was subdued. *Tolan’s dead.*

Ophir cursed, then fought back tears. Keene closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. Lexa-Blue looked grim. Ember showed no emotion.

*They’re making a move on the Emergency Measures access! We have to stop them, pronto.*

*I’m on it.* Lexa-Blue said, standing suddenly. She stuck her hand in the bag of armaments she had liberated from the mercs, pulling out two fog bombs. With a twist of her wrist, she triggered them and lobbed them into the pod bay. A curling trail of smoke followed the arc of her throw, then exploded into swirling, choking mist with a burst of light.

At the door, Lexa-Blue took three short breaths, then a deep one, saturating her lungs with oxygen, then raised her scattergun and strode into the room.

The roiling eddies of fog closed around her, and she switched her eye implant to extensive EM scan. Four human shapes flared to life, glowing hot-white in her infrared display. Pumping and priming the scattergun, she fired at the first, about two metres ahead and just to her right. She saw the humanoid shape jerk, then topple, stained by a livid splash of heat where the bolt struck. She saw the readings from the others waver, then flare too as three more expert shots that lit up the clouds of mist with a diffuse orange glow. Cries of pain and three thuds sounded in the fog.

*Vrick, status?*

*You got ‘em. Two dead, two too injured to be any more trouble. Hang on.*

Fans whirred and the gaseous air began to clear, revealing a jumble of bodies on the floor.

“Come on in, boys,” Lexa-Blue called. “Time to clean this up once and for all.”

*

With his heads-up display now almost completely smeared with red and black, Vek knew when to admit defeat. The feeling left a bitter tang in his mouth, but the abrupt switch in the power dynamic left him alone in enemy territory.

“Evacuation code: CRASH AND BURN,” he said, the words acid in his mouth. “Execute.”

The Stiletto’s engines fired, roaring up from standby to full power. Vek took a seat in his flight chair, feeling the ship’s crash field close around him. “Termination command: inclusive.”

There, he thought, that would take care of the loose ends. No one behind to answer questions. With a thought, he checked the link back to his employer. Still active, he sensed. For a moment, he was concerned. He thought a command to kill the link, felt it sluggish to his will. He frowned, wrestling with the tightline connection, a bead of sweat at his temple marking the mental exertion. Abruptly, the link gave way, and Vek sighed at the cessation of effort. The sudden void in his head told him that the trace to his employers was broken.

And not a moment too soon, he thought, hearing the pitch of the engines indicate readiness to take off. Adjusting himself in the seat, he felt the pressing of acceleration as the ship left the Gate’s docking bay.

*

“Does he suspect?” Syoko asked.

Initra, eyes focussed on the panel before her, shook her head. “No, we managed to mask the linkage transfer from him. Any bleed on the tightline transmitter?”

At the console to her right, Seije shook his head. “No, we’re clear. The linkage was shifted into Pantheon’s main junction. We still have an active connection.”

Syoko smirked. “Good, figure out where it’s going and document it. I want some proof for the court. Too bad that son of a bitch got away.”

“Maybe not, Chief,” Vrick said. “If I could get your assistance for a moment, Sei San Cristobal.”

*

*Meat, I need you.*

*One sec,* Lexa-Blue ‘pushed in response to the ship’s summons. “Hold up a sec, boys. Vrick needs me. Stand guard a minute, would you?”

*Hit me with it.*

*I’m going to jack you into the Gate’s navigation system. You’re the only one who has the piloting and nav experience necessary to even come close to coping with it.*

Vrick’s plan flooded into her brain in a rush, and she blinked hard at the onrush of information before it settled in and she saw what ey needed from her. She dropped into a crouch against the wall to steady herself. *Ready. Jack me in.*

The input of Vrick’s plan seemed suddenly like the merest of trickles in the face of the torrent of data that poured into her as Vrick connected her to the navigational and site targeting system of the Gate. She slumped down against the wall, balling her fists and pushing them against her eyes as if to block out a burning flare of light. She gulped air as the enormity of the system became apparent, then forced herself to breathe evenly.

All right, she told herself. Keep it together. Focus. You’re the one who aced your last pilot and nav recertification with top marks. How different can it be? She focussed her attention and recognized the basic normal space coordinate system, then followed this up through the interspace navigation coordinates as well. Where this would usually have been the end, though, a new, seemingly limitless progression of axes extended into a vast range of dimensions whose mere existence her brain rebelled against.

She calmed herself, picturing the goal, what Vrick needed her to do. To her shock, the complex system of coordinates began to make some inkling of sense. She concentrated on the realms she understood, testing the system with basic, space-time coordinates. With a thought, she was immersed in a simulation of stars, one that felt more real, more textured than any holo she had ever experienced. She concentrated, able to identify her own location.

A thought showed her the relationship between her location and familiar locations. She saw the worlds of her recent past: Icepick and Weald. She saw the Red Dragon nebula. Farther back along the time axis, its position shifting even more, was Orb, home of her friends Daevin and Elai. From there, it seemed easy then to extrapolate, as the system showed her the Nexus points near those planets and fed her a steady stream of coordinates, each with a new, fascinating level of detail. A rush went through her. She knew most of this thrilling knowledge would fade without the mental bolstering that she knew Vrick was providing, but as long as she was here, she planned to make the most of it.

With a burst of vigour, she turned her attention to her place in the plan. Now, what shall I choose, she thought? Testing the feel of the coordinate matrix, she swung through it, getting a feel for how the different axes changed when she manipulated the nav targeting algorithms. When she felt she had enough to go on, the process taking only moments of real time, she took a metaphorical deep breath and decided. All in, she thought, choosing one particular axis and swinging it wildly away from the setting of her current location. Her view shifted in a wild vector change of viewpoint. There. That ought to do it.

*

*Wake up, Dupe. Parent needs the car back.*

*I’ve told you before…*

Vrick cut off the petulant retort with a tone like the crack of a whip. Ey even added the actual sound. *Enough! No time.*

With a thought, ey condensed the dupe subroutine and stored it away again, regaining control of es systems.

Ey ran a check of all diagnostics to get an idea of how much the self-repair systems had managed to accomplish while es mind had been busy elsewhere. The results, while not as positive as ey had hoped, seemed like they would be adequate.

The breaches had healed over, though the repairs were inelegant and would require testing and micro-sealant before ey would consider those compartments space-worthy again. Thrusters were at sixty-three percent, the drive field at barely forty. It would have to do. Deflection systems were just over ninety, which was a plus, though all defensive weaponry on the port side was out due to damage to a main conduit in the hull. Ey had enough on es starboard side for a few short, intense bursts, but ey could already tell there was a good chance the system would burn out by the time ey was done.

All of which should suffice, ey thought. I don’t have to shoot them down, just nudge them in the right direction. Suspending the auto-repair sequence, ey booted the systems back up, keeping them at minimal power in the hopes the other ship would not register the change in status until it was too late.

Ey found the ship, black and sharp against the stars, accelerating toward the system’s perimeter. Vrick whistled, impressed by the readings ey was getting from the other ship. This one’s a tough little customer, ey thought, then smiled to emself. But then so am I.

Augmenting es own damaged sensor grid with data available from what was left of the Gate’s sensor systems, ey was able to get a decent picture of their attackers’ vessel and where it was. Ey’s dormant hull had drifted with the rest of the wreckage into a close pass of the stealth cloaked ship. Pure, dumb luck, Vrick thought, but I am not one to say no when the Universe grants me a boon.

Ey programmed a set of thruster bursts, carefully designed to be erratic and seem like misfires to anyone observing from the dark ship. When ey was satisfied with the simulations, ey locked the pattern down, ready for activation. Next up was a controlled push with the deflection system to push part of the debris cloud at the other ship as well, intending it as a distraction. Finally, ey plotted a complex set of instructions for the drive field, forward weapons array and navigation system, taking into account the limited power and operating status of all systems. Just to be safe, ey plotted several variations, attempting to take into account as many of the various possible responses that es foe could make. In the end, there were some possibilities that ey couldn’t account for, and ey had to accept that, like the gaps in es systems, the circumstances were out of es control.

Ey waited, gauging moments, angle and probabilities and then, acted.

Thrusters across es hull fired, sending sporadic, uneven blooms of energy into the dark. Ey began to tumble in a slow arc forward through the debris cloud, feeling multiple collisions with fragments from the Gate’s explosion. Ey felt twinges of sadness at the new damage that marked him, cosmetic though it may be, feeling each impact resonate through em. All the while, ey kept a close watch on all readings and probability sims, watching for the moment to come.

It did, and ey signalled all of es damaged systems to come alive. A surge of power flowed to the deflection grid, sending a shower of debris in the direction of the other ship. As the other ship engaged its own thrusters to manoeuvre out of the way of the storm of metal and ceramic was about to hit it, it veered directly onto the path Vrick had theorized it would.

Vrick sent all available drive power into the field, sending emself bursting forth in an intercept course with the other ship’s new trajectory. Ey then poured remaining weapons power into es forward pinbeams, raking fine lines of orange fire across the Stiletto’s bow. The black ship twisted even farther from its original course, veering again to avoid the raking beams that could easily have punctured its hull. The fiery pinbeam energy sparked off the defensive screens, flaring in the darkness.

With a thought, ey activated the microtorpedo launchers, but received nothing in return except a shower of static as something in the port launch mechanism burned out. Calling upon all of the languages at es command, ey thought a stream of curses in each one simultaneously. Never mind, ey thought. I’m not out of this fight yet.

Ey ran through a complex set of manoeuvres, testing es healing drive field to its limits, but managing to forestall another failure.

Freed from maximum speed restrictions, Vrick bore down on the Stiletto at almost twice the speed of the other ship. Es scans registered the instant when the pilot of the other ship realized he was being pursued and began evasive manoeuvres. Slowing from pursuit velocity, Vrick matched speeds with the ship, staying tight on its tail.

It was a struggle at times. The pilot program—for Vrick had recognized the piloting style as artificial right off the bat—was good, executing shifts in course that must have left the occupant space sick. A flurry of pin-lasers raked across the Heart’s shields, overloading one of them and burning in to the outer hull of the starboard cargo pod. The impact registered to Vrick as stinging burns and ey quickly shut down all internal life support, diverting the power to the overloaded shield. Painstakingly slow to Vrick, the shield knitted together in to a passable, though still weak bond.

Okay, Vrick thought, now it’s my turn.

Ey lifted, flying above the other ship and, with a burst of speed, overtook it. Releasing a field of quantum charges in its path, ey looped around and came at it with a spray of pin-laser fire. The black ship staggered but ducked out of range, resuming its mad dash away from the Gate.

Vrick felt es systems drain dangerously as ey chased down the other ship, pounding at it, gradually herding it back in the direction of the Gate. Still ey pushed, taking no quarter, as the ring of the Gate grew, a lateral ring below them.

*I hope you’re ready over there,* ey ‘pushed to Lexa-Blue. *Because I’m running out of moves.*

*Ready,* ey heard Lexa-Blue say. *Reel him in.*

As the Stiletto came near the ring, Vrick saw the dark ship begin to turn away. With a spray of tiny grav mines, ey blocked the escape route and the ship sailed over the Gate only to suddenly lose speed in a wash of radiant energy from the Gate. Its forward motion arrested, the Stiletto began to tumble, yet remain in close proximity to the Gate.

Vrick heard Pantheon’s chorus of voices spill from the commo circuit. *Tractors engaged and stable. Gate activated.*

*Got him!* Lexa-Blue’s voice rang with triumph.

Vrick watched as the membrane of opalescent energy, rippling in thousands of colours, stretched across the aperture of the Gate. Even across the gulf of space, ey felt the power that was marshalled there.

*Gate energies at maximum,* Pantheon stated. *Transition in thirty seconds. Twenty-nine….*

Vrick listened as Pantheon counted down, watching the ship draw ever closer to the window in space, a fly drawn to a massive spider’s web.

*Three…Two…One.*

The Stiletto touched the swirling colours and was gone.

*

In the dim emergency lighting of his quarters, Vek rubbed at a nasty welt on his head, struggling to regain alertness. His vision swam as he slapped at the releases for his harness. The flow of information from the ship through his node was garbled, but he knew the ship was not moving. He staggered over to the console. He palmed for status readouts, smiling when he saw that the ship was still space worthy despite the pounding she had taken. All he had to do was get to a port, and he would be right as rain. He stabbed at the nav readouts to see where he was, feeling a surge of hope.

The readout flashed, “Null reference.”

Vek frowned, punching a recalibration command. The same message flared again. With a tingle of dread, he called up a holo of surrounding space.

And he saw the entire spiral immensity of a galaxy turning lazily in the distance. A galaxy surrounded by a blackness so absolute it defied description. His mind registered it as the black of empty intergalactic space. Other than the distant galactic mass, there was nothing. No stars, no planets, no background debris.

Just black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Having watched in a holo field Vrick’s dizzying pursuit of the dark warship, Syoko blinked at the sudden glare of the Gate’s opening. She turned to where Initra and Seije were closing the panels leading to their new connection to the core. “I thought the Gate was too damaged to function?”

Initra nodded. “It is now. We were able to jury-rig one, targeted burst. No fine coordination or lifeline back, but enough raw power to do the job.” Her voice took on a mournful tone. “But we blew the functioning generators to do it.”

“So where exactly did you send him, anyway?” Syoko said.

“Vrick?” Seije said, not looking up from his work.

The now static holo misted into a star chart of the Gate’s position along one of the galaxy’s inner arms. The image’s point of view pulled back, tracking over the spiral of stars, past the dense brightness of the galaxy’s core. It passed over the inner and outer arms on the opposite side, not stopping as it passed into the void beyond. Stopping its movement, the view suddenly widened, taking in the Milky Way and a sister galaxy, divided by a massive void. Syoko’s eyes widened as a tiny pulse of light marked a spot deep in the void.

“About halfway between here and the Greater Magellanic Cloud,” Vrick said. “He should be back in about sixty thousand years.”

Syoko whistled low. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Lexa-Blue’s idea, actually,” Vrick said. “I told her to be creative.”

Syoko chuckled. “I’m impressed,” she said, taking in a deep breath and exhaling to clear her head. She saw Seije fussing with the controls of the mercenaries’ tightline deck. “What are you up to over there?”

Seije pulled a portable jacker from his pouch of tools and set about wiring it into the panel. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to know who’s behind all of this. We held the link open so we could do this, so let’s get on with it.”

He thumbed the jacker on and pulled over a chair, straight backed and minimally padded, eyeing it critically for a second. Then he shrugged and sat. “Can’t be too picky, I guess.”

Once settled, he closed his eyes, and in the space of a heartbeat, Syoko saw the muscles of his face go lax, then his eyes begin to twitch under their lids and he was deep in web-trance.

*

The open end of the tightline yawned like the mouth of a swirling funnel, glowing and twisting down into infinity. Seije’s proxy floated just beyond its threshold, like the concentrated smoke from a fire under the stars. Like Seije, the proxy was unadorned, a smooth, unclothed human shape in burnished bronze, all surface detail erased except for a flowing head of hair. From his vantage point above the tightline, he saw the spirals of colour rippling along the spectrum, running past the visible. So that’s what ultraviolet looks like, he said to himself. With the speed of an errant thought, he crossed the threshold and was instantly somewhere else. The transition had been imperceptible even to his enhanced web senses. Well, he thought, that was interesting.

He floated a moment, getting his bearings. Registering the ranks of information in neat, massive rows around him, he realized he was in a data storage cell surrounded by translucent data packets of all shapes and sizes packed in perfect, orderly precision. He moved his proxy closer and touched one. Registry information sprang, crisp and minty, across his senses. He recognized the code string of Quintaine DiaStellar and cursed. Was there nothing those two wouldn’t stoop to? He performed a quick reconnaissance sweep, checking the registry of other packets in the cell. Nothing that would help him, just various plundered programs and information. He moved from the cell, rising as if on the breeze through its walls.

The world that came into view was one of massive cubes ranked side by side and thousands deep into the distance in all directions. At the spaces between the corners, junction spheres floated, connecting the enormous databanks. Seije felt the sheer, combined power of the datastreams coursing from cube to cube, and a green surge of envy shimmered across the surface of his proxy at the vast resources the Quintaines had at their disposal. He quashed it sharply as he remembered the heinous methods they had used to accumulate their wealth. Each of those data cells might just as well have been a maggot-ridden corpse.

The “air” of the datacore felt, smelled, and even tasted sterile and empty. There were no personal touches, no hint of the programmers’ personalities here, only a stale coldness. The jasmine and spice of Seije’s own datasphere was completely absent. Finding no signs of recognition or pursuit, he set to work.

He plunged into one of the junction spheres, methodically searching until he found what he needed, peeling open one of the directories. In a nanosecond, he had a map of the datacore, the varying levels of security showing as multiple hues of purple, the majority of the information pertaining to the Quintaines’s business dealings shaded a livid indigo. While he searched he scented the familiar whiff of the codeworm he and Ember had used to infiltrate the Quintaines’s finances. He initiated a transfer and felt them whizzing from their storage cell through the maze of cubes and spheres until they fell on him like broken rain. Gathering them, he knit them together, using a maintenance drone subroutine as a framework. Setting it to hone on Ember’s “business” account, he released it.

It sped into the distance, and he watched it as it struck home and tore through the barriers surrounding the Quintaines’s assets. With a graphic slash, credit haemorrhaged from their accounts.

Seije knew he didn’t have much time. Eventually the datasphere’s defences would recognize his presence and retaliate. He turned to see what more damage he could do before he left and sensed a familiar trace somewhere in the maze. The musky earthiness was almost pheromonal, reminding him of a woman’s scent, the hint of sweat found at the base of her throat. Something about it tantalized him with its familiarity, so he followed it. Lightning flashes of motion took him to the source of the familiar contact.

In a dank data storage cell, he found it, a record of an interrogation and mindwashing filed neatly away. The subject was Malika. Seije’s heart cracked as he watched the record of the them dissecting her mind and moulding her. The conditioning was swift and brutal, tearing howls of anguish from her throat. With a curt wave, Seije copied and dismissed the record, watching it flake to cinders and dissipate.

He threw himself back into the main datasphere. He had one more thing to do.

*

Peyton Quintaine’s brow knitted into a frown, and he looked up from his braised veal with mango chutney as Cato’s image formed over the table, incongruous above the bowl of glazed squash. Across the table placed in the office’s window, Ysobel saw the incipient fury of one of her husband’s legendary rages and laid an unyielding hand on his arm to calm him.

“Please forgive the intrusion, Seis.” Cato seemed on the verge of hysteria. Ysobel raised an eyebrow at her husband, whose anger faltered a moment at his assistant’s agitated state. Neither would have thought him capable of that emotion. “There has been another incursion into your accounts. Somewhat more serious than the last. You should see this.”

A graphic representation appeared beside his face, a seething mass of holo light. Peyton recognized the implications instantly, knowing from long experience the meaning of the graphs and readouts. He bounded from his chair and crossed to the desk. “Activate all phage defences, full bore repulsion. I want it stopped.”

“Yes, sir,” Cato answered. “All programs are online, but it seems to be coming from inside.”

“What?!”

“The incursion seems to be showing traces of the agent used before, but a definite Quintaine DiaStellar code string is also involved.”

Blood suffused Peyton’s face in an angry blush. “Find it, stop it, and bring me the head of whoever is responsible. On a pike.”

Ysobel dabbed daintily at the corners of her mouth with her starched linen napkin and rose to join her husband. The swirls of holo light played across her face as she took her place at his side. They were so intent on their plight they didn’t notice the molecular firebreaks quietly slipping into place around the office’s doors and windows.

Like any other tower of its type, Quintaine Tower was equipped with state of the art fire suppression technology. The firebreak sealed the room from surrounding areas while exhaust fans efficiently sucked away the oxygen and suffocated the flames.

Bypassed by Seije, the external fire alarms gave no warning to the proper authorities.

Ysobel noticed it first, a dim haziness at the edge of her vision. She swayed, her hand clawing into Peyton’s shoulder. He looked up at her sharply, about to rebuke her, then saw the look in her eyes. He felt the thin, empty air in the office. His eyes widened as their chests began to heave arrhythmically, and on an atavistic level, he knew what was happening if not exactly why. He turned quickly to his access panel, swaying dizzily and grasping the edges of the desk for support. He slammed keys as his vision swam, placing his hand on the panel for DNA verification. The identity confirmation seemed to be interminable, and he fought to retain consciousness. When the confirmation pinged, he choked out his code and slumped in to his chair.

“Catastrophic intrusion. Initiate emergency response: Scorched Earth.”

Though defensive systems activated deep in the core, it was too late. Throughout the Quintaines’s Tower, alarms rang, as the fire suppression systems sealed off the Quintaines’s office, pumped out all oxygen and replaced it with pure nitrogen.

*

“Anybody home?” Lexa-Blue called as they entered the core’s anteroom. Keene, Ember and Ophir followed, Ember with Vrick’s brainbox under his arm.

Syoko looked up at them, a weary grin on her face. “No one here but us heroes. Come on in and set a spell.”

The others filed into the room, noticing Seije’s still form in the chair. “What’s he doing?” Ember said, concern on his face.

“Getting the scoop on our friends. They left an active tightline channel to their bosses, so he’s gone through to get the dirt,” Syoko said. She looked at the group, the absence in its ranks finally registering. “Where’s Tolan? Still at the bay?”

Keene and Lexa-Blue looked at each other as Ophir spoke. “I’m sorry, Jaq. He’s dead.”

Her face crumpled, then flushed dark with anger. She turned from them and pounded hard against the wall with her fist, two precise blows. None of them went to her, sensing her hard shell of pride. They merely watched as her spine straightened and she turned to them, dry-eyed.

“Seije!” Ember rushed to the older man’s side and touched his face. Seije didn’t respond.

“He said he was going in to see if he could find out who was behind this.”

Ember cursed, the profanities shuddering with a contained panic. “He’s going to get himself killed.” He looked up at them. “We have to help him. Whoever arranged all of this is vicious. He has no idea what he might be up against.”

“Okay, Ember,” Keene said, putting a hand on Ember’s shoulder. “I can go in after him. Vrick, can you run up my proxy routine?”

“Of course,” Vrick answered. “Done.”

“I have to go too,” Ember insisted, his eyes wide. “I can’t let him do this alone. Please.”

Keene looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but then he nodded. “All right, but stick with me and let me lead. Sit.”

Keene dropped cross-legged to the floor, and Ember followed suit. “Vrick run up a basic proxy matrix for Ember and slave it to mine.”

He placed his hands on the sides of Ember’s face. “Listen. Focus. Follow me in and stay close. Vrick, do it.”

As Seije had done, they both went limp, falling forward against each other.

*

Ember fought a wave of nausea that went down to the core of his being. His proxy, a basic, unadorned model with no customization, floated within the unspace of the tightline connection. He saw Keene’s proxy before him like polished ebony, projecting a rich, aromatic cedar scent. As he was told, Ember focussed on all that he knew about Keene, and it felt solid and real, anchoring him in this alien, freeform world he didn’t understand.

*Where are we,* he said to Keene.

*It’s a corporate primeframe. See? Over there, the ident codes are there,* Keene answered, indicating harsh, utilitarian code at the fringe of Ember’s senses.

*Let me see if I can make some sense of it. Vrick?* Keene streamed the code out to the ship.

*On it.* And the answer was there.

*Shit, it’s Quintaine,* Ember said. *We have to help Seije! They’ll kill him if they find him.*

Keene’s wordless assent rolled over Ember in cinnamon spicy waves. He saw the tracer filaments fly from Keene in thousands of threads of light, seeking Seije’s lifeline, the connection of energy holding him in contact with the outside world.

*This way.*

They flew like bolts of white light, following Seije’s signature. Barely a breath later, they saw him, registering the fear surging through him. *The Intrusion Countermeasure programs are after him.*

Violet balls of energy flew at Seije’s proxy from every corner of the datasphere. As they pursued him, they flew apart, swirling into a constellation of razor sharp blades, then collapsed, then exploded again. They were gaining on him.

*Ember, get a fix on the exit back to the Gate and hold it. If they get between us and it, we’re screwed. I’m going after him.*

Ember concentrated, strengthening his grip on his bond to his physical self, knitting it tight with all of his strength. Keene plunged toward Seije and his pursuers, channeling a countermeasure from Vrick and unleashing spiky, sparkling emerald fires that tore into the phages attacking Seije. The datasphere exploded in virtual warfare, phage and counterphage torn apart. The seething pulse of more phages streamed along the connecting bridges between the cubes, homing on their position.

Keene swooped in on Seije and pulled him free of a whirling scythe of anti-invasive software. He evaded another set for a moment and made a charge for Ember, but a new set of attackers boiled up from the bridges of the datasphere. The phages surged into Keene’s path, cutting off his route to Ember and escape. He tore into them with a valiant fury, but the antivirals were too many and too strong. He looked at Seije, and the two of them looked to Ember.

In Seije’s glance, Ember saw everything he had done here, everything he had seen, the data streaming between them like a tightbeam laser. The way back for them was closing, sealing in on itself. If they didn’t go now, they would be trapped here. And in that instant, Ember knew what their only hope of escape was.

*No!*

*There’s no other way, sweet Ember,* Seije said. *I’m not finished here. If I don’t scrub your data and clear these warrants, they’ll haunt you and Malika for the rest of your lives. I can’t have that. I can hold the way for you both, but you have to go now.*

*Vrick, are you there?* Seije called. *Or should I say, Bit?*

*You knew all along, didn’t you?* Vrick said.

*All along,* Seije said, warm amusement rippling out of him. *I’m good at building things, but something like Bit was way beyond me.*

*Why didn’t you say something?*

*It was nice having you around,* Seije said, with gentle, undulating humour.

A fresh wave of intrusion countermeasures flared out of the dark at them.

*No more time,* Seije said, turning his attention back to Ember. *Go. Be good, my sweet boy. And let someone in.*

Keene took hold of Ember’s proxy. *We have to go, Ember. I’m sorry.*

Seije nodded to him, and Ember felt a wave of love that had never before been acknowledged or spoken. Its warmth washed over him, even greater than the coal brightness of his proxy. Suddenly, Ember felt as if he would tear apart from the inside. Then Vrick opened a portal out of the Quintaine datasphere into the web beyond, and they were gone. Severed by their passing, Seije’s lifeline flailed, withered, and was gone.

Sickly pain flooded Ember, making his proxy self tremble. He nearly lost his own lifeline, until he saw the phages regrouping and coming for him. Wracked with grief, he triggered his disengage, and erupted back into the physical world.

*

Barely back in his body, he rushed to the chair where Seije’s body lay lax and blank eyed. He grabbed at Seije’s shirt, groping for some sign of life. “Goddamn you, Seije! Don’t you leave me! You hear me, old man?” he shouted, frantically clutching at Seije’s chest.

A stunned hush fell over the room, suddenly broken by Syoko’s voice. “Med-kit, now!”

She dropped to her knees at Seije’s side, grabbing the med-kit from Keene’s hands, slapping the scan-patch on Seije’s forehead. “Help me lay him down.”

Lexa-Blue helped her stretch Seije out on the floor, while Keene restrained Ember. With a methodical urgency, Syoko ran the med-kit battery of tests on Seije. Finally, the machine let out a flat trill and she shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was bone cold. “All higher brain functions terminated.”

A dry-eyed Ember sagged back into Keene’s arms. Syoko sat back on her heels, the med-kit falling and clattering on the floor. Ophir placed an arm around Initra’s shoulder, and she buried her face in her hands, weeping softly. Lexa-Blue stood, walked across to Shackle’s corpse and lifted the lab-coat Syoko had draped across it, pushing the corpse aside roughly with her foot. She went back to Seije and draped the fabric lovingly over his chest. Slipping off her glove, she softly ran her finger along Seije’s cheek. “Sleep well, Tinker.” Her voice broke. “You’ve earned it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Once the repair crews and supplies started arriving, Keene threw himself into the reconstruction of the Gate’s systems with a passion he hadn’t indulged in years. His time with Lexa-Blue had made it hard to tinker and work on anything other than the maintenance of the Maverick Heart’s systems. The sheer scope of the Gate’s repairs was a challenge that siphoned every minute he, Ophir, Initra and each member of the repair crew had to spare.

After a thorough inventory of the surviving systems, the process of removing the damaged components began, much like the excision of dead tissue. What remained was checked and rechecked for defects and failures before the construction teams reassembled the infrastructure of the Gate’s ring. Scores of millions of nano-builders, each no larger than a microbe, digested the scrap metal and extruded it as fresh, durable alloy.

And still Ophir’s teams rebuilt the delicate matrix that would once again warp space while Initra doggedly reprogrammed all of the AI interface computers to once again control the Nexus point’s energies. Through it all, Keene tried to follow and absorb even a fraction of the radical spatial theories that powered the systems, until his head swam. Then he staggered home, exhausted, to the bed he happily shared with Ember.

He worried about Ember. Since Seije’s death, Ember had remained quiet in his grief. He had been insistent Seije would not have wanted to remain in that mindless state and pulled a copy of Seije’s living will out of Know-It-All that gave him the right to make the final decision. He had demanded to be the one that “pulled the plug” and had initially balked at the prospect of even allowing Keene and Lexa-Blue to be present. He had relented suddenly and with nothing more than an offhand shrug.

Keene had tried to get him to open up and release some of the pain, but had been rebuffed enough times to make him give up. He had settled for holding Ember through the nightmares he still denied having.

*

Ember didn’t even notice when Laylen came to relieve him.

Hunched over the piles of debris, the muscles in his arms and back long past protesting, he hefted the twisted, charred hunks of metal and heaved them into the bin. Back and forth, over and over in a steady monotony of motion. The only way to do the job was to close your brain off and do it.

At least it was just rubble now. No more bodies. Metal and plas is nothing compared to broken flesh and bone. Digging through the wreckage and preparing the remains had taken all of Ember’s strength, all of his famous coldness and focus. Sheer back breaking boredom didn’t seem so bad after that.

So there he was, deep into the trance-like rhythm of the work when he felt Laylen’s hand, cool against the sweat of his bare shoulder.

“Call it a day, Ember.” Her voice was gentle and when he turned to face her, he saw tired compassion in her eyes. “My turn.”

Ember was too tired to even speak by that point, merely nodding and dumping one last chunk of bent metal with the rest. Stepping out of her way, he stretched, feeling the muscles in his lower back howl. Bath, then bed, was the most coherent thought he could manage.

Within days of Seije’s death, shipments of materials to repair the Gate started arriving, all bearing the seal of Quintaine DiaStellar. Enough arrived in the weeks between the news of the gruesome twosome dying and their company falling apart that repairs could begin right away. Ember was sure it had been Seije’s handiwork. He liked picturing Seije running amok in the Quintaines’ primeframe while Peyton and Ysobel were sucking nitrogen and then dancing off into the Know-It-All laughing. It helped him sleep at night.

With no more thought to Laylen and the rest of the changing crew, Ember trudged off in the direction of the outer edge of the ring. He didn’t even stop at the Orbit Tram. It was finally running again, now that the outermost edge of the Gate was intact once more. It was barely a framework in places, but at least the circle was complete again. He guessed the habit of taking the long walk back to the docking bay was too ingrained. He barely even looked up as the Tram sped by.

The hallways were a lot busier now, with the GalSec garrison stationed here and the crews of the four new cutters on and off the station regularly. Keene had told him about how empty the Gate was the first time he came here, but no one would ever know it now. Ember passed several groups of people, mixed groups of techs and GalSec. That’s changed since they all started to arrive. The walls were starting to come down a bit.

As he walked, he caught a glimpse of himself in the window of one of the empty shops. It stopped him cold. The leanness of his body was gone, replaced by a brawn that centred on his upper torso and arms and spoke of hard physical labour. The Gate coverall he wore had the sleeves torn away and the top half opened and rolled down around his hips. Slung low and cinched tight, he could see the white of his underwear, stained where sweat and dirt had run down his chest. It was a far cry from his tux or even the outfit he had worn when he had first arrived on the station. What did I do with that jacket anyway, he thought? Dimly he remembered it being stuck in a closet, waiting to be repaired. And the tux was probably burned to a crisp in what used to be his and Seije’s loft.

He shook his head to push the thoughts away and kept walking. He felt the worst at the end of his shifts. With the cessation of the grinding, dull routine of the repair efforts, Ember discovered how deep and frightening grief could be. One moment, you feel empty, as if every neuron is numb. Then the agony seems more than any human being could possibly bear.

He went through all of that and more in the days after Seije’s death. Keene and Lexa-Blue helped him through it. Gods only know why they put up with me, he thought. He made things pretty hard on them. But they had stuck with him, no matter how awful his anger and grief made him. Lexa-Blue made sure he ate, and Keene held him when he needed it, then let him be when he needed to be alone. Then one day he caught Lexa-Blue looking at a holo of Seije and she had tears in her eyes. In the midst of everything, he had forgotten that they had lost a good friend too.

Ember felt it all sort of pass him by, though. Without the regime of hard work that occupied his mind during the days, he found himself lonely and homesick, which confused him because whenever he thought of Weald, it didn’t feel like home any more. Seije and Mali weren’t there and even the loft was gone. He had no home to go back to. And all of that fouled his mood.

When he entered the Maverick Heart, the ship was quiet. Lexa-Blue and Keene had refused quarters in the station proper, wanting to stay in their home, despite the sorry state ey had been in after the battle. Without any kind of formal discussion, Ember had joined them, sharing Keene’s room.

As Ember walked through the quiescent ship, he saw the door to Lexa-Blue’s quarters was open. The room was still bare, the hull repairs only recently finished, having been superseded by more urgent matters. She had a bed, but not much else, and the linens were simple, pulled out of the station’s stores. Lexa-Blue stood over by the bed, struggling to lift something heavy and awkward. A polished shape of metal was attached to the wall, and even in muted light, Ember could see its colours play across the surface.

“Hey, Ember,” Lexa-Blue said. “Can you give me a hand with this?”

He crossed to her and took the other end of her burden, realizing it was a simple, but stylish frame soldered together from some pieces of scrap that had been polished and rubbed shiny.

“Thanks. Up there onto the hooks, please.”

Together, they settled the frame into place around the found object that was already attached to the wall. Finished, it was an eye-catching and dramatic centrepiece for the room.

“What is that?” he said, feeling a spark of warmth grow in his chest from the simplicity of what she had created. “Is that…”

“It’s a piece of Vrick’s hull. From right about.…there,” she said, pointing to a high point where the repaired inner hull met the wall. “Ey said I could have it.”

“I like it there,” Vrick said. “It’s where it belongs.”

“I agree,” Ember said. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to shower and get some sleep. I’m on an early shift again tomorrow.”

“Rest well,” Lexa-Blue said, her eyes still on her handiwork.

Keene was asleep when Ember entered the room they often shared. Since Keene had the engineering and technical know-how, he had spent his time rebuilding the Gate’s core systems, and they were often on opposite schedules. Without that kind of specialized knowledge, Ember had been reduced to grunt work.

They had been working round the clock since they’d beaten the cadre of mercenaries that had attacked the Gate, stopping only for memorial services for the dead. Ember had only gone to Tolan’s. He was the only one Ember had known and even that was only slightly. He just kept working during the others. He had fished their bodies out of the wreckage and then had nightmares for weeks. That was about all he could handle.

Ember stripped off his rank coverall and underwear and tossed them into the recycler. No one washed them anymore. The stink was too pervasive, and they never came completely clean. Quietly, he went into the shower and scrubbed away the day before slipping into bed. Keene stirred, making a mumbling sleepy noise and Ember froze. Keene’s shift started in a few hours, and Ember didn’t want to deprive him of any desperately needed sleep. He settled again, snuggling up to Ember’s side. His warmth felt good against Ember’s damp skin. He lay there in the dark, waiting for sleep, despite his utter weariness, relishing the heavy arm around his chest.

For only the thousandth time, he found himself thinking about Mali, thinking about the sight of her as they pulled her out of the pod. The cutters had collected the pods once they restored power and reeled in the survivors. There wasn’t much to bring them back to, but the cutters were well stocked with medical supplies and personnel.

But they couldn’t do much about the look in Mali’s eyes. She didn’t talk about it for days and when she finally opened up, it just about killed her. Once the supply ships and emergency ships started to arrive, the counsellors helped her as much as they could, but she couldn’t stay.

“I can’t help it, Ember,” she said one day as they were walking. “There’s too much here, too many memories of what happened.”

“Where will you go?” he said, his voice small.

She looked fragile and helpless, like a child. “I don’t know. Somewhere with no ghosts.”

Once the legal hassles of the warrants on Weald was settled, she left on the Lightstorm when it headed back to its base for repairs. They arranged an open ended travel account for her, and he held her tight in the landing bay with two of the Lightstorm’s crew watching. The counsellors managed to clear out the conditioning those butchers had put in her head, and for the first time Ember saw some sparks of the old Mali he knew and loved. But there was something in her eyes he’d never seen there before.

Shame.

*

Keene was gone when Ember woke up almost nine hours later. Not surprisingly, he hadn’t even roused when Keene had left. Ember padded into the ship’s common room wearing the robe he had borrowed from Keene. I’m reduced to hand-me-downs and generic coveralls, he thought. Not that he didn’t have a healthy credit balance in his account back on Weald, but there was nothing here to buy.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he set about making some coffee.

“Good morning, Ember,” Vrick said. “You’re on your own for breakfast today. Both Keene and Lexa-Blue are already on shift.”

Story of my life these days, he thought. Out loud, he said, “Thanks, Vrick. At least I have your company.”

“That’s true,” ey answered. “Though I’m off to help run diagnostics on the new nexus generators in a few minutes.”

“Oh, well. It’s nice to talk to someone, even for a few minutes,” he replied, stinging at the thought of being rejected even by an AS.

“Oh, before you go,” Vrick said. “Would you mind taking care of something for me?”

Ember frowned, puzzled. The ship had always been cordial to him, but had never asked for something as intimate as a favour. “Of course.”

“There’s someone arriving on the crew transport this morning. I think it would be good to have someone there to meet her. If it’s not an imposition.”

For an instant, Ember’s heart soared, thinking it might be Malika returning, but the faint wisp of hope dissipated before it could take root. “It’s no trouble at all,” he said, masking his disappointment as best he could. “Who is she?”

“Oh, just someone in need of a new start,” Vrick said, coyly. “She has some skills I thought might be useful to getting the Gate back up and running, and the reconstruction team agreed with me.”

“Well, now I’m definitely curious,” Ember said, smiling over the rim of his cup as he drank. “Do I have time to finish my coffee?”

“The ship is docking two berths over. You don’t even have to leave the docking bay.”

“You think of everything,” Ember said.

“I’m flattered you think I have that much control over what happens here, but I can’t take credit for the incoming ship schedule.”

Remembering all he had seen Vrick do since they had met, Ember wasn’t so sure.

Vrick made small talk for a few more minutes, and Ember followed with just enough attention to know when a response was required. Eventually, Vrick signed off when Gatekeeper signalled for es attention, leaving Ember alone with his pungent black coffee.

He was rinsing out his mug when his node informed him of the new ship’s arrival. Leaving the galley, he walked down Vrick’s ramp, watching in the direction of the docking bay’s port.

The ship was centred in the opening, brightly metallic against the backdrop of stars. The hull of the ship sparkled as it passed through the field holding atmosphere in the bay, coming to a gentle rest on a blur of landing thrusters. He waited as the ship settled, the bay extending umbilicals and connections to mate with the hull. Finally, a long ramp extending along the ship’s keel descended and touched the deck plating.

Ember recognized the face from the news stories about the hostile takeover he had studied what seemed like an eternity ago, when he had initially cased the Quintaine job. The round face that had once seemed so confident in her public relations material seemed more tired now, which shouldn’t have surprised him at all. As she came closer, he saw the smart, shrewd eyes were a little more hooded and wary than they had once been.

“Hi,” he said. “You look lost.”

Her face softened instantly. “Well, I know where I’m supposed to go, but I have no idea how to get there. So, yeah, pretty much.”

He held out a hand. “I’m Ember.”

“Sindel,” she said, taking the hand he offered. Her grip was firm and sure. “Sindel Kestra.”

“I know,” he said with a smile.

She furrowed her brow, but the expression vanished into a bright, warm smile. “Of course, you were told to expect me.”

Yes, Ember thought. Let’s go with that.

“When they contacted me about this project and offered me the job, I couldn’t quite believe it,” she said, looking around her. Ember knew from her tone she was looking far beyond the docking bay itself. “I’ve been out of work a while. It will be good to get back at it.”

*This was you, wasn’t it?* Ember ‘pushed to Vrick. Now that he knew that ey had been directly involved in so much of Ember’s other career, this new development didn’t surprise him at all.

*It seemed mutually beneficial. After that, it was simple to put the right words in the right ears. The Technarch of Brighter Light was only too happy to offer Sei Kestra a job when he became aware she was available.*

*Thank you.*

Ember saw that Kestra was looking at him expectantly.

“The Security Chief likes to welcome everyone aboard personally,” he said and smiled. “She looks tough, but underneath…well, underneath she really is. I’ll show you the way.”

*

After months of round the clock work, the Gate was finally ready. All the final test results showed the gateway was functioning perfectly. The supply ships left and this time didn’t return. The cutters remained, and everyone who had lived through the previous disaster breathed a sigh of relief.

A plaque commemorating the compatriots that had lost their lives was unveiled and laid in a prominent place on the main concourse. After the unveiling, Keene, Lexa-Blue, Ember, Ophir, Initra, and Jaq Syoko met in the Cobalt Lounge, the first of the new businesses opened to cater to the expected crowds. The eatery had a clear ceiling that looked up at the wide arc of the Gate itself, as well an excellent view of the ZeroBall courts. A tournament was due to begin that afternoon. Teams had been mustered in the wake of the Gate’s reopening, one made up of repair personnel and one from the new GalSec contingent that reported to Jaq.

Initra and Ophir were leaving that afternoon to supervise the next Gate construction projects. There were ten in development and it would take most of the year just to make sure they were all progressing properly, followed by a rotating tour of continuing inspections. The group had gathered to mourn their losses and say goodbye.

Ophir raised his glass. “To our fallen heroes. Every journey through this Gate honours them. And we share with them the future we have begun here.”

They all drank. Jaq Syoko refilled glasses. “Pheris Tolan. He gave his all and he deserved better.”

“To Seije,” was all Ember said. Keene took his hand and squeezed it. The reciprocal pressure was hard but momentary. Ember slipped his hand away to wipe a solitary tear from his eye.

Keene turned to Ophir. “So, it could be a long while before you’re back this way again. Be proud of what you’ve done here. What you both started.” He squeezed Ophir’s arm.

“But the cost…” Ophir said, his usual bluster and excitement dulled.

“Was it worth that?” Ember said, the question coming out so fast it even surprised him.

Keene exhaled, and the sound was full of doubts and confusion. “How many angels dance on the head of a pin?”

Ember looked at him, confused.

“It’s about as easy to answer as your question,” Keene said. “I honestly don’t know.”

“So why did we do it?”

Keene shrugged. “You sure know how to pick your questions. Because it’s there?”

Keene saw that Ember was not amused.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He took a breath, gathered his thoughts and gestured at the Gate. “That thing out there is going to change everything. How we do business, where we go, and how we get there. The history of progress is built on a pile of bodies down through time. Everything has a price. The Quintaines were ready to kill a lot of people to have the Gate to themselves. That should tell you just what kind of impact it will have. We stopped them.” He paused. “And what we did saved lives.”

“And we helped out some friends,” Lexa-Blue said. “It was quite an adventure.”

Ember was stunned by her cavalier attitude, Seije’s death still pounding in his heart. She read his expression all too easily, and her face softened.

“Don’t look at me like that, Ember,” she said. She had real pain in her voice, with a hard edge of self-awareness. “I loved him too. But this is how I live my life and why I’m out here instead of dirtside in an office. I would have died for Seije if I could. Spacers depend on each other for their lives. You don’t turn your back when one of your own needs you.”

Through his grief, he saw what she meant. He and Seije had it. He and Malika had it. Now he could feel the beginnings of it with Keene and Lexa-Blue. He found himself thinking that perhaps Seije and Tolan’s deaths had meant something after all. But it was cold comfort.

“So what now, Jaq?” Lexa-Blue said, her voice uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Well, there’s going to be a lot of traffic through here soon,” Syoko said, then shrugged. “Someone has to keep an eye on things.”

“And there’s no one better,” Lexa-Blue said sincerely, clinking her glass against the older woman’s.

Ophir signalled the waiter for more drinks. “What about you three? What’s on the agenda for you?”

Keene looked back and forth from Ember to Lexa-Blue, unsure what was next for their new threesome. Ember said nothing, but Lexa-Blue smiled a cool, confident smile.

“We’ve earned a rest, I think. There’ll always be merchant work waiting, but not quite yet.”

Keene focussed again on Ember and recognized the faraway look in his eyes. He’s thinking about Seije again and about a home that’s gone. And I don’t blame him one bit. He squeezed Ember’s hand again.

After another round of drinks, Initra and Ophir had to leave to make their departure time. After a round of handshakes and embraces, the two were gone. Jaq followed, saying she had a new staff to whip into shape. Only the three remained, ordering food and settling in for the tournament.

Ember half-heartedly scanned the menu, ordering the first thing his eyes settled on for more than a second. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Sindel to join us. She’s never seen ZeroBall live before.”

“Fine by me,” Lexa-Blue said. “She’s cute. And I like ‘em brainy.”

“You like them breathing,” Keene said.

“Considerably better than the alternative.”

“She’s got you there, Keene,” Ember said, feeling the weight in his heart lighten at the easy friendship he was, if only a bit, becoming part of.

“See, I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Lexa-Blue said.

“Check it out,” Keene said, scowling at Ember, and pointing at the ZeroBall schedule for that afternoon. “It’s Serreau and Coling. This should be a good match.”

Lexa-Blue nodded. “Serreau has the technique, but Coling’s unbelievable at pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Care to make a friendly wager?”

Keene chuckled and nodded. “Fifty on Serreau.”

*Serrau is a one set wonder,* Vrick said. *He’ll crash in the second. Just watch.*

*You’re bonkers, Vrick,* Keene said.

*Ha, even the junkpile agrees with me,* Lexa-Blue said. *You know you’re in trouble now.*

The opening buzzer sounded and the two players were off. Within minutes, Ember was bored and fidgety, unable to concentrate on the game.

A glint of starlight on metal caught his eye. Through the port overhead, looking out onto the immense ring of the newly complete gate, he could see a ship, tiny as a toy from this distance, moving into position to go through the Gate.

Ember felt Keene’s hand rest on his arm. Without turning, he laid his own hand on top of Keene’s and let it stay there. Ember didn’t need to look at the him to feel his surprise that he hadn’t pulled away.

“Are you all right?” Keene said.

Ember turned to him and smiled, squeezing Keene’s hand, then looked back out at the ship. The flare of the ship’s drive field manoeuvered it into position, and then died as the Gate’s tractor field took hold if it. Above his head, the Gate’s glow began to brighten, the port polarizing to cut most of the glare.

Slowly the ship moved forward and Ember felt his heart begin to race. “Look,” he said to the others.

Keene and Lexa-Blue both looked up, seeing where his attention was focussed. They fell silent, all thoughts of the game forgotten, feeling Vrick’s presence there with them as ey accessed the Gate’s system to watch with them.

The ship moved ever so slowly closer, the Gate’s energy growing until finally, ship and energy kissed.

Lexa-Blue, lifted her glass one more time and the others followed suit, not knowing if it was for Seije, Tolan, or even for any one person in particular.

“Burn bright,” she said, and they saw the Gate open, its golden light washing over them.

About the Author

Born on the prairies, Stephen Graham King has since traded the big sky for the big city and now lives in Toronto. His first book, Just Breathe, tells the blunt, funny, and uncompromising story of his three-year battle with metastatic synovial sarcoma. Since then, his short fiction has appeared in the anthologies North of Infinity II (“Pas de Deux”), Desolate Places (“Nor Winter’s Cold”) and Ruins Metropolis (“Burning Stone”). His first novel, Chasing Cold, was released in 2012, and the first Maverick Heart novel, Soul’s Blood came out in 2016. He is currently working on the next book in the series, A Congress of Ships.

Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

Gatecrasher by Stephen Graham King. Aided by a high tech thief, the Maverick Heart crew race against time to prevent a cadre of savage corporate mercenaries from seizing control of a revolutionary wormhole technology. (978-1-62639-936-5)

Death Goes Overboard by David S. Pederson. Heath Barrington and Alan Keyes are two sides of a steamy love triangle as they encounter gangsters, con men, murder, and more aboard an old lake steamer. (978-1-62639-907-5)

A Careful Heart by Ralph Josiah Bardsley. Be careful what you wish for…love changes everything. (978-1-62639-887-0)

Worms of Sin by Lyle Blake Smythers. A haunted mental asylum turned drug treatment facility exposes supernatural detective Finn M’Coul to an outbreak of murderous insanity, a strange parasite, and ghosts that seek sex with the living. (978-1-62639-823-8)

Tartarus by Eric Andrews-Katz. When Echidna, Mother of all Monsters, escapes from Tartarus and into the modern world, only an Olympian has the power to oppose her. (978-1-62639-746-0)

Rank by Richard Compson Sater. Rank means nothing to the heart, but the Air Force isn’t as impartial. Every airman learns that rank has its privileges. What about love? (978-1-62639-845-0)

The Grim Reaper’s Calling Card by Donald Webb. When Katsuro Tanaka begins investigating the disappearance of a young nurse, he discovers more missing persons, and they all have one thing in common: The Grim Reaper Tarot Card. (978-1-62639-748-4)

Smoldering Desires by C.E. Knipes. Evan McGarrity has found the man of his dreams in Sebastian Tantalos. When an old boyfriend from Sebastian’s past enters the picture, Evan must fight for the man he loves. (978-1-62639-714-9)

Tallulah Bankhead Slept Here by Sam Lollar. A coming of age/coming out story, set in El Paso of 1967, that tells of Aaron’s adventures with movie stars, cool cars, and topless bars. (978-1-62639-710-1)

Death Came Calling by Donald Webb. When private investigator Katsuro Tanaka is hired to look into the death of a high-profile lawyer, he becomes embroiled in a case of murder and mayhem. (978-1-60282-979-4)

The City of Seven Gods by Andrew J. Peters. In an ancient city of aerie temples, a young priest and a barbarian mercenary struggle to refashion their lives after their worlds are torn apart by betrayal. (978-1-62639-775-0)

Lysistrata Cove by Dena Hankins. Jack and Eve navigate the maelstrom of their darkest desires and find love by transgressing gender, dominance, submission, and the law on the crystal blue Caribbean Sea. (978-1-62639-821-4)

Garden District Gothic by Greg Herren. Scotty Bradley has to solve a notorious thirty-year-old unsolved murder that has terrible repercussions in the present. (978-1-62639-667-8)

The Man on Top of the World by Vanessa Clark. Jonathan Maxwell falling in love with Izzy Rich, the world’s hottest glam rock superstar, is not only unpredictable but complicated when a bold teenage fan-girl changes everything. (978-1-62639-699-9)

The Orchard of Flesh by Christian Baines. With two hotheaded men under his roof including his werewolf lover, a vampire tries to solve an increasingly lethal mystery while keeping Sydney’s supernatural factions from the brink of war. (978-1-62639-649-4)

Funny Bone by Daniel W. Kelly. Sometimes sex feels so good you just gotta giggle! (978-1-62639-683-8)

The Thassos Confabulation by Sam Sommer. With the inheritance of a great deal of money, David and Chris also inherit a nondescript brown paper parcel and a strange and perplexing letter that sends David on a quest to understand its meaning. (978-1-62639-665-4)

The Photographer’s Truth by Ralph Josiah Bardsley. Silicon Valley tech geek Ian Baines gets more than he bargained for on an unexpected journey of self-discovery through the lustrous nightlife of Paris. (978-1-62639-637-1)

Crimson Souls by William Holden. A scorned shadow demon brings a centuries-old vendetta to a bloody end as he assembles the last of the descendants of Harvard’s Secret Court. (978-1-62639-628-9)