The singing studio was nothing more than a hollowed-out, dressed and pressurized chamber in an asteroid, but to Katja, it was pure release.
The thunderous opening strains of the recorded orchestra washed over her in the darkness. It was a particular aria from Mozart’s The Magic Flute—the aria she’d always dreamed would be the jewel in the crown of her graduation performance with a Fine Arts degree. Her first notes were low and powerful, the melody of German words flowing from her lips with the ease of years’ practice.
Her pitch rose as required, and she felt her throat and lungs come alive as they released their power. Oh, it was glorious to be able to truly sing again! She knew what was coming—the famous staccato refrain—but the passion was in her and she felt no fear. The music countered her voice, she paused… and let the heavenly notes fly. The darkness in the room was banished by the full power of a restored coloratura soprano at the height of her ability.
She paused the recording. Silence fell in the studio as she brought the lights up again. There was more to the aria, she knew, but having finally conquered the staccato she knew the rest would be anticlimactic. She’d sing the whole piece another day. There were no demanding professors or senior classmates sneering at her now.
Queen of the Night this, she thought smugly.
She’d fought to regain her true singing voice for months in her time off at SFHQ, and the sheer pleasure of exploring her old repertoire had been exhilarating, but now she’d done something she’d never mastered in her training, and she’d done it on her own. It was a good feeling. It helped her to forget about the real world.
<Katja.>
She sighed. But the real world never left her alone for long.
<Sir?> she replied to Korolev’s polite query.
<Please join me in control room two.>
<Yes, sir.>
She’d been promised a break. After the penetrating debrief of the last mission had left her mentally exhausted, she’d been assured that she’d done her job as well as could have been expected, and been granted some time off. This time, she really needed it.
Shutting down the studio, she walked out into the wide boulevard of the hobby wing. Tall trees lined both sides of the main path, and beyond them the street was lined with boutique “shops” designed to cater to any interest or fancy an operative might express. The studio had been built especially for Katja as soon as she’d arrived last year, but if ever she wanted to try her hand at something else, the options seemed limitless. Pottery, archery, and even snorkeling had all been welcome distractions at various times, but the singing was her own private obsession.
The climbing wall loomed high behind one of the boutiques, and a sudden twinge of sadness struck her. That had been Chang’s latest interest, she knew, before that Centauri bitch dumped him, exposed, into the Bulk. Sorrow morphed into anger, as it so often did, and Katja quickened her pace. If Korolev wanted to interrupt her private time, he’d better have a damn good reason.
Operatives were never permanently paired up, and she’d done half a dozen missions either alone or with another operative. But Chang had been her rock, always there to listen as she unloaded after each mission. He’d never been anything but honest with her, and never anything but supportive. Just like when he’d been her sergeant back in the Corps. He would bail her out of a scrape, and then let her take all the glory. He’d been a constant in her life, the constant in her life, and now he was gone.
She absently touched the spot in her chest where the quantum entanglement had screamed his death. It was as if the very fabric of the universe had captured that agony, and then lodged it in her heart.
Somebody was going to pay for that.
Hopefully Korolev had a new target for her.
It was strange to enter the operational section of SFHQ in her civilian clothes, but Katja didn’t feel intimidated by the uniforms around her. She was an operative, and her actions were beyond question. She was unhindered in her approach to control room two, and inside she found Korolev alone, his eyes watching the large screen on a console before him. He looked up.
“My apologies for disturbing you,” he said.
“I assume you have a good reason.”
“Always.”
“Word on Moretti?”
“No,” he replied. “She’s gone underground, and isn’t moving, but she’s still on Earth somewhere. Our exposure campaign will either keep her buried—and ineffective—or get her spotted. We have assets in position to move the moment we see her.”
“Are you sending me back in, then?” She heard the relish in her own voice.
“No, this hunt requires patience.”
“So what do you want me for?”
He gestured toward the screen in front of him. “We’ve been training a new operative, and I want to pair him with you for your next mission.”
Curious, Katja walked over to see. Until now she’d always been paired with operatives who were senior to her. It was quite a compliment to be trusted with a new recruit.
The screen before her was a feed from one of the physical training rooms, and the karate sensei was drilling a white belt. Obviously not a recruit from the Corps, then—troopers trained in karate, then judo, then aikido from basic training up into the senior ranks. Katja herself had possessed a black belt in the first two disciplines, even before she joined Special Forces, and her progress in aikido had accelerated over the past year.
“Someone from the Fleet?” she asked.
“A pilot. I think you know him.”
Her stomach tightened. Katja didn’t make a habit of getting to know pilots. She looked closer, and recognized the shaggy brown hair dripping in sweat as the recruit worked through his drills.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“You don’t approve?”
She bit down her instinctive response, forcing herself to see the issue from all sides. Jack Mallory wasn’t a trooper, but not every operative lived at the pointy end like she did. He was crazy smart, true, and young enough to be malleable. But still…
“I don’t know.”
“I think you two will be paired well together,” Korolev said evenly. “You have complementary skills, and an existing rapport. There is a critical mission I want you both to conduct.”
Katja stiffened, aware that the brigadier was watching her in that all-seeing way of his.
“Sir… I’ve never shied away from duty before, but it’s only been a few weeks since the last mission, and that one took its toll.”
“I’m not asking you to deploy this afternoon,” he said. “Jack still needs more training, and the time for your mission isn’t here yet, but I want you to get reacquainted with him now so that he can get used to the idea that you’re still alive, and that you’ll be working together.”
“You haven’t told him about me yet?”
“He’s had a lot to take in these past few weeks. If I’d told him about you before now, he’d just have been distracted, and most likely he would have wanted to see you.”
“So you want me to just wander down to the dojo and say hi.”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“I’m not sure I approve of your method.”
“Well, I thought with me being commander of Special Forces, and all…”
He was right, and she knew it. Who was she to question him? So she pushed down her objections, and looked back at the monitor. Jack was desperately trying to block the sensei’s careful strikes.
“How’s he adapting to the implants?”
“His ability to maneuver in the Cloud is unprecedented. It’s as if his mind was always wired to exist in a wider space. He’s been poring through the depths of Terran knowledge like a fish in water.” Korolev sighed. “I’ve been tempted on occasion to implement some sort of parental controls on his access—do you know how many porn sites are out there?—but he’s a young man and I wanted to let him explore uninhibited.”
Katja smiled. Jack was still Jack.
“I’ll arrange a pretty playdate for him,” she said. “Someone sultry.”
“You’re welcome to do the job yourself.”
“Oh, please.” Katja frowned. “It’d be like fucking my kid brother. Besides, if we’re going to be partners, I want to keep things at a certain distance. I don’t sleep within the chain of command.” It was an automatic statement, and she knew it wasn’t universally true. Korolev knew it too. She glared at him. “Shut up.”
His expression was maddeningly noncommittal.
“I guess I should go and reintroduce myself,” she said.
“There’s plenty of time to get reacquainted. You’ll be taking over the majority of his training from now on.”
She paused. So much for off-time—but she could always make Jack listen to her sing. That might be fun. And, she realized as she left the control room, it was actually kind of exciting to see an old friend. Her pace quickened as she approached the dojo.
The lesson was just ending, and Katja slipped off her shoes at the edge of the mats as Jack bowed to the sensei. She stepped onto the padded surface, watching him closely as he grabbed a towel and mopped his face and hair. The flush of blood in his features highlighted the faint scars of his reconstructive surgery, but otherwise he looked much the same as she remembered him. He noticed her approach without recognition.
Her hair was still black from the last op, she realized, and he’d rarely seen her in casual civilian clothes. She stepped closer, toying with the idea of actually pretending to be someone else. But, she decided, if he was an operative now, he’d better be able to handle shocks.
“How’s the training?” she asked.
“Oh, great,” he said with a grin, half-glancing at her as he gathered his gear. “I’m doing well with my white belt of purity. Soon I’ll be promoted to yellow belt of humility. Then eventually orange belt of servility…”
“Jack,” she said, standing carefully at arm’s length. “Please look at me.”
He did, and she watched his young face morph from the mild surprise of her request through confusion, then realization, then shock. He stared at her in silence.
“I’m still alive,” she said.
His eyes flicked across her features, looking her up and down before boring into her.
“Are you a clone?”
“What?” She took a half step back. “No, I’m Katja… for real. I wasn’t killed in the attack on Longreach, and I’ve been in Special Forces ever since.”
“But… your family thinks you’re dead.”
“And officially I am.”
“But I thought you were dead!”
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
His face twisted in anger, and she saw the punch coming. She knocked it away, stepping back to keep her distance from Jack’s follow-through. Then, remarkably, he lowered to one knee and bowed his head, his body shuddering…
…with laughter.
He chortled quietly at first, then tilted his head back in a guffaw that filled the dojo. He rose back to his feet and sized her up again with bright eyes.
“You, madame, are a bitch.”
Relief flooded through her, a sincere smile spreading across her face.
“It’s good to see you again, flyboy.”
“If I try to give you a hug are you going to bat me aside again?”
She responded by stepping toward him, arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders. He was radiating heat, and the fabric of his gui was unpleasantly damp, but she didn’t care. He was Jack Mallory, boy wonder, and he was here in the flesh. Life suddenly took on a little more meaning.
<How’s this?>
Katja braced her mind against the flood of data Jack pushed toward her, following as many lines of thought as she could but still not keeping up. The connections he’d made between commuter movements around the Pacific Rim, energy spikes, consumer downloads, State transport schedules, and even the damned weather… they were remarkable. It made her head hurt just trying to grasp the overall conclusions he presented.
“Very good,” Korolev said, seated next to her, “but remember to filter out the irrelevant data when you share it with us.”
“I’m not always sure if something is going to be irrelevant,” Jack replied.
“At first, no,” Korolev countered, “but when you present to us, you should’ve already figured out what info we need. If you bombard us with everything you’ve investigated, it gets confusing.”
Jack nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “I guess sometimes I’m still working through possible connections. I’ll have a solid web of analysis for you, but I’m still chasing secondary ideas.”
“It’s great stuff, Jack,” Katja said. “I’ve been living the Cloud for over a year, and I’m having trouble keeping up with you. You’re a natural.”
“Too bad there aren’t black belts for Cloud analysis,” he said with a wry grin.
“You’ll get there,” she said, jabbing at him and easily beating his late block.
“Stop that. I have a beautiful mind.”
Korolev rose from the table. His amused expression encompassed both of them.
“You’re coming together nicely as a team. Not long now, and I’ll send you on a field exercise to see how well you interact in the real world.”
Katja glanced at Jack, watching his expression stiffen. Korolev departed and they were alone in the briefing room, facing each other across the table.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Taking this stuff into the real world,” he said. “Sounds a little scary.”
“It’ll be something routine, probably on Earth.”
“Why Earth?”
“We won’t have to worry about environmentals, and the Cloud is busiest there.” She rose from her seat and beckoned for him to follow. “Let’s get out of here—I need to breathe fresh air.”
He followed her out into the corridor, and she headed for the elevator to take them back up to the main living chamber.
“What sort of missions have you done?” he asked as they stepped into the lift.
“All sorts,” she replied. “My last one was to protect a senior politician against Centauri assassination.”
“I haven’t heard of any politicians dying lately, so I assume it was a success.”
She glanced over at him. “The politician lived, if that’s what you mean, but we lost two operatives in the fight.”
“Oh.” He pondered that for a long moment. “I kind of thought you guys were invincible.”
“Unfortunately not, and ‘you guys’ includes you, now, Jack. Do you feel invincible?”
“Nope.”
The elevator door opened onto the wide walkway and Katja stepped out, breathing in the cool air and looking out across the park that stretched below them. The ceiling illumination indicated late afternoon, and as she strolled over to the stone railing she spotted a group of suntanners relaxing by the pond. She’d never been one for lying down and cooking her skin, but a nice swim might be just the thing.
“I think I’ll head down to the water,” she said. “You feel like a swim?”
He made a show of rubbing his shoulder.
“The sensei has beaten the strength out of pretty much every muscle I have. I don’t know if I could even doggy paddle.”
“You need to keep at it, if you want to look like the rest of us.” She patted the soft belly under his coveralls.
“Yeah, I get the feeling that it’s always bikini season here.” His eyes flickered up and down her form, as they often did. She wasn’t interested, but still flattered by the attention.
“How else can we pull off our sexpionage missions?” she smirked.
“You really do that?” His expression wasn’t quite as pantingly sophomoric as she’d expected.
“If required.” She shrugged, not particularly proud of the fact, and regretting her attempt at humor.
“Hmm.” He patted his belly. “Then I guess I better ease off on the cookies.”
“The ladies will love you,” she said, leaning forward on the cool stone of the railing.
“So what other kinds of missions do you do?” he asked.
“Oh, all sorts. Why?”
“Do you often execute ship captains?”
Her blood froze in her veins. And there it was. She’d always wondered if Jack had known it was her under that helmet.
Turning to fully face her companion, she folded her arms and stared at him. To his credit, he didn’t drop his own gaze. If anything, his eyes became as cold as hers. There was a question in his face, she could see, but there was also something else. Was it judgement?
“That was my first mission. It was intended to test my loyalty to the State.”
“I stood there,” he said quietly, “and watched as you put your gun to my captain’s head and blew his brains out. Then you tortured my science officer…”
“I didn’t torture her.”
“You twisted her arm behind her back until it snapped, and then you beat the crap out of Thomas Kane and dragged him out under arrest.”
Kicking Thomas in the gut was one of the more satisfying things she’d ever done on a mission, but she really didn’t like being reminded of her actions. If they were in the past, they didn’t matter.
“My mission was to enforce the verdict of a Fleet Marshall Investigation. Those are rarely pretty.”
“So you were just following orders.”
“Yes.” She definitely sensed disapproval from him. “Do you have something to say about that?”
His lips parted, but no words came out. He studied her anew, with none of the eager youth she’d always known.
“I’ll follow orders,” he said finally, “but I’m not going to sacrifice my humanity.”
This was dangerous ground and she wanted nothing to do with it.
“We’re servants of the State, Jack. The State carries the burden of our actions.”
“I don’t know if I can give up that burden.”
“Then you’d better learn, and fast.” Her mind unwillingly flashed back over that first mission, as she’d carried out her orders with brutal efficiency. She pushed down the memory, but in its place rose the faces of the dozen or more Terran civilians she’d killed. By order of the State. And the—no. She wouldn’t think about it.
It wasn’t her responsibility.
“It was in almost this exact spot,” she said, “where another operative named Shin Mun-Hee once questioned my actions. Shin is dead now, and I’m still alive, so which one of us made the right choices?”
“I want to stay alive, too,” he said. His expression changed again, as he withdrew from her. “I’ll have your back, just like I know you’ll have mine, but I don’t know if I can do what you do.”
She forced her arms down, adopting a more relaxed posture. It seemed to work, and Jack’s stance loosened.
“You don’t have to do what I do,” she said. “As a team we work toward the same goals, but we have different jobs. You’re the support, and I’m the pointy end—but our loyalty must be beyond question.”
He nodded, still pondering before finally meeting her eye.
“The State has my loyalty, Katja. I’m here to serve, and to make a real difference.”
She watched him carefully, almost feeling his emotions as he grappled with the issue of what their job entailed. It clearly troubled him, although it had never troubled her. Or so she always told herself.
“Good.” She looked over at the distant pond. “You still up for a swim?”
“Yeah, sure, sounds good. I’ll meet you down there.”
She left him, stalking away without a backward glance. She’d always remembered fondly Jack Mallory’s youthful earnestness, but being faced with it head-on, as he questioned her actions, was suddenly uncomfortable. Entering her quarters, she automatically made for the armchair, but paused behind it, fingers gripping into its soft material. The anger was boiling up, and she embraced it.
Damn him and his pathetic questions. Who was Jack Mallory to question the will of the State? If she didn’t like him so much she’d be tempted to mention his doubts to their commander.
Tears began welling up in her eyes, the horror buried deep in her heart trying to burst free. As always, her anger fought them down, but Jack’s honest features and blunt questioning kept intruding into her mind, almost making her anger into a negative. She didn’t want to think about her past actions.
She didn’t have to think about her past actions.
The armchair was too cumbersome to lift, so she lashed out and grabbed the nearest dining chair. Hefting it over her head she smashed it down against the hardwood table. The legs cracked off cleanly—not enough damage. She swung the chair down again and felt the grim satisfaction of the frame snapping. For a second she wished it was Jack’s head.
Damn him, damn him, damn him. How dare he question her? How dare he impose morality on their mission? It wasn’t his place.
But he was new, she said to herself through deep, calming breaths. He was still learning the life of an operative. They were relieved of all responsibility for their actions. He needed to understand that he was going to be taken care of—completely— in exchange for his loyalty. Maybe he needed a pleasant reminder of that.
She linked up to the Confidential Requirements of SFHQ.
<I want to order a pretty playdate for Operative Jack Mallory.>
<Yes, ma’am,> came the polite reply. <Any preferences?>
<A little voluptuous—he’s a bit sensitive about his own weight. Have her come down to the pond in thirty minutes and casually meet him.>
Nothing could distract a young man from his troubles better than the attention of a beautiful woman. He’d learn soon enough to stop worrying about the outside world, and focus on his job. No judgements—no consequences.
<I also need a furniture repair crew to the quarters of Operative Katja Emmes.>
<Right away, ma’am.>
A momentary image of Jack’s impending pleasure filled her mind, and she felt a sudden need herself.
<And make sure one of the repairmen is available for a playdate afterward.>
<Yes, ma’am.>
Feeling the anger course through her, blocking out all other feelings, Katja finally began to calm down. Everything was going to be all right.
No judgements. No consequences.