7

 

 

COEI Daybreak

‘955.01.23 EN

1840

 

The outrigger fleet came in fast. After twenty hours of hard acceleration and deceleration on the back of the spines, then riding on momentum alone for the last hour to hide the emissions of their tiny drives, they burst into the sky around Galine Four like the absent stars. Seventy-six all-suits in total, more than half of them empty and teleoperated either by their original owners or the Box, while the spines remained hidden far away; behind the outriggers, six lumbering prowling mines—big tanklike masses of metal designed to overtake sluggish asteroids and slowly tear them to pieces; and hidden among them, carefully camouflaged as another prowling mine, the Ana Vereine—using its shields to protect as many of the outriggers as possible until they were within firing range.

Roche occupied the copilot’s chair of Daybreak, fully suited and ready to disembark at a moment’s notice. Her suit had come from the holds of the Ana Vereine and was a substantial improvement on the old one: cool air circulated across every part of her body; silent servo-assists gave her increased strength and agility; hidden weapons awaited her slightest mental prompt to attack. Information flowed across eyes-up displays and through her implants; she could see from a dozen different viewpoints simultaneously, and could eavesdrop as needed on the outriggers’ exchanges. She was like an angry insect queen surrounded by her warriors, swooping in for the kill.

Beside her, Haid sat similarly dressed. Mavalhin and Disisto wore the COE suits that had come with the courier vessel, but they weren’t armed. Roche had promised Mavalhin a hand weapon when they boarded Galine Four, but she still hadn’t decided whether to keep that promise or not.

Behind them waited four empty combat suits from the Ana Vereine. These would accompany them onto Galine Four, to be directed by the Box if that proved to be possible. There was no guarantee that they would be able to communicate with the fleet outside. It was worth taking the chance, though, Roche thought. If the drones did work, they would effectively double their numbers.

It seemed to take the Galine Four defenders a moment to believe what they were seeing. By the time the first shots were fired, the outriggers were almost in range. As soon as they were, the formation dissolved and return fire began to come in.

“How’s your status?” she asked the Ana Vereine.

“Just waiting on your signal, Morgan.” Roche could hear the elation in the ex-captain’s voice. After days of running and hiding, the prospect of action had Uri barely able to contain his excitement.

Roche studied the views before her. The station gunners were concentrating on the prowling mines—not surprising considering their mass. If just one of them rammed, the battle would effectively be over. Roche had no intention of doing this, but the station gunners weren’t to know that.

“Your shields are holding?”

“They’re doing okay,” reported Kajic. “I’m displaying signs of damage in order to preserve the illusion.”

“Could you also feign disablement?”

“Shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Then do so after the next particularly heavy battery. Don’t head for the station, though; tumble so you’d miss. That way they should leave you alone. As soon as the shields are back to full strength, join the battle properly.”

“Understood.”

Roche steadied herself as the courier rolled beneath her. They were well back from the frontline, but close enough to catch the occasional stray shot. The makeshift E-shields and disrupters the Box had installed were bearing up well, much to her relief. They were going to need them once she decided to make her move.

The outriggers were close enough to take potshots at the A-P cannons scattered over the station’s exterior surfaces. Their voices sang through her in a fugue similar to the Plenary she had witnessed, but without its innate sense of order. In among the battle calls was the Auditor herself, her calming voice keeping everything under relative control.

 

^25-26Watch out! Watch out!

³¹Covered. Keep an eye on that second gunner!

___Groups 4-9 and 17-26 pull back and down.

___Flank support required.

^17-22We have a positive on feeder placement in sectors blue and yellow.

^9-13How long until hull integrity is compromised?

^17-22Five minutes. Can you hold out that long?

^9-13We’11 have to, I guess.

___Shields are falling in orange sector:

___All available fire to concentrate here.

___The cannon are vulnerable.

⁴⁵Damn!

³³You okay?

⁴⁵Singed. This is just like stripping JA-32!

³³And we know what happened there, don’t we?

___Concentrate, people.

___We have company.

 

Singleships spilled out of docking bays from all over the station, scattering the outriggers on a wave of returned fire.

 

___Hold formation!

___Don’t turn your back unless you want to be shot in it!

 

<Box!> Roche called. <Send in the drones !>

From the nooks and crannies of the prowling mines came every independent craft Roche had been able to lay her hands on. Mass-throwers, impact probes, and remote instruments of every description converged on the station.

“Byrne! Tell your people to be careful. It’s going to get messy in there!”

 

___Retract all antennae!

___Incoming debris!

 

The space around the station became thick with energy and matter. A wild variety of thrusters—some as small as a fingernail—flashed and burned; accurate shots sent fragments and dust flying in all directions; laser beams were absorbed or deflected in crazy patterns. Through it all moved the singleships and outriggers, with Daybreak close by. And behind them all came the prowling mines, still lumbering on and laboring under the concentrated fire from the station’s artillery.

The Ana Vereine took a volley of shots to its flank and went into a slow roll. Roche nodded in satisfaction. It would be ready to attack in a few minutes.

“Take us closer,” she instructed Haid.

 

³⁴Be careful!

³⁸I am. It’s just...

³⁴Laird? Goddamn! I need reinforcements!

^5-7Hold on. We’re coming!

___Let the drones and teleop teams go in first.

___And watch out for pincer attacks.

___I want live fighters: you aren’t any good to me dead!

 

“Look at them,” said Haid, watching a similar view to Roche’s on a bridge monitor. The singleships swooped and parried, pairs targeting lone outriggers and dispatching them first, then trying to break up larger groups. “They’re Kesh pilots,” he said. “I’ve seen them fight like that before.”

“Efficient, aren’t they?” Disisto commented emotionlessly from behind them.

“They’d never fight like that against their own kind,” said Haid.

 

²⁷Hull breach in orange sector!

³⁸Concentrate your fire. Hurt them! Hurt them!

___Group 31-34. stay back.

___That tower’s about to blow!

⁸Lud? Are you still with us?

¹⁴Barely... Pressure’s dropping.

⁸Withdraw! We can handle it from here.

 

“Byrne,” said Roche. “Tell the wounded or damaged to fall back. We’re about to move in.”

 

___Expect reinforcement soon.

___Fall back on my command.

___Injured and compromised first.

___I want everyone else to remain for the second wave.

 

“You hear that, Uri?”

“Yes, Morgan.” Kajic’s voice came from the bridge speakers. “We will break cover in twenty seconds.”

“Okay, good. We’re relying on you to watch our back. And keep an eye on Yarrow, if you can.” As Roche had expected, the Wide Berth survivor hadn’t taken the option to hide in the hold of the Ana Vereine. “Ameidio, full thrust as soon as the Ana Vereine is exposed. We go in under its covering fire.”

“You got it.” Almost imperceptibly, the pilot stiffened at the controls of the courier.

“I guess this is it,” Mavalhin muttered nervously.

“It sure is, Myer,” Roche said, “And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you, when I tell you.” She kept her attention on the image of the disguised Ana Vereine as she spoke. Suddenly the appearance of the crippled prowling mine shimmered, then vanished altogether. In its place was now the Marauder, its many prongs lit up against the black sky by its own blazing weapons.

“Hold on everyone!” Haid pushed the courier forward and into the melee. Singleships dodged and weaved to avoid the energy weapons bombarding them from all directions. Two fell instantly; seconds later, another. The station’s cannon turned to bear on the swooping ship and Daybreak aimed into the gap.

The freight transfer point was located near the R painted on the side of the station, halfway between the nominal top and the docking equator. Haid looped once around the station, then veered in closer. The wreckage became noticeably thicker. Heavy clangs announced impacts with pieces large enough to penetrate the shields; near misses dissipated with bright flashes of energy.

A recessed gantry appeared before them.

“That’s it,” Mavalhin said.

Outrigger fire had scarred much of the area around the gantry, aiming for surveillance equipment and anti-intrusion emplacements. The area looked secure. There was just enough room in the docking space to hide the courier.

“Take us in, Ameidio,” said Roche. “Byrne, we’re there!”

 

___All except teleop groups—

___withdraw!

 

Haid brought the courier close enough for grapnels to hook onto. Roche glanced up at the sky. As some of the outriggers fell back, the Ana Vereine stepped up the attack on the singleships. At the same time, the prowling mines had approached to what must have been uncomfortably close proximity for those aboard Galine Four. With so many threats harrying the station, she hoped to be able to dock the ship relatively unnoticed.

<Box, are you back in the outer security system?>

<Getting there. They have changed the codes, but these won’t take long to bypass. I expect to have access to internal communications within ninety seconds. Once I have that, I will be able to delay security in this area should they attempt to move in.>

Roche grunted her understanding. She braced herself as the courier clanged home, then stood up. Haid secured the console, then also rose. The four drone suits stirred.

“Let’s go,” Roche said to Disisto and Mavalhin. “I want your voice transmissions kept to a minimum.”

They filed back to the airlock as pumps evacuated the entire ship. The inner door was already open when they reached it. Part of her hoped they would encounter some form of resistance; another part of her prayed they wouldn’t.

The outer door hissed open at their approach. Roche went first, hands extended, weapons and sensors in her gloves scanning the gantry. It was clear. She removed a rifle from its back holster and stood aside.

The others followed. One of the drones placed cutting equipment against the corroded seals Mavalhin had mentioned and began blasting. The metal parted like melting cheese. Radiation warnings pinged in Roche’s chest, but they weren’t urgent enough to require her to step away.

Above them, the sky continued to boil.

One of the suits—she had already lost track of which were drones and which weren’t—stepped toward her and touched her shoulder.

READING ME? asked Haid.

<Yes,> she sent back. <Hold still.> She activated the laser on her left glove and burned a black line on the seamless chest of his suit. Stepping back, she did the same to herself.

<Now we’ll know who’s who.>

The remains of the gantry door swung silently aside.

<After you.>

Stepping past the drones and over the still-glowing edge of the gantry door, Haid led the way into the station. The others followed, with Roche and two of the drones taking up the rear.

The freight transfer deck was spacious but empty. Nevertheless, Roche kept alert for any sign that they had been spotted.

<I have you on visual,> said the Box. <All automatic security alerts have been disabled. The area is deserted. You are free to move>

<I hope you know what you’re talking about, Box.>

<I always do, Morgan.> She couldn’t tell if it was meant as a joke or not. <I will dispatch two of the drones to seek out the data you require. This will save time.>

Roche frowned; they hadn’t planned it that way. <Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want you to overextend yourself, what with the empty all-suits and—>

<I am not overextended, Morgan. I will let you know the moment that unlikely event should arise.>

She wasn’t reassured. The Box sounded as if it was enjoying itself. At times like these, she had learned to be worried.

<Okay, but I want a direct visual from one of the suits.> At least that way she could check on what they were up to without having to ask the Box.

She checked a moment later to make sure it had been done: through the sensors of the drone immediately behind her, she saw herself wave an arm.

Turning to the others, Roche motioned them forward. The maps she’d acquired on her first visit to the station indicated the exit she wanted. As they approached, the door slid open. They moved off along the passageway, pressure doors opening and closing smoothly as they passed. At the second intersection they came to, two of the drones turned right. Haid automatically went to follow.

<No, this way.> She touched his wrist <We turn at the next intersection.>

BUT—

<I’ll explain later.>

While she didn’t know precisely where Cane and Maii were being held, it seemed likely they would be in one of the two holding pens indicated on the station’s maps. They were located midway between the outer hull and Galine Four’s centralmost chamber, but on opposite sides of the station. The closest wasn’t far from where they were, so it was to this one they headed. Roche silently prayed it was the right one.

At the end of the corridor were two freight elevators waiting to take them deep into the station’s infrastructure. As the heavy doors slid aside, a rumble echoed through the floors and walls.

<Box? What’s going on out there?>

<Daybreak has been spotted. Hold while I concentrate.>

Roche stepped into the elevator and steadied herself. Having a moment to spare while the cage dropped, she reconnected herself to the battle outside.

 

¹⁷Get the ship!

___It’s too late! Fall back!

³⁸We can’t let them take it!

¹⁸Yarrow! Don’t—

¹⁷What the hell is he doing?

²⁵He’s going to mine it!

___Clear the area!

___Now!

 

Through the senses of the courier Roche saw a singleship loom close. The sky beyond was thick with crossfire. Into the web of energy came the black shape of Yarrow’s battle-scarred all-suit, a magnetic mine in one extended manipulator. Watching the speed and precision with which he moved, Roche couldn’t help but think of Cane. The obvious comparison left her with mixed feelings, the strongest of which was fear.

The singleship turned to defend itself, but it wasn’t Yarrow’s target. He dived straight toward Daybreak and pressed the mine onto its hull. Then he moved away, heading low and close to the hull to maximize the amount of mass between him and the explosion.

When it came, the view from the courier blacked out instantly. The last thing Roche saw was the singleship realizing what had happened and trying too late to get away.

A heavy thud made the floor beneath jump. From the Ana Vereine’s point of view, Roche watched as a blue-white hemisphere suddenly blossomed from the side of the station, then disappeared, leaving blackened ruin in its wake.

Another deep rumble echoed through the station. Haid’s suit whined softly as he staggered.

“What the hell was that?” His voice came from internal speakers this time. “One of the prowlers?”

“A mine. They found Daybreak. Yarrow destroyed it, and the entrance.”

“Is he crazy?”

“It actually makes sense,” said Roche. “This way they won’t be able to work out how many of us were in the ship—nor can they follow us in. They don’t even know if we got in at all. It’s a mess up there.”

“It still leaves us trapped, though!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find a way out.”

The elevator slowed to a halt, but the doors didn’t open.

<There is a security presence outside,> said the Box.

<Show me.> A new window in Roche’s field of view opened, revealing two guards maintaining watch at the end of the corridor. They were armed, but not heavily armored. When a siren began to wail, they became instantly more alert.

<What’s going on now, Box?>

<They have confirmation that you are in the station.>

<How is that possible? I thought you had everything locked down.>

<There must be something I’ve overlooked,> said the Box. <According to the low-level security dispatches I am monitoring, it seems they know you are on board, but they don’t know precisely where—or even if you are alone.>

<Well, that’s something. But I can’t hide in here all day.> She checked her map. <We’re on the right level. The security compound is two corridors over.> To the others she said: “We have a couple of guards outside. Is everyone ready?”

“You’re really going through with this?” asked Disisto.

“I have no choice. You and Myer keep your heads down and follow me.” She studied the view of the security guards. Their weapons looked like standard issue; her armor would absorb it easily, but Disisto and Mavalhin would not be so well protected.

<Box, send one of the drones in with me first. We have to prevent them from sounding the alarm. Ameidio, you come last, but before Myer and Disisto. I don’t want them hurt.>

His hand touched her upper arm. GOT IT.

<At the end of the corridor, we go right> She took a deep breath. <On my mark. Go!>

The drone moved out as soon as the elevator door opened, with Roche stepping past it to its left. The drone raised its rifle and fired a single sharp burst before the guards had a chance to react. One guard fell. Roche was a split-second behind; her shot caught the second guard in the shoulder, spinning him around and into the wall. He slid down to the floor and didn’t move. Two down, she thought.

The pitch of the alarms didn’t change.

<Any more?> she asked the Box.

<Two more to the left, another five in a guardroom closer to the compound itself. Beyond that is a black zone I cannot penetrate.>

<Is it likely we’ll find anything in there?>

<There’s only one way to find out, Morgan.>

<And in doing so, we expose ourselves. Okay.> She touched Haid’s shoulder. <Two to the left. You take a drone and deal with them, then catch up. We have a nest of five just ahead.>

OKAY.

He edged up to the corner, with one of the drones close behind. Once he had rounded it, Roche headed off along the passageway, with the two captives and the other drone behind. So far Disisto and Mavalhin had shown nothing but cooperation, but she couldn’t afford to relax. She would feel easier once Haid caught up with them again.

She had almost reached the guardroom when two sharp retorts rang out along the corridor; then a third. The response was immediate: voices and movement came from ahead of her. Instinctively she selected a subsonic from the suit’s array of weaponry and stepped around the corner into the guardroom itself.

Two of the guards were fully equipped and ready for action while the others were still in the process of fitting armor and weapons. None of the armor was powered, and the blast of low-frequency sound caught them by surprise. One keeled over backwards; another doubled over vomiting; the others clutched their heads in pain.

The drone moved forward, its raised gun taking out a guard with a single shot to the chest.

<No, Box! Don’t kill them. Just knock them out.>

The drone immediately flipped the rifle and used the butt to club the remaining four unconscious.

A hand touched Roche’s shoulder: MESSY, said Haid.

<Could have been a lot worse.> she replied, looking down at the dead body.

A corridor on the far side led into the black zone.

<Ameidio,> Roche said. <Wait here with these two and a drone. I’m going to have a look around on my own.> Before Haid could protest, she explained: <The Box can’t stop them looking into the black zone. If they do, they’ll think there’s only two of us. And I’ll have you to cover my back.>

OKAY. SHOUT IF YOU NEED BACKUP.

“Wait,” said Mavalhin as Roche stepped forward.

She turned. “What?”

“I know this area,” said the pilot. Then in response to Roche’s quizzical expression, he explained: “I’ve, ah, spent some time here in the past.”

“Well-deserved too, if I recall,” muttered Disisto.

Mavalhin shot the security chief a sharp look. “I paid all the money back!”

“Eventually, and only because—”

“I haven’t got time for this!” Roche’s bellow startled them both to silence. It had been effective, but she hoped her voice hadn’t carried too far. “Myer, you come with me. I’m looking for maximum security cells, possibly with medical facilities.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Roche’s laugh was brief and humorless. “I don’t think so,” she said. “If I’m going to be led into a trap, I’m making sure you’re right there in front of me, Myer.”

“Were you always this suspicious, Morgan?”

“Just move it.”

He swallowed under her glare. “Okay. This way, I think.”

She followed him into the black zone, down a corridor that looked no different from any of the others they had traversed. They passed several closed doors, but none of them looked secure enough to be cells, and Mavalhin didn’t stop.

Their movements were cautious and relatively quiet, and there had been no signs of any other guards. Nevertheless,

Roche remained tense and uneasy. She knew that setting off just one internal alarm would change everything      

“Here.” Mavalhin pointed through a closed transparent door.

Roche peered in and saw steel-gray bulkheads, six down each side of a wide corridor. Everything about them said high security to her.

There was a panel by the side of the door. <Box, do you think—?>

<Place your suit’s left palm-link within range.>

She did so. <Can you break into the system from here?>

<No. This is just an isolated lock. It does give some interesting codes and passwords, though.>

The door clicked and hissed slowly open. Roche nudged Mavalhin ahead of her. The first door on her left had a transparent panel at eye level. She peered through it, but saw nothing except for featureless walls and floor. The cell was empty.

So was the one opposite, and the next one along. All twelve, in fact, turned out to be empty.

“Are these the only cells here, Myer?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “At least they’re the only ones I ever saw down here.” He led her out of the corridor. “See, there’s a dead end, and that leads to the way we came.”

“Damn.” She cursed their luck, but quickly regained her composure. She needed to stay focused. “Okay, then. It’s back the way we came.” To the Box she said: <Get another elevator ready for us. This is going to be awkward. We need to go down two levels and across to the other side of the station.>

<Working on it now, Morgan.> When they got back to the others, Roche found that Haid had taken the time to bind the four unconscious guards. Their absence, along with that of their dead comrades, would inevitably provoke some concern, but for now it afforded them a little breathing space.

Disisto looked worried when she walked into the room, which surprised her. If anything, she would have expected him to have been relieved to see her empty-handed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head. “When do I get to talk to the chief?”

“Later,” she said, shepherding him and Mavalhin ahead of her. “Just keep moving.”

Back in the elevator, Roche checked the status of the battle outside. The all-suits had retreated entirely, apart from a few of those teleoperated by the Box or the outriggers aboard the Ana Vereine. Casualties were higher than Roche would have liked. They were down to forty fully functioning all-suits, while the station had lost just ten singleships. Half of the prowling mines had been disabled and their hulks were drifting steadily away from the battle. The Ana Vereine had also pulled back, as though reassessing its options, and conducted only the occasional raid on the station.

There was little point in maintaining the illusion that the attack had merely paused and would begin again at any moment. Rufo and the Kesh somehow knew that she was inside. And when the attack resumed, they would know that she was preparing to leave.

<Morgan,> said the Box, <we have a blip on the long-range scanners. Precisely on schedule.>

She acknowledged the news with merely a grunt. Time was definitely running out.

“Do you know the other security compound at all?” she asked Mavalhin.

The pilot shook his head. Even through his suit’s helmet she could see the sweat trickling down his face. “Sorry, Morgan.”

The elevator stopped and they disembarked once the Box had assured them the area was clear. The AI had a transit cab waiting for them at the nearest tube entrance. They filed inside, and were rapidly whisked around the equator of the station’s inner perimeter. At the other end, they found another elevator and went down several levels.

“I think I should try to get in contact with someone,” said Disisto.

“Only when we’ve got nothing to bargain with.”

“You haven’t anything now!” he shot back. “You’re not exactly doing that great out there.”

“We’re doing all right,” she said.

“You could at least try.”

She turned to face him. He looked worse than Mavalhin. “Why? We’ve got this far without bargaining.”

He didn’t answer.

Doubt suddenly flooded through her. “It’s been too easy, hasn’t it? That’s what’s worrying you...”

Still he said nothing.

The elevator was two floors away from stopping.

<Box, drop us at the floor above the one we need.>

The cab decelerated suddenly. The map showed a maze of corridors at that level; a maintenance and storage floor that promised to be mostly empty.

<Can you knock out security on this level?>

<Already done, Morgan.>

<And make it look like the elevator has kept going?>

<Naturally,> the AI said. <I have also taken the liberty of preparing a diversion, should it be required.>

Roche belatedly remembered the other two drones. She quickly checked through the vision of the one the Box had allocated her, but saw only darkness on most frequencies except infrared, which revealed a dull background of heat. It was almost as though the drone had its faceplate pressed up against something warm. She didn’t have time to work it out, so closed the window to the drone’s viewpoint.

“This way,” said Roche as she exited the elevator. She led them along a winding corridor, keeping one eye on where she was going and the other on the map. Superimposing the two levels was confusing; she relied heavily on the Box to warn her if they were about to run into company. But soon they were where she wanted to be: below their feet, separated by only a meter of decking, was the other black zone.

“This isn’t going to be subtle,” she said to Disisto. “If you have any suggestions on how to minimize possible loss of life, tell me now.”

The security chief warred with himself for a moment, then said: “The closer you get to the middle, the safer it will be. But stay out of the exact center. That would be dangerous.”

When she realized he wasn’t going to provide any more detail, Roche concentrated on finding an appropriate place. She had no way of knowing what they would be going into; she wanted somewhere away from a bulkhead with an enclosed space above it. All she could do was look for the latter in about the right place and hope for the former.

She found a storage hold that looked about right, and with the help of one of the drones began laying charges in the floor. The charges weren’t as precise as she would’ve liked, and their entrance would be all too dramatic, but it was the best she could think of under the circumstances.

When she was ready, she cleared the room. The Box closed the door behind her.

“Five seconds,” she said. “The drones go first, then we all follow. I’ll go last. And remember this,” she added to Disisto and Mavalhin: “One, the longer we’re here, the more likely it is we’ll be trapped; and two, I’m holding a gun to your backs, and I have no intention of allowing you to slow us down.”

There wasn’t time for either captive to acknowledge her: the charges went off with a force that made even her suit lose its balance. The door came off its tracks, and by the time she was upright again the drones were already pulling it free. On the other side, most of the floor of the room had dropped away in a ragged circular slab, tilted where a wall cut a chord across it from underneath. Smoke and dust filled the air. The drones half-dropped, half-slid down the slab and fired at something she couldn’t see. Roche heard someone call out, but they were abruptly cut short. Somewhere close by, another siren began to wail.

Haid followed the drones. Roche shoved her reluctant captives ahead of her, then followed herself.

She landed on a pile of rubble in the middle of a giant open-space area. Wrecked consoles and desks lay scattered for tens of meters around them; fire burned in carpet that had once been grass-green. Oddly placed panels broke the space into discretely semidetached segments. From behind one such panel, someone was offering resistance and calling for help. The drones ignored that one voice for the moment, concentrating instead on picking out cameras and other security placements throughout the place, disabling them with single, precise shots.

As Roche took her bearings, a door opened in a distant wall and a squad of security guards ran in.

She dropped to one knee and fired. The squad ducked for cover, turning over furniture and scrambling for the nearest panels. Return fire crackled back at her, whining as it ricocheted off her armor. The drones and Haid backed her up from behind the cover of the slab they had ducked behind.

“Which way?” shouted Haid.

Roche glanced around her. The wall through which the guards had entered was curved, as was the wall behind the slab, suggesting that the space was circular, enclosing them. The guards had been on the outer wall, so what they were protecting was farther in.

The inner wall was not far away, near enough for a quick dash. There was a door within sight.

“There!” she shouted, pointing.

“What if it doesn’t open?” Haid called back.

She used the suit’s sensors to zoom closer for a better view. The door was almost flush to the wall, and there didn’t seem to be any way to open it.

“It’ll have to,” she said. “Cover me.”

She shouldered her rifle and darted across the gap.

She had barely reached halfway across when the door opened from the other side, revealing Shak’ni and Haden B’shan. Both Kesh officers were dressed in full battle uniform and holding ceremonial—though clearly functional—weapons.

She didn’t know who was more startled, the Kesh or her. All three lifted their weapons simultaneously, but Shak’ni got in the first shot, catching Roche in the thigh. Her suit shrieked but absorbed the blow.

Her stomach twisted in panic. Kesh weapons were a higher gauge than the ones her suit was designed to withstand. A handful of shots were all it would take—maybe as few as three. But that might be all she needed...

She called up the menu on her rifle as a second shot from Shak’ni hit her in the visor. She blinked but managed to select the options she required. B’shan went for her knees, and made her stagger. She aimed the rifle and fired just as Shak’ni caught her a third time, in the chest, knocking her backwards and off her feet.

Aimed up and between the two Kesh warriors, the percussion charge struck the ceiling just inside the door and exploded violently, tearing another hole in the already damaged ceiling. Half of the door went with it, along with B’shan and Shak’ni.

Roche rolled out of the shock wave and was on her feet before anyone else had recovered. Her ears rang and the suit seemed a little stiff, but she was otherwise unharmed. The two Kesh stirred weakly some distance from what remained of the door. Haid and the others were already moving.

More guards appeared off to the left, hugging the curve of the wall.

“Okay, Disisto!” she shouted as she pushed him ahead of her into the ruined doorway. “Now you can talk to them!”

“Very funny, Roche!” he called back over his shoulder.

She fired another percussion charge into the floor behind them, hoping its partial collapse would delay pursuit for a moment or two. She could already hear Shak’ni bellowing for assistance.

“I’m serious, Disisto,” she said. “I need you to stay here and tell them what I want. This is your one and only chance to mediate. But I suggest you think fast about what you’re going to say, because Shak’ni won’t be in the mood for listening.”

Disisto looked sick with worry, but Roche didn’t have time to concern herself with that at the moment. Haid had already gone through the inner door with Mavalhin and one of the drones, leaving her to follow. The most she could do was leave him a drone for support.

“Box, do your best to keep him alive, will you?” She patted Disisto roughly on the shoulder. “Good luck,” she said, meaning it, then ducked through the doorway after the others.

There was a palm-lock on the far side, which the Box made short work of, shutting the door on the sounds of the weapons from outside. Roche heard Disisto offer a wry “Thanks” before the door slammed shut.

Then silence.

Only then did she really take the time to look around.

She was in a corridor that curved away uninterrupted in either direction. There seemed to be no one about, and no doors. There was no sign of the others through the lingering smoke and dust, and for a moment she felt panic.

MORGAN, IS THAT YOU? There was no point hiding transmissions anymore.

<Haid? Where are you?>

HEAD TO YOUR LEFT. I THINK WE’VE FOUND WHAT WE’RE LOOKING FOR.

<Good. I’m on my way>

The corridor led her to an antechamber barely large enough for the four of them. Two consoles faced away from the way she’d come in, next to a door that looked solid enough to stop a hydraulic ram. Each of the consoles monitored two cells, making four in all.

Haid was fiddling at one of the consoles, while the drone gave the Box access to the other. Mavalhin kept carefully out of the way.

“We seem to have three immobilized prisoners,” said Haid. “One was brought here within the last few hours.”

“That would make sense,” said Roche, “especially if they thought we were coming. It would be easier to defend one area rather than two.”

“So I thought. But the security is tight here. I can’t tell which cell is which. And I can’t get this damned door open, either.”

“Box?”

The AI’s voice issued from the drone’s speakers: “There is a second entry point which must be accessed simultaneously.”

Roche looked around her, then back the way she had come. “What was to the right of the entrance?”

“Another room like this one,” Haid said. “Do you want me to—?”

“No, I’ll go. Just tell me what I need to do when I get there.”

She headed off along the corridor, past the door leading back to where she had left Disisto. Curious, she quickly switched over to the drone’s senses to check what was happening.

The image was poor and breaking up, and the drone itself seemed to be lying on the ground with its head to one side. But Roche was able to make out Shak’ni, along with the dirty black mark marring the harsh perfection of the field officer’s combat armor. He was holding Disisto by the throat with one hand; the other hand held a rifle to the security chief’s head. Disisto’s eyes were closed and he was talking furiously. Roche couldn’t make out what he was saying, however, as the drone was transmitting visual data only.

B’shan stepped out of the background and said something to Shak’ni. The field officer threw Disisto to the floor, then lowered his rifle and fired at the drone. The transmission abruptly ceased.

The sound of gunfire followed her as she raced to the other control room.

It was a mirror image of the one she had just left.

<Okay, I’m here,> she said.

<Take the left console,> said the Box. She did so. <It’s all manual. Key in the following instruction: Bulkhead Release 947. The system will request a password. Type: “Driftglass.” You should be seeing a countdown now.>

<Yes.>

<When it reaches zero, hit the green button at the top right of the console. I’ll do the same at the other end.>

She waited for the numbers to scroll down from ten, pressing the button impatiently the precise moment the display reached zero. A warning Klaxon sounded and the door opened with a grinding sound. She grabbed her rifle and approached cautiously.

All she saw was another corridor, curving away to her left.

<Careful,> she said to Haid. <I can’t make out anything from here. Send the drone first, then Myer.>

Two doors appeared, one each to her left and right. They were both closed. <Box, can you open the internal doors from here?>

Both doors hissed open. Each was comprised of two panels: the outer panel slid aside; the inner one rose up into the ceiling. There was no way to look into one cell without exposing herself to the other. Roche mentally tossed a coin and stepped forward.

The cell on her right was empty, little more than a four-meter-square space. In its center was a stainless-steel bed uncomfortably reminiscent of an autopsy slab. She snap-turned and aimed her gun into the second cell.

It too was empty.

That left two cells, but there were still three prisoners.

She remembered that Galine Four security knew where she was, not the others.

<Ameidio, this is our chance. You’re coming up on them from behind. I want you to—>

MORGAN, Haid interrupted. THEY HAVE MAII!

<Box, let me see> She jumped to the other drone’s senses.

She saw the young Surin reave strapped to one of the steel “beds.” A Kesh guard stood beside her, a pistol pressed firmly to her forehead. The girl seemed oblivious to what was going on around her.

Roche hissed through her teeth. If they hurt her—

“Give up, Roche!” called a voice. “You’re surrounded!”

She didn’t grace the speaker with a reply. The drone turned its head. There were more guards in the room. All held their guns on Haid, the drone, and Mavalhin. If she ordered Haid to attack, he would probably win—but not in time to save Maii.

There had to be another way...

<Box, I think we could use that diversion about now.>

<Yes, Morgan.>

<Just give me a minute to get myself in position, then I’ll give you the word.>

<I will ensure that your suit is ready.>

Roche was about to ask the Box what it was readying her for, when another voice spoke softly into her mind.

<Morgan?>

<Maii? Is that you?>

<Morgan, look...>

Maii’s voice was little more than a whisper, and through the drone’s eyes she looked completely unconscious. But as Roche stared at her, she saw the index finger on the girl’s left hand move. She was pointing!

Roche tried to extrapolate the layout of the room, given what the others had looked like. Maii was pointing out the door. Out the door and to the cell opposite—presumably to where the other two prisoners were held.

“You have five seconds, Roche,” called the Kesh guard. “Then she dies. Five.”

<Okay, Box,> she said. <Tell Uri and Byrne to resume the attack. Blow the piles on the prowlers; send in more of the nano breeders to eat the hull. Hit them with everything we’ve got, and make sure they hurt. Let’s not make it too easy for them.>

“Four.”

The sound of footsteps in the control room she had just left echoed up the corridor. <And if you can close the doors behind me, do it.>

The door slammed shut. <I have taken the liberty of closing both, Morgan.>

<Good. Ameidio, are you hearing this?>

YES.

“Three.”

She inched as far as she dared around the corridor and clutched her rifle to her chest.

“Two.”

<Okay, Box. Now!>

The lights went out. Her suit and implants switched automatically to infrared. Then the floor fell out from underneath her—and kept falling.

She clutched for balance, but her suit had already adjusted. The Box must have hit the artificial gravity generators somehow. When some sense of weight returned, it was at half- strength—enough to enable her to run around the corner and to the second cell.

The door was shut; she fired the rifle at it. Gunshots came likewise from the cell containing Maii, followed by the sound of someone hissing in pain. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. All she could do was hope that Maii hadn’t been hurt.

The cell door juddered open a crack, and she used the suit’s strength to lever it the rest of the way. Inside—

She hesitated for a split second.

—inside were two bodies. One belonged to Cane. He was naked and encased entirely in a slab of what looked like clear amber which was in turn bolted to a mobile platform. Wires and tubes were threaded through the transparent material, but there was clearly no way he could talk or move. Metal straps around the amber block further ensured his imprisonment.

His eyes were shut, but somehow Roche knew that he was awake, and possibly even aware of her presence.

The other body belonged to something far from Pristine. It looked vaguely Olmahoi, but unlike any she had ever seen. Its black skin was shiny and abraded, its limbs thin, almost vestigial, its body was hunched, its face featureless and pinched. The only vital element to the entire creature was its epsense organ—a thick tentacle sprouting from the back of its skull. But where most Olmahoi epsense organs were rarely as thick as a normal wrist, this one was thighlike in width—fat and almost a meter and a half long, throbbing with vitality, almost as if it were sucking the life out of the creature attached to it. Roche could see where needles and other instruments penetrated its flesh, supplying nutrients or performing other mysterious tasks.

The creature lay on a bed like Maii’s. It was bound, but not firmly. It seemed to Roche that it didn’t need to be. She doubted it could even have walked, let alone run away.

There was a monitor behind it. On it flashed a single word:

: BEWARE

<The irikeii!> Roche had never heard the Box sound surprised before.

<The what?>

CLEAR, transmitted Haid from behind her.

Distracted, she turned. <And Maii?>

UNHARMED.

<I have Cane. He—>

She grunted as someone pushed past her.

“Sorry, Morgan,” said the Box via the drone. “But I must get through.”

Roche faced the drone across the body of the Olmahoi creature. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I am administering Xarodine,” explained the Box as the drone injected something into the base of the Olmahoi’s skull. “There were doses in Maii’s cell, naturally.”

The creature twitched, and the word on the screen changed to:

: CRUEL

“Why, Box?”

“Xarodine is an epsense-inhibitor.”

“I know that, but—”

“Give me a moment, Morgan.”

A muffled explosion from farther up the hallway reminded her of Shak’ni and the rest of the guards.

“I don’t have a moment, Box.”

She rushed out of the cell. Haid was already there. The sound of pounding came from both ends of the corridor.

WE’RE TRAPPED.

“Any suggestions, Myer?” she called into Maii’s cell, “Myer?” Maii was still on the table, although her bonds had been removed. The guards and their weapons lay scattered across the floor. But the pilot was gone.

“He was here a moment ago,” Haid said, dispensing with his implants. “He must have snuck out while I was busy with Maii.”

“Damn him!”

“Do we go after him?”

Roche sighed. “We haven’t got time. Besides, we don’t even know which way he’s gone.” She made a mental note to be sure that Myer paid for this at a later date. “Our only chance is to bust out before they’re ready. Take them off-guard. One of us will have to carry Maii; maybe we can use the guards’ armor to protect her.”

“What about Cane?”

She cursed Myer again. “He’ll have to wait. He looks safe enough as he is.” She went back into Maii’s cell and bent to strip one of the dead guards. <Box, when I give the word I want you to open the right-hand door only, okay?>

<Okay, Morgan.> Her helmeted head brushed Maii’s.

<Is that you, Morgan?>

Roche laid a gloved hand on Maii’s arm. <I’m right next to you, Maii.>

<It’s clearing; I can see again! What happened to the irikeii?>

<The irikeii?> Remembering what the Box had called the Olmahoi, she dashed into the other cell. The drone was bent over the hunched figure on the bed. The word on the screen now read:

: ONE

<Box, what have you done?>

<Set Maii free. I suggest you use her while you can.>

Another explosion sounded up the corridor just as the word changed to:

: COMES

Then Roche was embraced by the young reave’s excited mind. <Morgan! I can read you! I can read you!>

<Maii, listen to me: we’re in serious trouble here.>

More calmly the girl said: <I know. What can I do to help?>

<Somewhere near here you’ll find Shak’ni and B’shan.> Roche felt guilty for pushing the girl so soon, but right now she was their best chance of getting out of there alive. <I want you to knock them out, and anyone with them. Can you do that? Can you reach that far?>

There was a pause before she replied: <I can feel them.>

<Good. Don’t kill them; just knock them out.>

<Okay. Give me a second to get my bearings...>

Roche checked the charges on her rifle; enough for a while yet. The sounds from the ends of the corridor died down, and she assumed the reave had already begun to work.

Then Maii said: <What does it mean when the destroyer you’ve been waiting for is right on top of us and ordering us to surrender?>

A chill went through Roche. <Box?>

<I was just about to tell you, Morgan. The Sebettu has completed its final approach. It will be within firing range in twenty minutes. Its senior officer has issued a message.>

The recording came through her implants:

 

AGGRESSORS IN THE VICINITY OF GALINE FOUR: DESIST IMMEDIATELY OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES. WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO USE LETHAL FORCE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

 

That was why the guards had stopped pounding at the doors: they knew they’d won. All they had to do now was wait her out.

<Uri? How are you holding out there?>

<We are continuing to harry the station, Morgan,> replied Kajic. <In an hour or two we would’ve mopped up the last of the singleships.>

<How do you rate your chances against a Kesh destroyer?>

<Poor,> he admitted. <We could get away, but we’d have no chance of taking it out.>

<Then tell Byrne to get her people the hell away. The Kesh will squash them like bugs.>

<I’ll relay your message now,> the ex-captain said. <What would you like me to do?>

She paused. The words burned in her throat. <Get ready to stand down. We’re going to surrender.>

<I have a transmission from Field Officer Shak’ni,> said the Box. <It’s being broadcast on the outer security level.>

<Play it.>

It was brief: “Come out, Roche, or we will destroy you.”

ARE WE REALLY GOING TO SURRENDER? asked Haid.

<We haven’t a choice with that destroyer there,> She switched the rifle to standby. <Box, tell him he’s won. We’ll come out peacefully. Just give us a minute.>

She went into the cell and squatted next to Maii. <Will you be okay?>

The reave’s expression was closed. <Yes.>

<You know what I’m thinking?>

<Yes.>

<I’m sorry.>

<Don’t be, Morgan.>

<Shak’ni will accept our surrender under some conditions,> the Box said.

<And they are?>

The Kesh officer’s voice told her himself: “You, Morgan Roche, and your party will submit to the authority of interim peacemaker Field Officer Shak’ni. All hostilities directed against Galine Four and Linegar Rufo will cease. The Ana Vereine will dock with Galine Four and allow Lieutenant Haden B’shan to assume control. All internal systems—including that of Uri Kajic—will become the property of the N’Kor Republic. The Surin reave will be sedated and undergo further Xarodine therapy. The AI you refer to as ‘the Box,’ serial number JW11110101110, will be ejected from the ship immediately. Any transmissions from said AI will be regarded as a violation of this agreement and as such will incur a penalty: the immediate execution of one of your party, starting with the Surin girl. Further transmissions will result in similar penalties. Do we understand each other?”

Roche didn’t answer immediately. She stared at the knotted scar tissue where Maii’s eyes had once been. She felt very tired.

<Do you have a backup, Box?>

<Software can be replicated, Morgan, but hardware cannot.>

<And you’re prepared to take the risk that they might just blow you out of the sky?>

<If you recall, I am graded to withstand a—>

<—a nuclear strike from a hundred meters,> she finished for the AI. She smiled, despite herself. <I can take that as a yes?>

<You can.>

<Then tell Shak’ni I agree.>

She stood and walked down the corridor, the way she had come. There she found Mavalhin cowering against the door. He started when he saw her, and wouldn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t care.

<Is everything ready, Box?>

<It is.>

<Then let’s get this over with. Open the door.>

 

* * *

 

Outside the station, an airlock opened on the side of the Ana Vereine. A small black valise shot out of it and tumbled in the vague direction of Hintubet. The sun’s reddish glow was exacerbated by the hastening collapse of the Gauntlet, but it was still barely bright enough to paint a dull sheen on the battered case.

Roche watched through the Ana Vereine’s sensors as a Kesh singleship scooped the valise up with a pair of remote manipulators and took it aboard the Sebettu. So distracted was she by the view that the Kesh guard escorting her had to prod her roughly in the bare shoulder with a rifle butt to get her moving faster.

She winced and rubbed the new bruise he had given her. Her capture had been inglorious enough without being made to strip off her armor in front of everyone. Dressed only in her sweaty undersuit and handcuffs, she felt completely naked. That Haid, Disisto, and Mavalhin had been treated similarly didn’t make her feel any better. Maii lay back in her cell, her mind suppressed once more by the suffocating effects of the drug Xarodine. The only comfort Roche could take was that Galine Four’s internal gravity generators were still not working properly. The self-destruction of one of the Box’s drones right in the very heart of the station had done too much damage, and ambient gravity remained at about half normal.

“Where are you taking us?” she asked.

“The only time you’ll speak, Roche,” said Shak’ni from behind her, “is to give us information.”

INTERROGATION, HUH? Haid broadcast.

<I’d be disappointed otherwise.>

“You will cease any other forms of communication, too,” Shak’ni added. “You may only continue to receive information from your ship provided it is non-encrypted.”

The procession of guards and captives wound their way to freight elevators, then down into the heart of the station. At least that was something, Roche thought to herself. If they’d been taken to the destroyer, things would’ve become difficult indeed.

She watched through the Ana Vereine’s sensors as the Sebettu approached. In design it was little different from other Kesh craft—an odd combination of streamlined and prickly, as though an ordinary spaceship had been half- melted and stretched—but its size was impressive. A dozen Galine Fours would have fit easily into its holds. Its entire surface was pockmarked by retractable weapon emplacements, instrument clusters, and fighter launch bays. The intrasystem engines that brought it to an imposing halt beside the station radiated as much energy as a small sun.

She hoped Byrne had managed to get the outriggers away from the area. The spines were their only hope of survival. Although not capable of slow-jumping out of the Gauntlet, they did at least possess resources that would allow the outriggers to survive in the middle of nowhere.

When Roche realized what she was thinking, it occurred to her how ridiculous it was. The system was due to be totally destroyed in less than a day. Although the collapse of the boundary was initially slow, it would proceed exponentially. The double-jovian system had already succumbed; she had watched it dissolve into the invisible barrier like ice into fire just before the attack had begun. The region of space occupied by Galine Four would be gone in twelve hours. If the outriggers weren’t gone by then, no amount of supplies would save them.

All evidence of what had occurred here would be gone forever, she thought. It was the perfect situation in which to conduct a little genocide      

The freight elevator opened opposite a window showing the hanging gardens at the heart of the station. The vibrant green contrasted sharply with the gloom of her situation, but she tried to take hope anyway. All was not yet lost. Not quite.

The guards led her to Rufo’s sanctum sanctorum. Its elegance and purity were unchanged, but she admired it less for the corruption she knew it hid. Rufo himself looked old and bitter despite his victory. His speech was rapid and sometimes hard to understand; he paced constantly, and he seemed unable to maintain eye contact with anyone but Haden B’shan; all of which, Roche noticed, he was apparently unaware.

A chair slid out of the floor beside her and she was forced into it. The others were treated likewise, despite Mavalhin’s protests. Disisto’s expression was tight-lipped, but he said nothing, seemingly confident that things would be sorted out with his boss soon enough. Haid sat straight in his chair and watched everything closely.

“So, Commander Roche.” Rufo spoke with the disdain of a reproachful parent, stepping up to Morgan with his hands behind his back. “We meet again. Perhaps you will be more accommodating this time.”

“Perhaps you might show me the same courtesy,” Roche shot back.

Rufo shrugged, his eyes averted to the floor. “I suppose there were lies on both sides,” he acknowledged.

“Who was it that said that there are lies, and then there are damned lies?”

Rufo smiled humorlessly. “I believe the earliest recorded mention of that saying is some two hundred and fifty thousand years ago. The Human condition hasn’t changed much in that time, has it?”

“Obviously.”

“There will always be optimists whose dreams of a moral society are about as realistic, and as foolish, as those who believe in fate.”

“Look, Rufo,” said Roche, “we really don’t have time for this kind of banter. Why not just get on with it?”

He stopped pacing for a moment, but still his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “Very well,” he said. “I want to know everything you know about Adoni Cane. And remember, Field Officer Shak’ni has his instructions, so please, no lies.”

Roche had already decided to tell him everything she knew. It wouldn’t hurt; he probably knew more than she did, anyway. So she started at the beginning—at Cane’s examination on Sciacca’s World—and brought him up to date. He nodded constantly, but didn’t say anything himself until she had finished.

“And you are satisfied with the explanation that he is a product of the Sol Apotheosis Movement—a Wunderkind, as they were called?”

“Not entirely,” she said. “There are inconsistencies.”

“Of course there are. We have images of these Wunderkind. They were quite remarkable.” A window opened above the desk; in it appeared a figure that looked as if it had been inflated with liquid helium. Its skin was bluish over limbs that bulged alarmingly. The scale next to it showed that it stood almost three meters high. “Do you agree?”

Startled, she didn’t know what to say. If Rufo had that image, then presumably COE Intelligence had it too. Why hadn’t the Box or her ex-superiors in COE Intelligence failed to notice the disparity between it and the near-perfect Pristine reality of Adoni Cane?

Disisto looked smug. He had been telling the truth after all.

“I don’t understand,” she managed after a moment or two.

“Obviously.” Rufo wandered around the room, touching panels and studying screens as though bored. “We will return to Cane in a moment. For now I wish to talk about the other clone warrior.”

“What about him?”

“Did you find him?”

“I doubt I would be here now if I had.”

“That’s not necessarily true. These creatures may be ruthless, but they aren’t stupid. If his purposes were not served by killing you, then he would not do so. That is the only explanation I can deduce for your extended survival while in the company of Adoni Cane.”

She couldn’t argue that point. “You believe he was among the outriggers,” she said.

“Did you see anything to suggest that he might have been?”

She thought about Yarrow. “Not hard evidence as such, no...”

“But suspicions?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

Field Officer Shak’ni spoke: “Your cargo hold contains several of these people. Could the clone be among them?”

She shook her head. “They were examined as they boarded. All were ordinary mundanes. Nothing like Cane.”

“Then the one we are seeking might be among the others still at large.” The Kesh grunted to himself. “We will hunt them down, one by one. If he is among them, we will find him.”

Roche gritted her teeth. She’d thought that her capture would end the involvement of the outriggers. “They’re not to blame. They didn’t know—”

“They wouldn’t have,” said Rufo. “These creatures are chameleonic in their ability to blend in, when they want to.

Indeed, that is their primary function: to insinuate. Then to corrupt. Like everything else they do, they do it well.”

“You sound like you’ve studied them for some time,” she said.

Her guard nudged her in the shoulder for speaking out of turn, but Rufo waved him away.

“At a distance, yes, but always after the fact. Only recently have people begun to suspect that something might be going on. Highly placed people. The Highest. They have become concerned. There is evidence to suggest that beings like Cane have been emerging for years now throughout the galaxy—far more than the handful you are aware of. Thousands, possibly millions of them. Although the individuals may not be noticed, their effects are. We mundanes do not see them, though; we are entangled in the details, in the data. A superior perspective is required to tease out the trends.”

“That’s where you got the command language from, then. The High Humans?”

“Yes. One of them or more; I can’t tell. Even individually, they have access to information I can only dream of. Together...” Rufo seemed to gather himself. “Did Cane respond to the command language, by the way? I presume by your question that you detected it.”

“He said he understood fragments but that it didn’t make any sense as a whole. It was jumbled, as though whoever put it together didn’t know what it meant. And the Box said its syntax wasn’t like anything from around here.”

Rufo chuckled softly. “Hardly surprising. Those fragments were recorded over half a million centuries ago.”

For a moment, Roche was speechless.

It was Mavalhin who spoke: “Bullshit.”

The guard clouted him, but the sentiment had been aired.

“I assure you, Myer, it is not,” said Rufo. “Although I will admit to a similar skepticism when I first heard that claim. Of course, since then I have learned more than enough to convince me otherwise. The language Cane and his ilk respond to was written when Humanity was a single pure strain—before the Primordial Castes, before the Pristines, before even the High Castes. It is a piece of history, and Cane is an integral part of it.”

“What do you intend to do with him?” Roche asked.

“He’s not your concern anymore,” said Rufo. “He’ll be kept as he is until we are ready to study him. And study him we will, I assure you. We intend to learn the precise secrets of his genetic makeup and abilities. We want to know how many there are like him, and where they are headed. We need to know who made him, and, more importantly, why.”

“And then,” said Shak’ni, “we will kill him.”

A martial fanfare echoed through the station, and every Kesh in the room suddenly stiffened.

Rufo visibly paled as the sound of marching feet came from the anteroom. The inner door slid open. The Kesh saluted as an officer entered the room surrounded by a full military escort. Roche swiveled in her seat to look.

The new arrival was easily the tallest and strongest Kesh officer she had ever seen—which in itself was impressive. Dressed in armor not dissimilar to the weapons and ships of the Caste—smooth, concave lines tapering to sharp points at odd places, burnished wood in color—with a retractable helmet bearing insignia Roche had never seen in person before, the Kesh general exuded power, confidence, and ruthlessness in equal portions.

The general stopped in the middle of the room and surveyed its contents.

“Sh’shek hroga vied ra vhul kimosh’n ka,” she said, her voice hoarse from an old injury.

“Opulence is a sign of waste,” a junior officer translated. “And waste is forbidden.”

The general continued, via the translator: “I will be glad when this arrangement is concluded, and the stench of inferior species is gone from my nostrils.”

“Kuresh Darkan—” Shak’ni began, but the general cut him off.

“This operation has been conducted without honor. You will be disciplined.”

Shak’ni nodded stiffly, the red veinlike marks on his face standing out. “As you wish,” he said so all could hear and understand.

“General Darkan does not wish to debase herself by speaking to inferiors.” The interpreter’s face was permanently pinched in distaste. “She grants me permission to speak for her. You—Linegar Rufo. Is debriefing concluded?”

The scientist stepped forward, carefully projecting a passive, respectful demeanor. “We are close to finishing, but—”

“Can their word be trusted?”

“Yes, General,” said B’shan. “I have spent enough time with these people to know when they are telling the truth.”

The general nodded distantly. “Then we have learned the precise location of the second warrior.”

“Not exactly,” said Rufo, “but we do have an idea—”

“But we do still have the one called Cane?”

Rufo nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.”

“Then we can abandon the other one to his fate,” said the interpreter. “We cannot linger here. In seventeen hours this system will be nothing but dust. We will leave the moment we have downloaded the contents of the station’s datapool.”

“If I may speak,” said Shak’ni.

The general nodded without looking at him.

“We have captured a vessel—”

“The Ana Vereine,” said the interpreter. “Yes, we know.”

“It contains many new technologies. We have docked it to this station. It should be retained for study.”

“And the AI? What of that?”

“I gave strict instructions that it should be placed under the tightest security. Any transmissions—”

“We are aware of the risks. Any transmissions in either direction will result in its expulsion and destruction. Are you suggesting we keep this, too?”

“It is bounty—”

“What use is a box too dangerous to open? Besides, its technology is irrelevant to us. No intelligence, artificial or otherwise, can equal the Kesh Ideal. Its tricks are worthless and dishonorable.”

Roche wanted to ask what the general thought of the High Humans but decided that speaking out of turn was inadvisable.

The general grunted something in the Kesh language, and the interpreter translated: “We will, however, take the ship. It has a working slow-jump drive, and to leave it here would be folly. What purpose it is put to by the Dictatrix is up to her.”

“And the captives?” Shak’ni asked.

The general gazed contemptuously across the room, directly into Roche’s eyes.

“They will remain here with the others,” said the interpreter with a slight smirk. “When the system collapses, they will die.”

Rufo stepped forward again. “When you say the others,” he said anxiously, “you mean the outriggers, right?”

“Those as well, yes.”

“Ah, as well as—?”

“This station and all those upon it, of course.”

“But our arrangement—”

The interpreter smiled again. “We have no further use for you, Rufo, You are as inferior as the others. It would be a waste of time and effort to return you to your people. Let them save you, if that is what they wish.”

“I—” the scientist stammered, fear and hopelessness rising to fill his eyes. He seemed to age decades in an instant. “That is—you cannot—”

“Jin ‘ek ke yi,” sneered the general.

Roche didn’t need the interpreter to understand; it was clear from the general’s tone and expression. They could do it and they would.

“This is insane!” Disisto’s voice broke the tension in the room.

The general faced him, nostrils flared in anger. A guard struck him in the back, knocking him to the floor.

“You were not permitted to speak,” said the interpreter with a smooth grin.

Disisto picked himself up, wincing. “I don’t give a damn! We’ve done everything you asked us to do here. We’ve worked for you, put ourselves at risk, got you what you wanted—”

The guard whipped an arm around Disisto’s throat and tightened his hold until he could no longer speak or even breathe. Dragging the security chief upright, the guard held him motionless, choking.

Waving the interpreter aside, the general crossed the room to face Disisto. “You think us cruel?” she asked.

Something odd stirred in Roche’s mind—a feeling of unreality, distancing her from the events unfolding before her.

Disisto was unable to reply. The general gestured, and the guard threw Disisto to the floor. The security chief gasped for air, barely able to rise on all fours, let alone speak coherently. The general reached for the guard’s pistol and aimed it at the back of Disisto’s head. She fired, once, and Disisto slumped forward.

“Perhaps we are,” she said, returning the guard’s pistol.

Roche’s vision went blank; all she could see were the words that had flashed one by one on the irikeii’s display.

: BEWARE

: CRUEL

: ONE

: COMES

And all she could smell was the blood pooling around Disisto’s body.

 

* * *

 

“N’hok vi ha’kahri tsen!”

Roche snapped out of it. She looked around, trying to find the source of the exclamation, but at first was unable to.

The general’s anger was tempered by her own surprise.

“Who dares claim the Right?” asked the interpreter.

“Ri,” said Haid, standing. “I do.”

“Outrageous!”

Roche was as shocked as anyone. “Ameidio, what are you—?”

“Vask!” The general ordered the room to silence; even those unfamiliar with the language knew what she was demanding. She stepped up to Haid. “Do you realize what it is you do, little man?”

“Du. I claim the Warrior’s Right to challenge a superior’s decision by formal combat.”

“And who made you a Warrior?”

“Sh’manit Dro, the Sixteenth and last G’rodo Matriarch.”

General Darkan hissed through her teeth. “A disgraced lineage.”

Haid nodded. “But a lineage all the same,” he said. “Or perhaps you are unprepared for such a challenge?”

“We are always—”

“Then name a champion to defend your honor,” said Haid smoothly. “Unless you choose to fight yourself.”

The general sneered in open disdain. “I would not demean myself with such a fight. I would stand to lose more honor than I could possibly hope to gain.”

“I will fight him, General,” said Lieutenant-Doctor Haden B’shan. “With your permission, of course.”

The general rounded on Shak’ni’s junior officer. “Clearly you have spent too much time with these people, Lieutenant. There is no time for these games.”

B’shan nodded in agreement. “Nevertheless, he knows the traditions, he speaks the Tongue. I believe his claim to be a legitimate one.”

The general snorted. “It is your decision, Lieutenant. I will not intervene should you wish to debase yourself thus.”

“Yes, but will you honor the victor?” Haid asked.

The general glowered at Haid, her eyes filled with contempt. “You confuse your capabilities with your dreams,” she said shortly. Then: “But should B’shan succumb to that dream, then yes, you will have earned the Right.”

“Your name on it?”

“My name on it.” The general indicated her interpreter and guards. “And these are my witnesses.”

Haid bowed stiffly. “Where do we fight?” he asked. “Here?”

The general thought for a moment, then continued in her native tongue: “On the way here we passed an enclosed area with several observation points; a garden of some kind. That will do.” Then to B’shan, she said, “You can fight while we download this station’s data and free the bounty ship from its chattel.” It took Roche a moment to realize that the general was referring to the outriggers in the hold. “We will leave the moment this farce has ended.”

Haid nodded, apparently satisfied.

“Ameidio—” Roche began.

“Quiet!” Her guard pressed her back into the seat.

“There is no time left for discussion,” the general said. “I want the data transfer to commence as soon as possible. Any physical resources we have contributed to this station will be returned to the Sebettu immediately. However”— she swept the Humans in the room with a warning glance— “a full contingent will remain on board to ensure against further foolishness. Field Officer Shak’ni, you will see personally to the neutralization of the Olmahoi and Surin epsense adepts. They and the clone must be ready to move in one hour. And this time I want no loose ends.”

Shak’ni bowed and stalked out of the room, casting a baleful glance at Roche as he went.

The general allowed herself a chuckle as she spoke to her interpreter.

“The two Warriors will have a moment to reflect upon the import of the task ahead while they wait for the weapons to arrive,” he translated. “The rest of you may clean this up.” He pointed at Disisto’s body. “If you wish,” he added, then turned to follow the general as she strode heavily from the room. B’shan silently followed.

Mavalhin was instantly on his feet. “Congratulations, Rufo,” he spat. “You’ve managed to get us all killed!”

The old scientist didn’t respond. All he could do was stand and stare blankly at the body of his security chief.

“The Kesh drive a hard bargain,” Haid said. “The moment you think you’ve got a fair deal, it’s time to check the fine print.”

Roche put her hand on his arm; his biomesh was sharp and cold to the touch. “Why are you doing this, Ameidio?”

“Because I’ve always wanted to, and I figure this might be my last chance.”

“Be serious—”

“No, I am. You’ve seen the way the Kesh are. They’re impossible to deal with. Anybody who spends any time with them ends up tiptoeing around to avoid causing a fuss. It wears thin after a while. Even the G’rodo were like that; better than most, in a lot of ways, but in the end just as annoying. It’s nice to get your own back, just once.”

She sighed. “Well, what about the weapons? Do you get a choice?”

He shook his head. “When you invoke an ancient rite, you get what you’re given.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “This is insane.”

“Perhaps, but we don’t really have many options open to us, do we? Unless you have a plan you haven’t let me in on yet?” When she didn’t answer, he smiled and said: “Then I guess we go with my idea.”

Roche muttered under her breath as she turned away from Haid; she faced Rufo and said: “Rufo, you’re still the chief around here, for what it’s worth. How about getting someone in to take Disisto away? I think he deserves better than this, don’t you?”

Rufo nodded numbly and moved over to the console. He spoke briefly to someone outside and, moments later, the Kesh guard let a medical stretcher through. Disisto’s body was bagged up and taken away. Nothing was said by anyone throughout the process; everyone just stood and watched in silence.

“How long do we have?” said Roche after the doors had closed again.

Haid shrugged. “I don’t know. The longer the better. Even artificial limbs need time to limber up.”

Roche stepped over to Rufo. “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked. “Cane is older than I originally thought; the command language has been coming from the High Humans... Anything at all?”

He looked up at her with eyes empty of anything but despair. “What difference does it make now?”

“Spare me your self-pity,” she snapped. “Now talk to me! Do you have any contact names for the High Humans? Or possible suspects for the people who made Cane? There must be something else!”

Rufo stared vacantly into space. Then he said: “Introns.”

“What?”

“Check Cane’s introns.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“We took a tissue sample before we put Cane into hibernation,” he said. “It looks like yours or mine on the surface; it has the same ratio of introns to exons. You see, introns are part of everyone’s genetic code; the junk parts, the filler. The exons do all the work. We assumed the differences lay in the exons, so we concentrated on those areas. But there was something about the introns—something unusual. We haven’t had the time to look at them properly. You could start there.” He stopped, the beginnings of a hopeful gleam in his eye abruptly extinguished. “But you won’t have time either, will you? You can’t even get a message outside to let someone else know.”

Mavalhin made a noise of disgust from behind him. Roche ignored it.

“Is that all?” she said.

He shook his head. “You know as much as I do, now. Frightening how little it is, don’t you think?”

Roche could only agree.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before the Kesh returned. Haid had been warming up for just ten minutes when B’shan walked in.

“Why are you doing this?” Roche asked, stepping in front of him. “I thought you were better than the others.”

“At least this way you’ll have a chance,” he said evenly.

Up close Roche found the Kesh lieutenant’s skin almost beautiful: his blue and purple markings looked like tribal tattoos applied by a skilled ink-worker. For all his leanings toward mundane culture, it wasn’t difficult to believe that he could descend to such barbarism.

She stepped out of the way. “You’re both fools,” she said.

B’shan faced Haid across the room, and bowed. They exchanged a handful of words in the Kesh language, then bowed again.

“He has consented to allow me use of my implants,” Haid said to Roche.

“Otherwise I fear the battle would be somewhat one-sided,” B’shan explained.

Roche shuddered at the idea of Haid stripped back to nothing but flesh. He would have been utterly helpless, a cripple.

“The general will permit those of you who wish to observe to do so,” B’shan went on, addressing everyone. “You are, after all, witnesses to her oath, and we must ensure she carries it out. Combat will commence in five minutes.”

“What about the weapons?” Roche directed the question at Haid, but it was B’shan who answered:

“There will be no armor, powered or passive. There will be nothing but the druh.”

“That’s the weapon we’ll be given,” explained Haid. “Not much more use than a pocketknife, really.”

“Even a pocketknife can kill,” said B’shan.

“I know. I’ve tried it.”

B’shan straightened. At full stretch, he had about thirty centimeters on Haid, and he looked considerably stronger. While Roche didn’t doubt her friend’s agility under the best circumstances, fighting in half-g with unfamiliar implants was hardly optimal.

Instead of saying anything more, B’shan simply bowed again and left the room. Haid followed, casting a reassuring look at Roche as he passed. When he had gone, the guards indicated that the others should also leave.

As Roche walked out the room, Mavalhin stepped in beside her.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Morgan,” he hissed.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re up to something, right? This is all a ruse of some kind.”

She turned on him sharply. “Don’t look to me to get you out of your own stupid situations, Myer. And don’t bother trying to say it was me that got you into this mess, either. You jumped at the chance to join me when it looked like I was going somewhere—just like you did back at College.” For a moment she felt vertigo, as though reliving her dream of falling. “Take control of your own life, Myer, and leave me to sort out mine.”

He backed away, face flushed with anger and embarrassment. She didn’t care. He meant nothing to her. All she wanted to do was talk to the Box. But she couldn’t. The slightest attempt to do so would result in its destruction, as well as Maii’s execution. If the Kesh detected any transmissions, it would be expelled into space and fired upon from a dozen different directions. No matter what sort of firepower it was rated to stand, that was going to hurt....

They didn’t have to walk far. The general had ordered the garden windows to be smashed; there seemed no reason to maintain the delicate ecosystem any longer. Rufo’s dismay only increased when he saw the damage. The corridor surrounding the garden now more resembled a gallery, with both Kesh and mundanes curious to see what would happen. Word had obviously spread.

When the two combatants stepped into the garden, a small cheer went up. Roche wasn’t sure for whom the cheer was intended; maybe it was just for the spectacle itself. Haid and B’shan stood on one of several mesh walkways crisscrossing the garden. Where the bottom was, Roche couldn’t see; far enough below for a fall likely to be lethal, she imagined.

The general clapped her hands once. Haid and B’shan held curved bronze-colored swords in their left hands, each barely as long as the average Pristine forearm. They were intricately carved with elongated Kesh characters that made no sense to Roche. Haid raised his to kiss the narrow guard, and bowed to the general.

“Sh’ten dri ha,” he called. “By the blade!”

“To the death,” B’shan responded, also bowing.

“Begin!” rasped the general, and the two men faced each other.

They stood two meters apart, and were wary at first. Haid tested both his reach and B’shan’s defenses by darting forward twice to slash at the Kesh’s exposed side, but B’shan parried with ease. The third time Haid tried it, B’shan counterattacked with a quick stab, only to catch a boot to the side for his troubles. The kick didn’t even wind him, but it did take him by surprise. Roche could see the Kesh lieutenant hesitate, reassessing his opponent.

Then the combat truly began. Later she would recall a hail of thrusts, stabs, and sweeping slashes from B’shan as he sought to overwhelm Haid’s defenses. The ex-mercenary was hard-pressed to keep up, parrying with his one good arm and relying on a more clumsy artificial limb to keep his balance. Twice B’shan’s druh caught Haid’s biomesh, parting several strands and slicing shallowly into flesh. It was difficult to tell through the blood,

but Haid’s implants didn’t seem to be affected. He certainly didn’t display any sign of weakness. Apart from the odd moment when his guard was down, he fought as well as ever.

It was clear from the outset, though, that he was no match for the Kesh officer. B’shan went for his kidneys, and Haid only just managed to block the blow. Barely had he recovered his balance when the druh swept in to slash his throat. He staggered backwards, ducking just out of reach. A halfhearted stab in the general direction of B’shan’s sword arm failed to connect, and he was struggling for his life again.

Roche felt that her friend’s only hope lay in superior agility. B’shan had power to spare, able to hammer blows with an emphasis Haid couldn’t possibly match, but the Kesh’s size left him clumsy. A couple of times Haid gained ground by encouraging him to overextend, permitting a nimble stab from below, or a quick shove to put him off balance. At times like this, with B’shan forced onto his back foot, Haid made ground.

But that ground was soon lost. Roche knew that unless fortune smiled upon him, Haid would ultimately fall.

Her knuckles gripped the windowsill as Haid endured another blistering barrage from the Kesh. Above him, the general watched impassively, her expression almost one of boredom. For the most part the fight was conducted in silence, apart from the ringing of metal on metal, the various sounds of exertion, and the occasional call of encouragement from the spectators. Both men were breathing heavily, although the Kesh’s smooth skin was almost entirely sweat-free.

B’shan had almost managed to back Haid to the end of the walkway when Haid miscalculated. Knowing that he was about to be cornered, the ex-mercenary needed to find space. There were only two options: another walkway, or pushing through B’shan and out the other side. For once, Haid took the offensive, summoning every last iota of energy to put B’shan off his stroke. The moment he had an opening, he leapt onto the guardrail and sprang for the next walkway down.

It almost worked. The move took B’shan by surprise, just long enough for Haid to avoid the slash that followed him. He managed the leap well enough, his artificial legs being more than up to the task in half-gravity. It was the landing he fumbled, stumbling heavily and throwing out his good arm to break his fall.

Roche heard the crack before she saw what had happened. The walkway he’d left partially obscured his new position, and a few seconds passed before she found a better viewpoint. By the time she reached it, he was on his feet, holding his broken arm to his stomach. The sword was in the hand of his new arm. He flexed it, eyes seeking another way out as B’shan followed him across the gap.

Eyes seeking her, Roche realized. He was waiting for her to save him.

But there was nothing she could do.

As B’shan straightened warily, druh at the ready in case Haid attacked while he recovered from the leap, a whistle echoed across the leafy space. It came from the general and her entourage, a Kesh version of the warning sirens associated with mundanes. The general held a whispered conversation with her interpreter, then looked pointedly across the garden to Roche.

“Morgan Roche!” the general’s voice boomed. “Would you care to explain why we are once again under attack?”

Everything stopped, and all eyes turned to look at her as the general continued:

“I have just received word that a number of outrigger all-suits have been seen approaching this location in attack formation. I suppose you know nothing about this?”

“I don’t, I swear!” And it was the truth. Roche genuinely had no idea what was going on. Another attack by the outriggers? What was Auditor Byrne up to?

“Gah!” The general turned away, disgusted, back to Haid and B’shan. The two had backed away from each other during the interruption, although B’shan still stood with his weapon raised, as though unsure whether to continue. For a moment Roche was certain he would press home his advantage while the chance remained. But he didn’t.

Haid grinned up at Roche, and nodded his thanks.

Roche could only stare dumbstruck back at him.

“This farce is at an end!” the general declared. “There will be no further distraction, and no more leniency. Lieutenant, your weapon.” The general indicated the druh in B’shan’s hand. The Kesh threw it expertly across and up to his superior, who caught it with one strong hand. She waved vaguely in Roche’s direction. “Bring her to me.”

Roche realized what she meant when the general’s bodyguards began converging on her. She looked around for some way to escape, but every exit was blocked. A circle formed around her as she backed away. Strong hands grabbed her from behind and dragged her to where the general waited, druh at the ready.

“It is bad luck to wield a blade without bloodying it,” the general said. She pointed at the ground before her, and Roche was pushed onto her knees. She struggled but could do nothing to prevent being forced facedown onto the ground at the general’s feet.

“Morgan!” Haid’s voice echoed up from the gardens. She realized he couldn’t see what was going on, and was glad to be spared that indignity.

“Ameidio!” she called back. “Do what the Box says—take the Ana Vereine—tell Maii—!”

A boot connected with the side of her head to silence her, and her mouth filled with blood.

She heard the general curse her in the Kesh native tongue. She sensed the blade being raised. She closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

Into the expectant hush, a woman’s voice spoke.

“General Darkan!” said the voice. It came over Galine Four’s public address system and seemed to echo from everywhere at once. “Surrender control of the Sebettu immediately or I shall overload its primary generator and send you all to hell!”

Roche heard the general hiss. “Who is this? What is the meaning—”

“You have thirty seconds to think about it. If I don’t have an answer by then, I will make good my promise.”

The general roared. Roche, forgotten for the moment, dared to breathe again.

“I do not listen to threats!”

“Then listen to this: I have instructed your cooling systems to shut down. In five minutes a chain reaction will begin that cannot be stopped. Your primary generator will blow if you don’t give me a reason to reverse the instruction. There is nothing you can do to stop it, except to hand over control to me. It’s as simple as that. You now have twenty seconds left.”

“How is this possible?” the general roared, but for the first time Roche detected a hint of fear in her voice. “How are you doing this?”

“How I am doing this is irrelevant. Know only that I am doing it, and give me control of your ship!”

“Never!” The booming voice was defiant, but the general’s expression was full of uncertainty.

“Then mine will be the last voice any of you will ever hear.”

“Who are you?” barked the general.

“I’m the one everybody has been looking for, General,” said the voice. “But I suspect you already knew that.”

Roche’s head reeled: female?

There was a long silence from the general, then:

“No,” said the general. “I would rather die than let you loose on an unsuspecting galaxy.”

“So be it,” said the woman. “You have five minutes to make peace with Asha, General. I suggest you make good use of that time.”

“You are bluffing!” the general hissed, but neither the clone warrior nor Morgan Roche was listening.