16.0

Chen Lai was speaking, but Ravi was having real trouble concentrating on what he had to say. He was thinking about the little black ball stuffed in the bottom of his space chest. Too cold to touch when the drone had first brought it in, he had waited for it to warm up in the frigid confines of the lifeboat, and then attempted to scan it, without success. It was shielded from easy examination and was making no attempt to communicate with the hive. Like BozBall, the imitation wasn’t completely smooth. If he looked closely, there were a number of fine joints on the surface. Proof, if proof were needed, that it was capable of changing shape, perhaps even to the spider-legged form he had seen in his dream.

Ravi was painfully aware of three things. One: he should never have brought an unknown object aboard the ship. Two: having brought it aboard, he should have reported it straight away. But, three: the object was proof positive he wasn’t completely crazy. Yet it was a proof he couldn’t use. If he handed the object in, they’d ask him how he knew it was there. And after that, they’d either psych him off the program or toss him in the brig. So, the little black ball lay quiet at the bottom of his space chest, burning at his conscience.

Everyone in the briefing room was staring at him.

“Something on your mind, Middy?” Chen Lai was asking sarcastically.

“N . . . no, sir.”

“Oh. I guess that’s because there’s nothing on your mind! Pay attention!”

“Yes, sir.”

Chen Lai was staring at him, expression unreadable, perhaps thinking about loading punishment on top of the reprimand. He stared a moment more and turned away. Ravi let loose a quiet sigh of relief.

“As I was saying,” Chen Lai began pointedly, “the navigators are telling us the system we’re dropping into is full of dirty space. Way dirtier than Home System, apparently. In any event, they don’t want anything getting in the way of the radio telescopes. So, as of 0200 this morning, the fleet is on radio blackout. All communications from here on in are by message laser only.”

“There go the newsfeeds,” Ansimov muttered mutinously. “How in Archie’s name is anyone going to know what’s going on around here?”

Maybe he spoke louder than he’d intended.

“For those of you wondering how life can go on without radio,” Chen Lai added, “the answer is more message lasers.” Ravi’s eyelids twitched under assault from a data packet. “Which means more receiving dishes. Which means . . . you lot are going to get your sorry asses out onto the spine and start installing them, stat. Teams and schedules as assigned. Try not to break stuff.”

The fact he would still have his precious newsfeeds did nothing to improve Ansimov’s mood.

“They’ve had a hundred and thirty-two years to think about this, and they only figure out they need more message lasers now? They should have started installing ’em years ago instead of having us floating around on some insane fire drill.”

“Aw, come on,” Ravi joshed. “A shift and a half in open space? It’ll be great. No classes today—and think about the view. The Milky Way? The Destination Star? You know you love it.”

“Sard the view. It’s a shift and a half. I want my bunk.”

By a shift and a quarter, even Ravi had to concede that the view had lost its allure. He and Ansimov had been working flat-out the whole time, with no time out for meals. Refreshments had consisted of sucking nutrients and water out of tubes whenever a short respite presented itself. The rest of the time was spent in a fuzzy cloud of coding and drones, assembling and bolting and aligning dishes.

He was probably imagining it, but the Destination Star seemed brighter than the last time he’d been outside. Its pale light cast stark shadows on the ice-rimed gantry, throwing the delicate trelliswork of the spine into stark relief. The ice itself broke off in pinkish-brown lumps as the drones cleared it away to make anchor points. The pieces drifted slowly away from the ship, strobing bright and dark as they spun end over end in the starlight.

“Done,” Ansimov muttered. Suit radios, to the relief of all, had not been banned. “Last one to the elevator’s a LOKI.” He unhooked his tether and pulled himself hand over hand through the trellises, a swarm of drones puffing along in his wake. His reckless progress made him uncatchable. He reached the elevator minutes ahead of Ravi—and everyone else, for that matter.

Back in his quarters, Ravi spent longer in the shower than he should have, but he figured he deserved it. Besides, he’d had over fifty liters of free water on Bohr, so his account was fuller than usual. He could actually afford it for once.

Washed and changed, he reached out into the hive, looking for Boz.

You there? he messaged. Call me back. I’m worried about you.

It was early evening. The hive was popping and crackling with data. But none of it was Boz’s. Ravi sighed and headed off to Ansimov’s for some real food.

Sofia had wanted to meet earlier than usual to go over Warren’s chemistry assignments, so Ravi had picked the biggest tree in the arboretum to hide under. Even so, the faux Home Star could still be seen blazing between the leaves. Ravi couldn’t help himself: he checked his radiation counter.

Sofia was really struggling with clays, and the frightening blue sky had darkened to a more comforting black before she’d finally gotten it. With the coming of darkness, the paths were beginning to fill up with people taking a stroll. Sofia arched her back against the tree trunk to stretch out a muscle. Ravi tried not to stare.

“Why’d you miss class yester-sol?” she asked. “Big job?”

“Chen Lai had us installing message lasers. To compensate for the radio blackout.”

“Idiot.”

“Say what?” Ravi could feel the heat rising in his face.

“Not you, silly. I’m talking about the cretin who thought shutting down the radios was a good idea. It’s, like, a total waste of time. I use the radio telescopes every day, and they can see perfectly well, thank you very much. Always have, always will.”

“But the interference . . .”

“Not a problem. There’s a whole suite of algorithms designed to filter it out. You could have every radio in the fleet broadcasting at the same time, and the telescopes wouldn’t even notice.”

Ravi felt himself frowning.

“Then why do it?” He absentmindedly rubbed an ache in his shoulder. “It was a lot of work.”

Sofia shrugged apologetically.

“It’s my great-uncle. I love him to death; really, I do. But he’s just an old fusspot when it comes to stuff like this. Everything has to be ‘beyond nominal.’ ” She raised her fingers in air quotes.

“Then maybe your great-uncle should come outside and ‘beyond nominally’ bolt on some hardware,” Ravi grumbled, though he was smiling just a little. “It’d give him a ‘beyond nominal’ sense of perspective.”

Sofia rewarded him with a giggle.

“It wouldn’t do the slightest bit of good. Sure as water is wet, he’d find something to complain about, and demand that it be fixed, like, immediately.”

Ravi grimaced. Sofia’s great-uncle sounded an awful lot like Chen Lai. It took him a moment to realize that Sofia was staring at him, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Say, Ravi? Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course. Anything.” There was a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Could you show me the drive? Vladimir told me you’ve been all the way down there, and I’d really like to see it before it’s too late. I mean, it’s carried us all this way, this amazing distance, and I’d just like to take a look before they fire it up for the last time.” She looked wistful. “Something to tell the kids, maybe. You know?”

Ravi did know. The very idea of the drive, its sheer power, its . . . relentlessness, had haunted his dreams since childhood. He understood the hold it could have on a person, the magnetism of it, this thing that had so effortlessly hurled them between stars. And yet.

“It’s a restricted area. You can’t just go down to the engine rooms, Sofe. You need clearances. Access codes. And that’s just for the elevator. The rooms themselves are asleep: no air, no heat, which means more clearances to power them up.” He shook his head reluctantly. “It can’t be done.”

“Can’t you just ask Chen Lai? Everyone says he really likes you. I’m sure he’d do you a favor.”

A small jolt of surprise set Ravi to blinking. The idea that Chen Lai liked anybody, let alone him, seemed absurd. He gave Sofia a piercing, slightly distrustful look. She returned his stare with wide-eyed interest, her lips parted in a soft smile. Even if he didn’t believe it, she surely did—and Sofia was connected. She would know what she was talking about. He felt suddenly warm and more than a little giddy. Maybe Chen Lai liked him after all. Which was great, he thought soberly. But he was still Chen Lai.

“Chen Lai won’t go for it,” he said, with genuine regret. “The guy is by-the-book.” He looked curiously at Sofia. “Unless your uncle could . . .”

Sofia shook her head with a smile.

“Eugene and Uncle don’t get on.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “They both wanted to marry my aunt back in the sol. Eugene lost”—a playful roll of the eyes—“obviously.”

Ravi was surprised yet again. The engineer was beginning to sound surprisingly human.

Sofia reached out and placed her hand on his wrist. It was soft, and warm, and it was suddenly difficult for Ravi to think about anything else.

“Surely, there’s some way? I can’t believe a little thing like a trip to the engine rooms is really so difficult. Is it?”

The hand on his wrist was very, very warm.

“Let me see what I can do.” It was like someone else speaking, from very far away.

“Thank you!” Sofia squealed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. For a moment, it felt to Ravi as if the wheel had stopped spinning.

Sofia stepped back.

“Well,” she said. “I guess I’d better get going. Busy day tomorrow. A lot of calculations.”

She stepped out from under the tree, its leaves black shadows against the night sky, and headed to the path. Ravi stared at her retreating back until a strolling couple blocked it from view.

“That was interesting,” Boz said.

Ravi practically jumped out of his skin.

“You are totally wrapped around her finger.” She seemed more amused than disapproving. She was standing in front of him, hands in pockets, wearing her trademark allegedly leather jacket. In deference to the public nature of the space, there was no cigarette.

“What? Where?” Ravi was painfully aware that he was incoherent, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. All he could do was grin at her stupidly. Boz sat down on the grass, back against the tree trunk, and made herself comfortable.

“I got your messages about an hour ago.” Curious eyes drank in the arboretum crowds. “You and your girlfriend were spilling enough code for a newsfeed channel, so I just followed the breadcrumbs till I found you. Thought I’d give you a surprise.”

“Heart attack, more like. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Boz raised an eyebrow.

“You sure about that? Mind if I have a go?”

“She’s out of your league. Besides, she’s spoken for.” The words left a sour taste on his tongue. He quickly changed the subject. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the best part of a week.”

“Australia,” Boz said delphically.

“Since you left the brig, you gullgroper! I got the message you’d been released, and poof! Nothing.”

“Australia.” The smugness was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Ravi stared at her in rank disbelief. It took a while for the water to drop from the faucet.

“You were in Officer Country,” he said slowly. “Cut off from the hive. That’s why I couldn’t reach you.”

Boz nodded. Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“I was rotting in the brig, wondering if they could drop me down to Dead Weight without a trial, when the guards tell me I’ve got visitors.” Her voice dropped melodramatically. “What they didn’t tell me was the visitors were Commander-Inspector Vasconcelos and the sarding Chief Navigator!”

“You’re kidding!”

Boz pressed a hand against her chest.

“Honest to Archie, it’s true. Anyway, I’m thinking Vasconcelos would recycle me soon as breathe, but what’s Niko Ibori doing here? Who needs a navigator for an execution?”

She paused to let the scene sink in.

“So, Vasconcelos asks me how I’d like to have the charges dropped and my crew status upgraded to Satisfactory? Well, who wouldn’t? I said yes—like . . . DUH! But what’s the catch? And then Ibori starts talking, going on and on about needing probes to figure out Destination World and the inner system, and how they need better software, and would I help out with the programming because I’m, well, I’m the best they have.”

Boz’s expression was distinctly immodest. Ravi was staring at her, mouth agape.

“They want you to code?” he asked, scarcely believing his ears. He reached back into his cousin’s past. “Aren’t you barred from coding jobs? Like forever? Didn’t the ombudsman say you were a loose thruster who couldn’t be trusted with anything important?”

“What the ombudsman said was that I was a coding genius.”

“Whose love of mischief, general disrespect for authority, and three previous convictions precluded you from being trusted with anything important or, in fact, anything to do with coding.”

“He might also have said that. But bygones are bygones, apparently. Ban’s lifted.” Boz was literally shaking with excitement. “They really need me. These probes have got to . . .” The words dried up without warning. Boz had raised a hand to her mouth, as if to stop any more coming out.

“These probes have got to what, Boz?”

A small sliver of worry wormed into Ravi’s stomach. Vasconcelos was ShipSec, and Niko Ibori didn’t know Boz MacLeod from a hole in the hull. They were not friends or family, and they owed her no favors. He could picture his father spitting cynically on the deck. Vasconcelos and Ibori were officers. He very much doubted they had Boz’s interests at heart.

“Boz! What have these people gotten you into?”

“Nothing. Well, everything. But nothing bad. This stuff’s really, really cool; I just can’t talk about it yet. That’s why I’ve been hidden away in Australia. They don’t want the stuff I’m doing leaking into the hive, not till everything’s in place.” She looked far more earnest than usual. She reached out for his forearm, squeezing it in emphasis. “This stuff is important. You’ll see.”

Ravi took a deep breath and tried to let it go.

“Good for you,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “Maybe you can stop that mischief-maker on the Bohr from hijacking ’em in mid-flight.”

“Hijacking what?”

“Probes.” Ravi filled her in on the buzzing of the lifeboat, the way the probe had closed to within a hundred klicks before they’d even seen it. But Boz, if anything, looked even more confused than before.

“That can’t be right. They haven’t even built a hull yet. They’re still working on the architecture. And like I said”—she tapped her head—“no software.”

“Yeah, well, Bohr ShipSec would beg to differ. They told us the probes were up and running. Plus, I saw one. Brand-new sensor array, remember?”

Seeing Boz was about to argue, he changed the subject.

“Sard that,” he said quickly. “There’s more important stuff to talk about.” His face, he knew, had become very, very serious. “I need to tell you something—show you something—totally weird.” He looked deep in his cousin’s eyes, searching for the old Boz.

“Can you still keep a secret?”