“Wakey-wakey.” Karter leaned over Ibis’s inert, sheet-wrapped form to give them a shake and straightened.
From the floor, Ibis moaned. “Too early. Go away.”
Clothes were scattered all over the hotel room. A person-shaped lump was curled in the fetal position on the bed. Whoever it was lay cocooned in blankets, having stolen absolutely all of them. Not even a strand of hair peeked out. The sleeper didn’t move and wasn’t making a sound. Karter assumed they were alive—Ibis hadn’t gotten themselves into that much trouble before. However, worst-case scenarios were once all Karter knew, and they were therefore what generally occurred to her first, even if she then reminded herself how unlikely they were. It’d taken most of her life to feel reasonably secure.
Okay. They’re in the recovery position and breathing, she reassured herself. All is well. “It’s 14:00.” She kept her voice low for the sake of Ibis’s mystery guest. When that didn’t work, she nudged Ibis with the toe of her boot. “I put a liter of water and some aspirin on the bedside table. Hydrate. Take the pills. Get dressed. It’s time to go.”
Lifting the edge of a hotel-provided satin sleep mask, Ibis squinted up at her. “Do I have to?”
“Nah,” Karter said, a sarcastic smile pulling at one side of her mouth. “But if you don’t, you won’t get to see the booster mods that Sal installed on the engines. They muttered something about Mirabilis having more zip than a CJ-429. No problem. Lissa can pilot instead. See you when we get back.”
Ibis sprang up from the carpet like someone had pulled their jack-in-the-box lever. “Coming.” Their hair stood up on one side, and the weave of the carpet had left an imprint on their right cheek. The sleep mask hung around their neck. “Shit. My back hurts.”
“You really are getting too old for this crap, you know.”
“Ha. Never.” Ibis staggered to their feet and groaned. “Ready in a sec. I swear.” Dressed in a stranger’s oversize music-festival t-shirt, they stooped and snatched trousers from the floor. “Coffee?”
“Not before you drink all that water. I need you functional today.” Karter stepped to the door.
“I’m not hungover.”
“Then have some fucking manners. Say goodbye to your friend before you leave.”
Ibis paused, blinked, and turned to the bed. They seemed briefly confused. “Oh. Right. Now I remember.”
“Water.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Karter scowled. “Not your mom. Captain.”
“Whatever.”
“Must have been some party,” Karter said. “No third?”
Shrugging, Ibis replied, “That’s Jordan. They’re not into multiples.”
“Ah. Got it.”
Chugging half a liter of water, Ibis finally came up for air. “How about Lissa? She all right?”
Karter made it to the door before the question registered. She froze. “I assumed she was on Mirabilis with Ezi, working on the medbot problem.”
Ibis made a satisfied sound after they finished the last of the water. “Huh. You might want to check her room.”
Slowly, Karter turned to face Ibis. “What did you do to Lissa?”
“Nothing!” Ibis was attempting an innocent expression that absolutely didn’t suit them. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Ibis.” Karter tilted her head down. “You better not have done something to mess up Lissa.”
“She wanted to try one of the brownies Sal made. So—”
“You did not.” Karter caught herself. Don’t shout. Innocent bystanders are attempting to sleep.
Ibis stalled, taking their time returning the empty water bottle to the nightstand. “Great idea. Hydration. I feel much better. Okay. Thanks for dropping by.”
“How many bottles of tequila did you go through?” Karter hissed.
“One! Just like I promised! Between the—” Ibis paused to count on their fingers. “—ten of us.”
The lump on the mattress chose that moment to speak. “Eleven.”
“Right,” Ibis said. “Eleven. I forgot Xandi.”
“Xander.”
“Right.” Ibis plunged on. “So one bottle of booze wasn’t all that much.”
Jordan’s voice came from under the covers once again. “That depends on the size of the bottle.”
Ibis turned. “I had three shots, for fuck’s sake! Whose side are you on?”
“Mine? And in this case? Maybe Karter’s. Hi, Karter.”
“Hi, Jordan.” Karter turned to Ibis. “And what was in the brownies?”
Staring at the bed, Ibis said, “Traitor.”
“You love me anyway,” Jordan said.
“Hmmph. Maybe.” Tugging on a boot, Ibis scanned the room for its mate. “Oh. There you are.” They hopped across the room and retrieved the footwear in question.
“Ibis, focus.” Using two fingers, Karter pointed to Ibis and to her own eyes. “The brownies?”
“I don’t know. Sal said it was one of their special mixes. No problem. She’ll be fine. Should’ve worn off four hours ago.”
Karter sighed and went back to the door. “That’s just fucking great.”
“Party before life-changing events! It’s in all the vids!” Ibis said.
“Remind me to parentally limit your entertainment.” Karter stepped out into the hallway.
“You said you’re not my mo—”
Shaking her head, Karter cut off the rest of Ibis’s comment with the door. Lissa’s suite was three rooms over and across the hall. To Karter’s surprise, Lissa answered before she could knock.
Lissa appeared to have been awake for some time—long enough to shower, dress, and pack at least. Dressed in neatly pressed ship’s coveralls, she’d pulled her hair up into a smooth ponytail. Her makeup was perfect, and her stylish wheeled overnight bag rested on the bed behind her.
“Good afternoon.” Lissa tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”
“Everything is fine. I think.” Karter peered into Lissa’s eyes, searching for some sign of postrevelry discomfort. “How are you feeling?”
Lissa went back inside for her bags, speaking as she went. “The bed was quite comfortable. Oh. I helped Ezi with the medbot designs early this morning. We had a remote meeting with the second team, and the conversation inspired her. The extra support definitely helps. The psychiatric nurse arrived fifteen minutes ago. So, I thought it’d be a good time to check out of my room.” She grabbed the handle of her bag and hesitated. “Are you sure everything is all right?”
“I was just getting Ibis on their feet.” Karter waved in the direction of Ibis’s room. “They said that you had one of Sal’s special brownies last night. Having experienced that a few times, well… I was worried.”
“Oh. That.” Smiling, Lissa squeezed past and waited for her to step back before locking the now-empty room.
Four other people exited their rooms. Three more waited at the elevator. The hallway was getting crowded. Karter was thankful that the Lovelace employed a narrow AI to calculate the bill and charge the account.
“Apparently, Sal forgot to add the extra ingredients,” Lissa said. “The brownies were otherwise excellent. I had two. Dark chocolate is my favorite. Anyway, Ibis was having so much fun anticipating what would happen that I didn’t have the heart to tell them.”
“Do me a favor,” said Karter as they started down the hallway together.
Lissa raised an eyebrow in question.
“Don’t tell Ibis. Consider it our little secret.”
In what was a surprise to no one, the nonstop priority tram from the Seed to docking arm A was booked solid, so they took the regular tram. Every car was crammed with people and their belongings. There was only one available seat, and at the next stop, Karter gave hers up to a pregnant person.
Visitors from all over the station were preparing to leave. Gazing out the windows, Karter spotted quite a few residents in the midst of securing their businesses. In spite of the chaos, the atmosphere was calm but focused, like they had a job to do. The tram stopped. She pushed her way through the crush, tugging Lissa along behind. The platform was wall-to-wall stacked crates headed for docking arm A. It took a moment to find a path to the correct hallway. Luckily, Mirabilis’s berth was only a few slips from the dock entrance. All things considered, Karter was glad they’d stayed at the Lovelace only one night. It was hard enough to squeeze between autocarts, screaming children, and hovering freight platforms even without weighty luggage.
She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Chimera in such a state—and that included the infamous station-wide New Year’s party.
When they reached Mirabilis, Sal’s team was collecting the last of their gear and exiting the slip. Karter overheard their chatter. Apparently, there’d been an all hands early that morning. Every weapons-capable ship was being conscripted as an escort during the move to L-39. Most were hauling cargo.
Karter spied Sal at the end of the gangway, reviewing the last of the paperwork. They looked exhausted. A stained purple bandana partially covered their braids. The sleeves of their now-filthy coveralls were rolled up, exposing a series of botanical tattoos on both forearms. Karter spotted a beautifully rendered salamander among the foliage.
“Afternoon, Sal.” Karter set her overnight bag down.
“Well, look who’s here with plenty of time to spare.” Sal swiped through floating images of reports and forms to get to the approval page. “Ready to take your lady back?”
“You bet,” Karter said. “I missed my girl dearly.”
“The Lovelace must have downgraded since last I was there.” Sal scrolled down the image for her to read.
“Not one bit.” Lissa slipped in and gave Sal a hug.
“Careful,” Sal said. “I don’t want to get you all dirty.”
Glancing down at her freshly smudged coveralls, Lissa shook her head. “There are worse reasons to acquire stains on your clothes than hugging a friend. Thank you for the brownies. They were wonderful.”
“You’re very welcome,” Sal said. “Next time, I’ll remember the magic ingredients.”
Lissa said her goodbyes and headed up the gangway.
Karter authorized the payout with her palm print. “Thanks for doing all of this so fast. It’s a lot to ask.”
Sal scanned the crowds visible through the hatch behind her. “Speaking of fast, where in the Sam Hell is your pilot?”
“Last I saw them, they were too tired to stand up straight.” Karter shook her head. “What about you? How late were you up?”
“All night.” Sal deactivated the projection, and the reports vanished.
“I seriously don’t know how either of you did it.” Karter shook her head.
“I only stuck around for an hour or so,” Sal said. “Then I came back here. You could’ve joined us, you know. For one drink.”
“My mother taught me never to party with people who mix drinks in a turbine spinner.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Exchanged it for a healthy sense of mortality when I turned forty like every other responsible adult.”
“Responsibility is overrated.”
“So’s working for other people. I prefer to be my own boss.”
Sal nodded. “Wise.”
Ibis rushed into the slip. They dropped their bags and grabbed their knees, gasping.
“Well, well, well,” Sal said.
Still bent over, Ibis held up their index finger. “Don’t you start.”
“It’s a sad, sad day when a Mer can’t handle their liquor.” Sal made a disapproving tsk-tsk.
“That’s not it at all.” Ibis glared up at Sal. “I missed my tram stop. All the cars were too full. I had to run the whole way back, damn it.”
Sal poked a finger at Ibis. “You look like you got rode hard and put up wet.”
“Same could be said of you, my friend.” Ibis straightened and hugged Sal. “Thanks for hanging out.”
The two of them launched into a lengthy technical conversation regarding engine specs and what Ibis could and could not expect from the new modifications. Karter took it to mean that it was time for her to go, so she headed to her cabin. Ditching her baggage, she paused to check her messages and discovered nothing worth worrying about. Then she looked for Lissa, ultimately finding her in the galley with Ezi. They were continuing their medbot work.
A tall, pale brunette was in the galley filling a coffee mug. Karter didn’t recognize her. She checked for and found a comm file, then went to introduce herself.
“I’m Martina Morales,” the woman said. “Aggie sent me.”
“From Easley Hub?” Karter asked.
Martina, Ezi’s new nurse and project assistant, shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ve been briefed. I have an extensive background in AGI behavioral science, as well as a degree in medical robotics.”
“Nice to meet you.” Karter grabbed a fresh sugar spice bun from the bowl. “You know where we’re headed?”
Martina nodded.
“Thanks for volunteering.” Karter bit into the bun.
“No problem. Things were a bit dull at home anyway.” Martina returned to Ezi and Lissa, apparently resuming a previous conversation.
“How do you feel about a dogfight?” Ibis asked from the doorway.
Karter frowned. “Who says there’ll be a fight?”
“You didn’t check the news, did you?”
“I did.” Activating the galley’s projection screen, Karter scanned the headlines. “Last night.” Then she switched to the live feed. What she saw hit her like a punch. Gracelessly, she dropped onto a bench. She felt sick. “That’s just great.”
Glancing up, Lissa stopped what she was doing. “Oh.”
The last time Karter looked in on what was happening in L-39, there’d been three cruisers patrolling the area. Now, it appeared every affiliated ship was parked in the system. Space was big. It was impossible to cover the entire Border Sector, but with that many starships, you were as close as you could get.
She blew air out of her cheeks. “That does not look like any fun. At. All.”
“We can outrun those assholes,” Ibis said. “And the ones we can’t, I can dodge.” Their bravado lacked its usual enthusiasm.
Karter didn’t want to discourage the others. So she offered what encouragement she could. “Let’s hope so.” Ibis is good, but no one’s that good. Watching the image, she almost wished she was the type to beg powerful deities for favors. “We should take the back door nonetheless.”
“There’s no relay marker on the opposite side of L-39,” Ibis said. “Going the long way will take too much time. They’re sure to spot us.”
“If the engine mods give as much push as advertised, then we should be fine. Right?” Karter asked.
Lissa’s voice was quiet. “What about Chimera?”
Not our problem, Karter thought. “Mother has been around a long damned time. They know what they’re doing. Anyway, we have enough of our own worries. Don’t need to borrow other people’s.” She turned to Ibis. “Speaking of problems. How about that delivery?”
“Already on it,” Ibis said. “The last of the energy pods for the rail guns are being unloaded right now. Hold is almost full.”
“Weren’t all the auto carts booked?” Lissa asked.
“That’s why it took so long.” Ibis shrugged. “We’re good now. Heading aft to get things organized and tied down. I’m only here to grab coffee.” They poured the last of the pot into two ship’s mugs and handed one off.
Karter accepted the mug without looking away from the float image of L-39. Ibis left the galley.
“You think Gita is all right?” Karter asked Lissa. “It’s been a while. If Tau, Chu & Lane are down there, we’d have heard about it. Right?”
A careful expression settled on Lissa’s features. “Gita is very capable. And she’s not alone. She has Liv, Mandy, and Aoifa, too. They’ve gotten through worse. We all have.”
Some definition of gotten through. Karter remembered how their crew had been torn apart. The pain of losing not just Gita, but Dru, too, had been almost too much to bear. She’d become a better person since, or so she hoped. She wasn’t the same stubborn asshole intent on not forming attachments. If she got another chance, she’d fight to keep everyone together—she’d do whatever it took, show Gita that she could be counted on.
Even if that means admitting you were wrong. Right?
Suddenly, it occurred to Karter that she might not know who Gita was anymore. It had been more than two years. If I can change in that time, so can she. The Gita Karter had known was steadfast and loyal. It’d taken a lot to drive her away.
Karter sighed. So what? You fucked up. Everyone does. Apologize. Make up for it. And don’t ever do it again.
Most of all, Gita wasn’t in favor of violence as the answer to problems. Not that I am either. Well, not anymore anyway.
Karter served in the Terran Republic Navy from the time she’d turned eighteen until age twenty-four. The Terran Republic of Worlds hadn’t engaged in a war since a decade after its formation. Diplomacy, civil service, and exploration were what the navy was known for. War wasn’t even considered the fifth option, let alone the first. That said, Karter had seen exactly one battle, and that had been on Aggie’s order.
Stretching out the fingers of her right hand, Karter stared at the pale twisted lines sketched across the back and down the digits. The scars were deep. It’d been a miracle that she still had a hand. Since the incident wasn’t considered an official exchange, no one talked about it. Not even her. If they’d heard of the incident, they thought it’d been an accident because that was how it’d been reported. What it had been was an ambush. In the end, she’d lost a good friend. It had been the latest in what was for her a long line of losses. Something inside her had snapped.
After that, she’d gotten into a lot of fights. Some of them unnecessary—most, if she was entirely honest. She’d worked hard to change that about herself, and she had been damned successful, too—until that day with Gita.
Karter didn’t want to be in another fight.
“Are you okay?” Lissa asked.
“I’m good.” Karter shut off the projection. “How’s it going?”
Lissa lowered her voice. “Very well so far. We took a short break for a few snacks. Ezi, Martina, and I are headed back to Medical now. We’ll resume the work there.”
“Good. I’ll put us in the exit queue then. There are a lot of people ahead of us. Looks like it’ll take fifty minutes to get lined up for jump. Then we kick the tires and start the fires.”
Gita, Mandy, Liv, and Aoifa needed her. Karter’s scarred hand formed a fist as old anger threatened to flare up. Then she shook out the tension and left the galley.
In Command, she initiated the prelaunch safety checklists and added Mirabilis to the exit request queue. She’d gotten through the first half when a private comm inquiry appeared. She accepted and activated the floating screen.
Aggie was seated at her desk. Her elbows rested on its brushed-steel surface, and her left hand covered her right fist. Her expression was neutral.
“Thanks for sending Martina,” Karter said. “She’s already a big help.”
“Glad to hear it.” Aggie paused. “From here, it looks like you’re headed for a shitstorm.”
“Saw that.” Karter hoped Aggie wasn’t about to give her more bad news. “Has anyone told Mother?”
“They know. Been trying to talk them out of the move since I got the news. No dice.”
Karter asked, “You really aren’t planning to do anything?”
“Other than send you in? No. You know the rules.”
“Officially, you can’t do anything. But we both know that you do plenty of unofficial shit all the time. So fill me in.”
Aggie’s gaze slid to her left, and she made another noncommittal snort. “You know, it might not be a bad idea for you to take another route to L-39.”
Karter settled into the pilot’s couch. “There’s only one relay marker terminal I can access. The one near you. But that’s too far away.”
A ship could only spend so much time in subspace. The longer the distance, the more likely you hit the relay terminal with a dead crew—or worse. Which was why relay marker terminals were relays, connected like links in a chain.
“There may be another… option.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“I understand someone built a new NIA-side relay marker terminal. Not the one they replaced. A private one.”
Stunned, Karter blurted out the question before she thought it through. “How the fuck did you manage that?”
The expression on Aggie’s face was one of blasé denial. “Did I say I had anything to do with it?” She separated her hands and made a gesture with both palms up. “If TCL’s competitors decide to build a marker for access to a disputed sector, it’s their decision.”
She got one of Tau, Chu & Lane’s competitors to build a relay marker terminal in the last forty-eight hours? Karter gave the situation more consideration. They must’ve done that to contest TCL’s claim to L-39. Aggie didn’t build it. But she’s offering to hack it. “You have an access code for me?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Can you get it to me in about forty-five minutes?” Karter said.
“Probably.”
“That gets us to L-39 in time. It’ll be a huge help. Thanks.”
“Not so fast.” Aggie held up a hand. “First, that terminal is linked to a second marker. Or will be. An asteroid will provide cover for the last leg of your journey. That’s where I want you to wait for a signal. Then you make your run for the Ring.”
“Another marker? That’s a lot of construction. No one noticed?”
Aggie shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it. But then, they’re not terribly observant, in my experience.”
“Good to know,” Karter said. “Anything else? Like maybe a handy Maelstrom-class cruiser that accidentally drifted into L-39?”
“No Republic starship captain is that stupid.”
“Well, there’s me.”
“You’re not planning on drifting.” Aggie directed her gaze to the ceiling. “But you know how it is. Things happen in the crush. People get excited or distracted and lose track of where they are.”
Since the individuals in question were military, Karter very much doubted that. “I see.”
“Two more things.” Aggie returned her attention to the conversation. “First, I’ve some coordinates for you.”
“You found Gita? Where is she? Is everyone all right?”
Aggie held up both her hands, motioning again for silence. “Slow down.”
“Just how do you expect me to do that? She’s been missing for—”
“She’s on the Ring. We’re sure.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I wasn’t. Liv isn’t answering, and my drones can only get so close without violating the Norton Agreements. Also, there’s good reason to believe Ri is still there. A friend of a friend picked up some chatter.” Aggie folded her arms across her chest. “I want Ri and Liv back. And bring Wes Blankenship, too. Promises have been made. The kind I hate breaking.”
Karter nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”
“See that you do.” Aggie gave her that hard stare. “Last thing, there’s been a small change of plan. You’re not going to the mine site.”
“Oh?” Karter tried not to let her relief show.
“There’s a crate in your hold. It’s labeled Ezinne’s Birthday Present. Inside, you’ll find two drones. I want you to drop it over the site. It’ll signal you when the sample is ready. You’ll swing by and drop the second drone. That drone will collect and isolate the sample bot. Then it’ll come back to you.”
“Sounds a little complicated.”
“Maybe. But this way, the site gets shut down and sealed off and we get Ezinne’s sample the safest, fastest way possible.”
“Thanks,” Karter said.
“Be careful out there. There’s a lot riding on this.”
“I know.”
“No one who has been exposed to that virus can leave the Ring. We can’t have a second exposure vector. Understand?” An emotion passed over Aggie’s features. It was something that Karter didn’t recognize at first because she’d never seen it before.
Fear. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot.
“Guard that fucking sample. Make sure it’s secure. And don’t let it fall into NIA hands. You know why.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And just what the fuck would we be able to do about it? They’ve got a whole fleet out there.
“Karter?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
We’re going to need it. “Thanks. You, too.”
“Don’t let anything happen to you. I mean it.”
Karter blinked.
Two seconds passed before Aggie nodded and cut the connection. It was the closest she’d ever come to actually saying goodbye.
With that, Karter closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly released it in order to calm her nerves. Then she got to work.