JO-JO RASTEROVICH

 

Jo-Jo woke flailing and shouting from the worst of overheated, dehydrated alcohol dreams. He’d been in the mud crawling along between Rast Randall and her Capo and ahead of the balol like. Rast silently signalled an enemy sighting and rolled sideways under some thick reed. Jo-Jo threw himself in the other direction, colliding with the Capo. The pair grappled with each other to be the first to reach the cover of a fallen tree.

‘Get yer own,’ whispered the Capo.

Jo-Jo was so close to the man that his spit made him blink. So close that he could see every minute detail of the Capo’s face beneath the layer of grime. So close...

‘Wait!’ Jo-Jo sat upright. ‘I know who you...’

‘Shut the fuck up or they’ll hear you,’ the Capo hissed. He raised his fist to club Jo-Jo but Jo-Jo warded him off with his forearm.

‘I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!’ he shouted. ‘I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!’

And he did.

And then the sleep dropped away and he found himself sitting upright in bed, shaking and still shouting the words.

He dragged himself straight into the wash cubicle and sat there until the tremors subsided.

It gave him time to sort his brain out—think over things.

He was on a half-crazy, pining ‘zoon travelling though Extro space with a bunch of self-serving, edgy mercs.

Something new. Think, harder.

Rast Randall had strong feelings for Mira Fedor. Maybe as strong as his. That meant she must be feeling guilty as hell about losing Fedor. And worried. Jo-Jo could use that, and to a degree, he could trust it.

Slightly cheered, he went to the medi-lab and connected himself up to an IV of electrolytes. When the drip ran out he moved on to the cucina and forced himself to eat some bread and dried meat.

Better.

But the effort of the walk he then took up to the buccal almost had him vomiting up the food. And the shaking was back—though not as bad.

This time when he sank his fist into the pucker it opened.

Rast was reclining in the sink they called Secondo. She didn’t appear surprised to see him but her hand drifted to the weapon on her lap.

‘Let’s talk,’ said Jo-Jo.

She sat more upright at that, eyes narrow and suspicious. ‘Shoot.’

‘Tell me the situation out there.’ He lifted his head to indicate outside.

Rast chewed her lip before replying. ‘From what I can tell we’re heading to the outer reaches of Saiph. ‘Zoon’s sticking close to a bunch of freighters. Think it’s trying to muddy up its signatures.’

‘Makes sense.’

‘Lots of activity around the system, especially back near Rho Junction. My Extro space nav isn’t exactly sharp though.’

“Zoon’s got a connection with the Baronessa—maybe it knows where she is,’ said Jo-Jo.

‘I’m banking on it. And on the fact that it’ll let us do our thing when the time comes.’

What’s your thing? Jo-Jo wanted to shout at the merc. Desert two vulnerable women? But he bit the words back. He needed information and commitment. He wouldn’t get that from the likes of Rast Randall by being antagonistic.

His legs began to tremble, forcing him to sit down on the edge of the Autonomy nub.

‘Looks like you’ve just trashed a kidney and a liver,’ observed Rast.

‘Gotta get my HealthWatch upgraded. Forgotten what a real hangover was like.’ That was true. Jo-Jo had never felt this bad from drink before.

‘Yeah. Never know what you might pick up—the places you frequent.’

Jo-Jo hunched, not seeing the lighter side. ‘I’ve been thinking over some stuff. Strikes me there’s a lot of things that seem connected that shouldn’t be and I’m wondering why.’

Rast cocked an eyebrow and waited.

‘The Lostol getting on that ship with Berniere and Bethany on Rho Junction—I know him. His name’s Tekton. He’s a tyro to the Entity on Belle-Monde.’

Rast’s mouth fell open. ‘‘That was Tekton?’

‘You heard of him?’

‘Fedor says he’s the one who’s been buying up the quixite on Araldis. Carnage mentioned him too. You had some shit go down with him... something about a Hera contract.’

‘Shit’s the word for it,’ said Jo-Jo grimly.

‘So what’s he doin’ with Beth and the idiot scholar?’

‘Heading back to Akouedo, I’m guessing. That can’t mean anything good. Carnage and Tekton...’ Jo-Jo shook his head, imagining the consequences of a partnership between the Commander and the tyro. He regathered himself. ‘You told me before that your allegiances are your own. You stand by that?’

Rast nodded and gave him a keen look. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Stuff is happening... I keep thinking that I’m understanding it, and then something else happens.’

‘Yer not making much sense, man.’

‘You heard of a Dynamic System Device?’

Rast returned to chewing on her lip, taking her time to answer. ‘Maybe. Thought that stuff was mostly made- up... DSD—wasn’t that someone’s idea of predicting patterns?’

Jo-Jo tapped his head. ‘You’ve supped a bit then.’

Rast folded her arms. ‘As you do... when you get an education,’ she finished sarcastically.

‘No offence,’ said Jo-Jo, relieved he didn’t have to explain from scratch. ‘Most mercs—’

‘Yeah, yeah, so what about it?’

‘Carnage Farr’s got one. A DSD. Saw it in virtual. He proved it by showing me some things. One of them was you wallowing in mud on some craphole during the war—’

‘Longthrow?’

‘Dunno—probably. You were with your Capo and a balol.’

Rast’s eyes widened. ‘Jancz and like.’

Jancz. So that was his real name. Not Jed. ‘You tripped a land mine.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘Saw it. Farr buys information to fuel his DSD. Combat records. Everything. And he’s got eges everywhere, recording.’ Jo-Jo glanced around the buccal. ‘He’s probably got them in here.’

‘OK. So what’s your point?’

‘I was drinking in a bar on Dowl—followed Tekton there. Got talking to a female balol. Kinda thought I might enjoy some rough trade for a change.’

Rast sniggered. ‘like?’

‘Yeah. She did her thing, while her friend—Jed he called himself—did his. He framed me up for importing an illegal uuli species. Problem was the judge had a grudge against me already. Anyway... to cut it short... Tekton’s down there buying up quixite to help his cause on Belle-Monde. Meanwhile your Capo—Jed or Jancz or whatever he calls himself—steals my ship.’

‘When was that?’

Jo-Jo gave her approximates.

Rast thought for a few moments. ‘Jancz and like were down on Araldis a while after that. I saw them when we were trapped in Ipo. Maybe they used your hybrid ‘zoon to bring in the Saqr. They were running the show down there—no doubt about that.’

‘Why didn’t you let him know you were there? Sounds like he coulda got you out of that tight spot.’

Rast—almost imperceptibly—raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t know mercs, do you, Rasterovich?’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you get hired by someone then all bets are off. You might have worked with a guy on a previous job—turns out he’s your enemy the next time round.’

‘Yeah, yeah, Randall—I know the patter. But what’s it really like? You telling me you’d kill someone who’d been your Capo?’

Randall gave him a level stare. ‘In a breath. A real short one.’

A moment passed between them as the mercenary let Jo-Jo glimpse past the bravado and the jokes. He didn’t like what he saw.

‘So who was your ex-Capo hired by to bring the Saqr to Araldis?’

‘Dunno,’ said Rast. ‘Been working my grey matter overtime on that one since I first saw them. Could be anyone... but... I’m leaning a couple of directions.’

‘Tekton?’

‘No. The timing’s wrong. And according to Fedor, Tekton’s deal had been done. He’d already paid for the mineral.’

‘Who’d want large amounts of quixite bad enough to torch a planet?’ asked Jo-Jo.

But before Rast could volunteer an answer, the ‘zoon emitted an unnerving howl as if a ferocious wind blew along its strata.

‘What the—’

An image flickered into existence above the Primo vein—a corduroy-filtered representation of the space around the ‘zoon showing a cluster of ships closing on a small pulsing sphere of lights.

‘Thought so,’ said Rast. ‘It’s another shift point.’ She lunged over to the Autonomy nub, elbowing Jo-Jo aside to reach the intercom. ‘Lat, Catchut. Find a tubercle. We’re shifting again,’ she bellowed.

Then she threw herself back into her sink. ‘Buckle up, we’re going in rough.’

Jo-Jo saw what she meant, the ‘zoon’s iconic representation of space showed its trajectory towards the edge of the sphere. Imperfect Shift again. He’d done IS a few times—last time was getting out of Dowl. It was like being squeezed through a fine-meshed sieve.

Where was a bottle of Oort whisky when you needed it?

Jo-Jo slid back into the Autonomy seat and the restraints and the vibration smothers activated. This one was gonna be a total bitch.

He gave one last look at the centre of shift-space. So many ships trying to enter and exit through one point. Maybe it was as well they weren’t going through Proper Shift. But why so many? Why now?

Randall grunted from Secondo. ‘Funny sort of config around the shift point. Looks to me like we’re in for some...’

Jo-Jo flicked his eyes to Rast Randall. She was hunkered down in her vein, almost indistinguishable from the sink tissue that had slithered over her, other than the outline of her boots and the mound of her breasts.

‘What?’Jo-Jo rasped. ‘Strife.’

The word planted itself in Jo-Jo’s mind as the ‘zoon went into Imperfect Shift.

Strife. Strife. Striiiffe.

It sounded over and over and over; in every possible intonation, volume, and in ways that turned it into something much more than a word.

It hammered at his temples, drilled through his ears, cascaded and crashed upon and crushed his chest, ripped strips from his skin. He cried like a baby trying to block out the sound and the sensation with his own noise but it clung to him, sticky and cutting and deeply...

 

* * *

 

‘Rasterovich!’ Rough hands shook him. ‘Quit howling.’

A whiff of something strong and a stinging slap to his... face. Yes. He knew that much. Someone had hit him.

‘Lemme piss on him,’ offered someone else.

Jo-Jo’s eyes fluttered open and his hand rose automatically to protect his face. ‘Piss on me and I’ll k—’

Laughter cut him off. Randall and Catchut. Clutching their sides.

‘Always works, Capo.’ Catchut guffawed again. Tubercle slime had stained his face an unhealthy colour. He was bent over as though there was pain beneath the laughter. Rast looked much the same, vein, goo flaking off her skin.

Jo-Jo blinked a few times until the blur retreated a bit. His head was fugged and buzzing at the same time.

‘You got shift hysteria,’ said Randall.

Jo-Jo swallowed to see if everything was working. ‘Don’t handle that kinda shift well when I’m sober.’

‘Yeah—or maybe it’s yer bingeing that messed with you.’

Jo-Jo scowled. He wasn’t interested in a lecture on sobriety from a merc. ‘So where the fuck are we?’

She pointed to the space above the Primo vein where a brand new set of images floated.

‘Extro space,’ said Rast. ‘For real this time.’