As she neared the shuttle’s tail, the main doors into the bay slid open. Cara flattened against the floor, watching a squad of Andersonian soldiers press into the opening. They were all flushed, as if they’d been running.
The mech paused in the middle of its patrol, rotating its four guns to orient on the squad.
Cara blinked, not believing what she was seeing. Surely it had a safeguard against friendly fire?
The soldiers in the entrance had their rifles up, probably expecting fire as soon as the door opened. Several were aligning their sights on the mech.
Seizing the opportunity, Cara rolled back toward the nose of the shuttle until she was looking between the bot’s armored legs. From that vantage, she slid her rifle up and fired on the soldiers in the doorway.
Return fire barked immediately, glancing off the mech’s armor.
Cara gritted her teeth, hoping nothing would hit the shuttle.
The combat machine planted its legs and opened fire with all four guns on the doorway. The soldiers fell back. Someone Cara couldn’t see at the back of the group tossed a grenade.
In response, the mech stopped firing and charged the door.
The grenade hit the deck and rolled toward the tail of the shuttle.
Spinning on her stomach, Cara grabbed her pulse pistol and fired on the grenade, sending it rolling toward the far wall of the bay. She swallowed, counting to three before the projectile exploded and shredded a nearby crate. The shuttle rocked on its landing struts, and then stilled.
The mech was completely focused on the other doorway now. Dead soldiers lay scattered near its feet, but the rest had fallen back around a corner. The corridor was too small for the thing, and it kept making small adjustments to the right or left to fire.
Though it was focused on the corridor, Cara knew she wouldn’t get past its rear sensors without another diversion. As she figured out what to do, she sent the shuttle a control request across the Link and received a quick handshake. All systems were nominal. She opened the side hatch wide enough for her to slip through.
The mech continued to hammer the doorway. The metal walls were bent nearly a meter outward.
Sliding toward the mech, Cara calculated how quickly she could kick out from under the shuttle, get to her feet, and dash for the open hatch.
She wouldn’t be fast enough.
Taking one of the grenades from her bandolier, she set it for a quick fuse and waited, timing the mech’s attacks on the opening.
The beast hunkered down for another machine gun barrage. It would take a few seconds at least to rise from that position, if it caught on to the fact that the grenade had arrived from its rear.
With a sideways throw, Cara sent the grenade arcing toward the mech. The black orb made it just past the bot’s right leg when it exploded.
Cara scrambled out from under the shuttle and sprinted for the hatch. Behind her, the mech stumbled to one side, vibrating as sections of its leg malfunctioned. More fire burst from the corridor, peppering the deck behind Cara.
Grabbing at the ladder, she threw herself inside the shuttle and turned to hit the hatch release.
Without waiting to see if the door closed, Cara clambered into the pilot’s seat and set the engines to ready mode. Systems were still reporting operative status. No punctures in the hull or misalignments caused by the close explosions.
She set the holodisplay to show the bay, and a small model of the shuttle appeared with the mech half in the doorway beside it. The mech lay on its side and appeared to be trying to rotate one of its guns toward the shuttle, while taking heavier fire from the corridor. Another grenade rolled under its pinned side.
Pulling up the lift controls, Cara sent the bay a release request.
Nothing happened.
Dammit, she cursed. She sent the request again, and an error code came back.
The lift was jammed by the smashed door. Until the door error cleared, the lift wasn’t going to operate.
Cara stared at the console, running through her options. She thought back to the approach and landing, remembering everything about how she had brought the shuttle in.
The overhead doors.
Cara added the local schematic to the holodisplay and zoomed out. Now she could see the two sections making up the domed ceiling of the bay. Scanning the control layout, she isolated the systems operating those doors, which weren’t supposed to release unless the lift was at surface level. Multiple safety systems blocked the opening of those doors while the lift was at habitat level.
Drawing on everything Petral and Fugia had ever taught her, she skipped through maintenance controls and power systems until she had killed power to the lock mechanism and overwhelmed the control servos. The last systems to kill were the environmental safety sensors, which would scream bloody murder once she opened the lift to vacuum.
Cara executed a hastily built command.
There was a pause, and she thought she had missed something that was overriding her hack. Then multiple alarms roared to life as atmospheric integrity in the bay failed.
In the holodisplay, the glowing doors cracked and opened wide, releasing a plume of atmosphere out over the Lunar surface.
Applying all thrust to the belly-mounted attitude controls, Cara popped the shuttle out of the lift tube. It took another burst of the belly thrusters to clear it. The craft rose over the surface, proximity alarms squealing in response to several targeting locks from point-defense cannons around the compound.
In another second, she fired the main engine at full burn, and shot straight off the surface of Luna. A field of stars filled her forward viewscreen.
Cara relaxed into the g-force, letting the seat enfold her.
It felt damn good to be headed back into the black.
SIXTEEN SECONDS
STELLAR DATE: 3.22.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Parthan Shipping Yards, New Austin
REGION: Luna, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
Rondo sat with his back against the inside wall of an insulated shipping container, watching Adama devour a protein disc. The cat hunched down and jutted his neck out as he took bites, then scanned the room beyond Rondo as he ate.
The container had been an easy hack and gave them a place to stay, for a few hours at least. It was part of the bottom tier of a wall of containers in the back of a vast parking warehouse for outbound cargo. Drones navigated the ceiling above him, selecting and dropping containers like a giant puzzle game. Rondo had suppressed the location beacon on this container, but that didn’t mean others around it wouldn’t move.
Collecting his thoughts, he considered the chain of events that had brought him into contact with Jentry and embroiled him in the apparent assassination attempt on the Andersonian chancellor. He was fairly certain Fugia had meant for him to get to know Sylvia. There was no guarantee that Jentry had ever been a part of the equation.
Turning the Link scanner in his hand, Rondo debated calling in. Fugia hadn’t told him what she wanted with the device, and once events got rolling with Jentry, he’d been too caught up in the idea that he was there to assist with the covert operation.
The fact was, he’d been a rube. There had been nothing protecting him if he’d been picked up by Lunar security, the New Austin Police, or worse, the Andersonians.
Rondo berated himself as he studied the Link-scanning bracelet, then picked up Adama to stroke him in his lap.
Adama complained and slithered back to his position in front of his dinner.
Sylvia’s lack of interest in spending any more time with him only reinforced his suspicion that he’d been used and let down easy.
Rondo chewed his lip. In any other situation, he would have been a bear negotiating with deer. He never would have let his guard down. His desire to impress Sylvia had dulled his senses.
Why had Fugia placed him in that situation?
No. Fugia wouldn’t have done that to him. There was more here. There had been a distinct insinuation that J
entry had some kind of leverage over Sylvia. He wanted to help her.
Still, if Rondo contacted Fugia, he knew what she would ask: Did you get my Link scanner? Yes? Then what more is there?
“Here’s the thing, Cat-friend,” he told Adama. “It hurts to feel used. I burned a perfectly good node that I had set up just the way I like, even if it was on Luna. I met an interesting woman, and she played ancient music on an artifact she’d repaired. How often does that sort of thing happen?”
He brooded for another few hours, listening to the crates crashing around him. Adama purred in his lap.
A connection request hit his Link, and Rondo studied it with irritation. It was Fugia.
He scratched Adama’s ears. “That’s the thing about Fugia. If you don’t call her, she’s going to get hold of you. Sometimes I think she’s got my neural net bugged. That’s not bear behavior, Adama. That’s snake behavior.”
Fugia wasn’t a snake though. She was more like a sharp-toothed mammal. Maybe a fox or a small badger.
“Badger behavior,” he decided. “Absolutely.”
Rondo stretched his shoulders and pulled a meal bar from his pocket. Taking a bite, he allowed the connection.
<What took you so long?> Fugia asked. <You didn’t send an update about the scanner. Did you get it?>
<I got it,> Rondo said, sulking.
<What’s the matter with you?>
Rondo told her what had happened after he met Sylvia, up to the assassination attempt.
<Let me get this straight,> Fugia said. <Are you upset that this TSF agent almost killed the Andersonian chancellor, or that you don’t get a second date with Sylvia?>
<Why not both?>
<The Rondo I know wouldn’t care much about a politician getting shaken up a bit. You know Osla is alive, right? Cara got him out of the room. I’m tracking them on Tranquility Sector right now.>
<Cara was in the room, too?> Rondo asked. <I wasn’t there. I couldn’t see who might have been under attack. This is bad business. If I had known Cara was going to be there, I never would have got involved. I know how much she means to you.>
<How were you supposed to know she would be there?> He could all but see her scowl in his mind.
<Hasn’t everything we’ve been doing led her to the Anderson Collective? I haven’t figured out your plan, but it certainly seems to be pointing toward regime change for the Collective.>
<I wouldn’t be heartbroken if that happened, but it’s not my goal. I’ve been working to flush out a Psion AI who appears to be working with the Humanity First goons, who are aligned with the Anderson Collective.>
<But the Collective hates AIs,> Rondo said. <And so does Humanity First. This doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure you aren’t getting played?>
<Back up and think through that question again,> Fugia said. <Have I been played in my life? Sure. However, if Randal Harrin of Humanity First ever plays me, please put a bullet in my skull. Humanity First doesn’t know they’re working for an SAI. That’s the irony of all this.>
Rondo turned the bracelet in his hands as he listened.
<What I want to know,> he said finally, <is if you set me up with these TSF agents. Did you know Sylvia was associated with them?>
<Of course not,> Fugia said. <I thought you and Sylvia might hit it off. Did you?>
<She’s amazing,> Rondo said. <But I don’t think she likes me.>
<It’s not a matter of liking, Rondo. You’re an animal, right? Sometimes you have to show some animal passion.>
He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. <She didn’t seem like that kind of woman.>
<You are completely wrong.>
<It doesn’t matter anyway,> he said. <I got caught up in their job. She doesn’t want to see me again. I also blew the node. I was being followed.>
<Wait. Why didn’t you say that? Who was following you?> Fugia demanded.
<I don’t know. I think he was Andersonian.>
<Oh, this changes things, Rondo. If Camaris knows you’re on Luna, she’s going to track it back to me. I don’t want that to happen.>
Rondo grunted. <You should have told me that. I haven’t exactly been hiding.>
<I didn’t want to worry you.>
<I’m more worried about hordes of Andersonians coming after me for the assassination attempt than hordes of Psion AI,> he said.
<The Andersonians do have a good-sized army on Luna.>
<That’s a rumor.>
<I have reason to believe it’s no rumor,> Fugia said.
<Are you going to elaborate, or just keep dropping vague bits of information and expect me to accept it at face value?>
Fugia made a surprised sound. <Who pissed in your soup? Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?>
<No,> Rondo said petulantly.
<Then what are you angry about?>
<I’m angry at the TSF agent for tricking me into helping him.>
Fugia laughed, not unkindly. <You were trying to impress Sylvia.>
<Yes.>
<So get back at him. You’re a data hoarder. You’ve got skills. What was his name?>
<Jentry Price.>
<Hmm. Doesn’t sound familiar. Did you already look him up?>
<Not yet.>
<You’ve been too busy moping. I’m surprised Adama let you get away with that.>
Rondo picked up Adama and held him out so he could touch noses with the sleepy cat. Adama flexed his claws and made a low growl.
“Fine,” Rondo said, settling Adama back down in his lap. He petted him as he considered Fugia’s response about Jentry.
Did he want to get back at the agent? What would that mean exactly, and would it get in the way of his actual goal of seeing Sylvia again?
He had also been itching to get back on the Mesh. Rondo didn’t plan on staying on Luna, and if he was going to set up another storage node, he would need to find a suitable lair. Setting up a lair meant he needed funds.
Sure, he had plenty of financial resources stashed around InnerSol, and a few in the JC, but he liked to make each new location self-supporting. This meant finding a place like the abandoned mining company and hacking its residual systems; mothballed military installations or private warehouse facilities where he could tap into nascent systems without arousing suspicion. Setting up such a location was part of the challenge.
<Yeah,> he said. <Yeah, I want to get back at that guy. It’s not like I care about the Andersonians. I just don’t want them creating chaos for everybody. I think Psion’s more likely to do that, honestly.>
<You said you thought Camaris was on Luna?>
<I know she’s on Luna.>
<She’s physically on Luna?> Rondo pressed.
<Yes,> Fugia said. <Physically.>
<Why would she do that, though? She doesn’t have to.>
<Trust me on this one,> Fugia said.
<It’s Cara, isn’t it? Why?>
<It took me a while to put it together, but it makes perfect sense. It’s partially our fault. We got Cara to Luna. We planted some disruption with the method, and I’ll be able to explain more of that later. But the foundation of the story is that we handed her to the Andersonians. Like I told you, I think Camaris is supporting the Humanity Firsters, who are aligned with the Andersonians. Those are all disruption operations aimed at SolGov. Simple stuff. But what it all boils down to is that Camaris wants Lyssa the Weapon Born. And who does Lyssa care about most?>
<Cara,> Rondo said. <Everyone knows that. Shit, it was on all the newsfeeds when they fought on that roof.>
<Exactly.>
Their Link conversation fell idle as Rondo chewed on the various bits of information Fugia had shared. He wanted to do something to Jentry, and find a new place to make a home, despite the fact that he wanted to see Sylvia again.
“Stupid contradictory desires,” he muttered.
A new connection request came as he was frowning at the opposite wall.
&
nbsp; <I need to go, Fugia,> he said. <I’m getting another call.>
<You could keep me on, you know. I’ve heard the Link has allowed that for the last six hundred years or something.>
<It’s Jentry,> Rondo said. <I’ll report back in.>
<Fine,> she said. <Don’t go assassinating anyone for him again.>
<I didn’t do it the first time.>
<Not for lack of trying,> she said, and signed off.
Rondo hit the floor of the shipping crate with a balled fist, and Adama perked up, looking at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rondo said. “Just failing to control my anger.”
<Jentry,> Rondo said, answering the request. <I didn’t expect to hear from you again.>
The TSF agent spoke with his usual blend of cocky humor.
<I was worried the Andersonians had grabbed you, my giant friend. I would pay to see that fight, by the way. Since you didn’t check in after you were clear, we haven’t known your status. I take it you’re still in one piece?>
<I’m fine,> Rondo said, doing his best to keep an even tone. <I would have appreciated more info about the job we were doing.>
<What do you mean?> Jentry asked. <I explained your job, and you performed it admirably. What more do you need to know? What more do you want to know? Are you suddenly concerned about Sol politics? Trust me, the subject will give you headaches. It gives me headaches. You’ll be much happier if you compartmentalize. Compartments all the way, my friend.>
Rondo visualized jamming Jentry into a small compartment and sealing the lid shut.
<I’m not an assassin,> Rondo grumbled.
<Oh, you’re talking about the group that crashed the Andersonians’ party? I don’t know anything about that. Completely different people.>
<Don’t lie to me.>
<How about we don’t get into it then, because it’s hard to talk about anything political without lying.>
<What do you want, then?>
Jentry laughed. <You are not one for small talk, are you? Now that I know you’re all right and still in serviceable condition, so to speak, I’ve got another job. You interested?>
<You haven’t paid me for the assassination.>