Marce motioned toward Chat. “What are you going to do with him?”
“I’m going to encourage him to talk.”
“That’s not going to work.”
“You know nothing of my methods.”
“He’s trained not to talk.”
“He was also trained to kill, and look how he fucked that up.”
“I want to be there when you question him.”
“No you don’t.”
“I really do.”
“Let me put it another way, Lord Marce. Fuck you, go away.”
“He almost killed me. I think I deserve to know why.”
“And maybe I’ll tell you, later. But for now, if you don’t fuck off, right this second, I’m going to stab you myself. And none of these security guys are going to put a bolt into me, I guarantee you that.”
Marce looked like he was going to say something else, then shook his head and walked off.
“Your people skills are admirable,” Pinton said to Kiva.
“Fuck you, too,” Kiva said.
Pinton smiled at that and pointed at Chat, secured and ready for transport. “He’s right, you know. This one’s not going to talk. They’re trained to resist aggressive questioning.”
“‘Aggressive questioning’?”
“That’s the euphemism we used for torture in the imperial service, ma’am.”
“Just fucking call it torture, then.”
“My point is he’s been trained to deal with whatever humans can do to him.”
“We can do better than humans,” Kiva said.
* * *
“He’s coming to,” Pinton said, some time later.
“Turn on the speaker,” Kiva said. Pinton pressed the button to open a channel. “Good morning, fuckface,” she said, to Chat.
Chat looked at his surroundings. “Where am I?” he asked.
“You’re in a service airlock, in an EVA suit,” Kiva said. “Well, most of one, anyway. You might have noticed you’re missing a helmet.”
“I noticed,” Chat said.
“Good. So, this is the deal. You tell us everything we ask you questions about, and don’t give us any shit about it, and I don’t purge you out the airlock without that fucking helmet.”
Chat looked exasperated, confused, and tired. “Look, I don’t even know what’s going o—”
Kiva pressed the “Emergency Purge” command. The airlock door burst open and Chat was sucked out into space.
“Well, that was quick,” Pinton said.
“I told you I don’t fuck around,” Kiva replied. She pressed the “Emergency Retrieve” button. The winch that held the cord attached to the EVA suit slammed into overdrive, reeling the suit back in, triple-time. “Anyway. So how long can a human live in hard vacuum?”
“Maybe a minute, if he didn’t hold his breath.”
“He was talking,” Kiva said. “He didn’t have time to hold his breath.”
Less than a minute later Chat was back inside the airlock, which was fully pressurized with an oxygen-rich mixture. A minute after that Chat was awake, coughing and vomiting. He looked up at the airlock camera with hemorrhaged eyeballs. Pinton opened the communication circuit again.
“So, here’s the deal,” Kiva repeated. “You tell us everything we ask you questions about, and you don’t give us any shit about it, and I don’t purge you out of the airlock without that fucking helmet. I’m not going to repeat myself again. You fuck with me and you die. Got it?”
Chat croaked and nodded.
“Can you talk yet?”
Chat held up a gloved finger as if to say Give me a second.
“How about now?” Kiva asked, ten seconds later.
Chat looked up through bloodshot eyes with an expression that said You have to be fucking kidding me, but nodded.
“You’re Chat Ubdal.”
Nod.
“You came onto this ship under false pretenses.”
Nod.
“You work for Ghreni Nohamapetan.”
Nod.
“Who sent you out on this ship.”
Nod.
“To kill Marce Claremont.”
Chat held up a hand and made a wiggling motion. Sorta.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Chat tried to make words, stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “Not primary goal,” he managed to croak.
“What was your primary goal?”
“Take him alive.”
“How the fuck were you going to take him alive? You can’t leave the fucking ship!”
Chat looked at the airlock door and then back at the camera, as if to say, Oh, really.
“You can’t leave the ship alive, then, you enormous asshole.”
“Pirates,” Chat croaked.
“Oh, shit,” Kiva said, looking over at Pinton.
“The pirates aren’t coming for our cargo,” Pinton said. “They’re a shuttle service.”
“But we could get away from the pirates,” Kiva said, back to Chat. “Maybe.”
Chat shook his head. “Bomb,” he said.
“A bomb?” Kiva was incredulous. “You were going to put a fucking bomb on this ship?” Chat nodded. “How does blowing up the fucking ship serve your purpose?”
Chat shook his head and tried talking but he was trying to make too many words and choked to a stop.
“Let me try,” Pinton said, and leaned over so Chat could hear him. “You weren’t going to blow up the ship, were you? You were just going to disrupt the ship’s systems enough that it couldn’t get into the Flow.”
Chat nodded and pointed to the camera, as if to say, You got it.
“That’s why he was touring those particular corridors,” Pinton said, to Kiva. “He was looking for the right place to put the thing.”
“And he didn’t think we would notice? Blinnikka would space him the second he did that.”
“We’d have to deal with the explosion and damage first, and then there would be pirates and we’d be too busy to worry about him for a while. I suspect he intended to leave on the pirate ship, along with Claremont.”
“And how would he get a bomb on the fucking ship anyway? Don’t we fucking screen for that?”
“It’s probably not a big bomb,” Pinton said. “He could probably make it on the ship.” Pinton leaned back over. “If we go through your personal effects, we’re going to find bomb components disguised as toiletries and sundries, yes?”
Chat nodded.
“There you go,” Pinton said.
“This motherfucker,” Kiva said. “I want to space him just on principle.”
“Microphone,” Pinton said, pointing.
Kiva realized she was close enough to the open circuit that Chat heard that last comment. She looked at the screen to see him with a concerned expression on his face. She rolled her eyes and leaned in again. “I’m not going to kill you, you miserable shitfuck. Unless you stop talking. Or croaking. Or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing at the moment. Just keep doing it.” Chat nodded. Kiva turned to Pinton. “Turn that thing off for a second.”
Pinton slapped closed the communication circuit. “What is it?”
“Something’s not right about this,” Kiva said.
“None of it is right,” Pinton said. “This is all highly fucked up, ma’am.”
“No, I mean—” Kiva pointed at Chat, who was waiting, looking up at the camera. “He wants to bring Claremont back, and he’s willing to damage the ship to do it. Ghreni is willing to deal with fucking pirates to bring him back.”
“You said that Lord Ghreni tried holding him hostage to get those imperial funds released. Maybe he just really needs them.”
“Yeah, okay, but shithole here,” Kiva motioned again toward Chat, “tried to kill him once he realized he was trapped and found out. If he couldn’t bring him back, he needed to kill him. But if he killed him, then he couldn’t use him as a fucking hostage, now, could he? So what was the fucking point? Why did Ghreni go thr
ough all this effort? What’s the reason?”
“You got me,” Pinton said.
“Yeah. Open that circuit.” Pinton turned it back on. “Important question, Chat. If I don’t believe you, your lungs are coming out through your nose. You got it?”
Chat nodded.
“Why does your boss want Marce Claremont so fucking bad?”
“Don’t know,” Chat croaked.
“Your fucking lungs, Chat.”
“I. Don’t. Know,” Chat said again, so emphatically the last word came out as a wheeze. “I thought ransom. But makes no sense.”
“Because you were told to kill him if you couldn’t bring him back alive.”
Chat nodded.
“Well, can’t you fucking guess?” Kiva asked. “You work directly with Ghreni. You have to have heard something. You have to be able to speculate.”
Chat shook his head. “Doesn’t talk. Unless involved, nothing.”
“You’re involved, Chat.”
“To do. Not for why.”
Kiva nodded to Pinton again, and he closed the circuit. “Well?” she asked him.
“I think he’s telling the truth.”
“I know the fucker is telling the truth,” Kiva said. “I want to know what you think we do now.”
“Well, we don’t space him,” Pinton pointed at Chat. “He’s been cooperative.”
“Hard vacuum will do that.”
“So he’s not a problem anymore. But we still have the pirates on their way. And if Lord Ghreni was willing to go this far to get Claremont back, then you have to figure he has a plan for if Chat here failed.”
“You mean the pirates are going to either come away with their prize or make sure he’s dead.”
“Yes.”
“And if we all happen to die too, then that’s just the way it goes.”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, shit, Pinton,” Kiva said. She looked back to Chat. “I guess we better give them what they want.”
Chapter
12
Marce’s tablet pinged with the command for him to report to Nubt Pinton, the Yes, Sir’s head of security. He briefly considered not responding to the order, but then did anyway, moving through the ship with a gradually increasing awareness of and comfort with his surroundings. Because the ship was under acceleration at the moment, the ship’s artificial gravity was more push fields than ring rotation, and Marce felt pressed down. But he noticed that it was bothering him less even a couple of days in. A body could get used to it, it seemed.
Nubt Pinton was in the Yes, Sir’s brig, a small and unhappy room with even smaller and more unhappy cells, inside one of which was Chat Ubdal. Marce looked in at Chat, who looked back, balefully.
“He’s a mess,” Marce said.
“Yes, well. Lady Kiva tossed him out an airlock,” Pinton answered.
“You threw him into space?”
“Yup.”
“And he didn’t die?”
“We only threw him out a little bit.”
Marce looked again at Chat, whose eyeballs looked spray-painted red. “I almost feel sorry for him.”
“Don’t get too broken up, Lord Marce. He’d still murder you if he had a chance.”
“You asked to see me, sir,” Marce said, turning away from Chat.
“I did. I needed to get a good look at you.”
“All right. Why?”
“We’re being tailed by pirates. Your would-be assassin here tells us that their plan is to take you off the ship. We suspect that if they can’t manage that they’d rather destroy the Yes, Sir than let you escape. We could fight them but if their goal is to blow us up rather than board us then our options are limited.”
“Are you planning to turn me over?”
“If I were planning that I wouldn’t be talking to you. I would have had you stunned when you weren’t looking and then prepped you for delivery.”
“Good to know.”
Pinton nodded. “What I need from you is your willingness to help us save ourselves, and save you, and in the process maybe cause a little pain to these pirates, and the people behind them.”
“You mean Ghreni Nohamapetan.”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I’m in.”
“It won’t be entirely risk free for you.”
“I don’t care. I’m in.”
“Good.”
“How do we do this?”
Pinton pointed to Chat. “The first thing we do is make it look like this one was successful.”
“In killing me?”
“In planting a bomb that was meant to keep us from entering the Flow. Once we do that we’re pretty sure the pirates are going to hail us and discuss their terms.”
“What’s the second thing?” Marce asked.
“Well,” Pinton said. “Have you noticed that you and Chat here are roughly the same size and coloration?”
“Not really, no.”
“Well, I have.”
* * *
The fake bomb “went off” a half hour later, and the Yes, Sir sent a general unencrypted distress call toward Imperial Station to let it know of its predicament. The idea would be to make the station aware an event happened and that the station should prep rescue and retrieval efforts, to be deployed if and when the Yes, Sir followed up with an even more dire distress call. The drawback was that even the fastest imperial cutters would be more than a day out. The Yes, Sir was alone, save for the one small ship trailing it, now only a few hours out from intercept.
Which hailed the Yes, Sir, as expected, shortly after the distress call went out.
“Free freighter Red Rose, hailing Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby,” the hail said. Marce heard it on the bridge, where he and Kiva Lagos stood in a corner, staying out of the way but needing to hear what happened next.
“Lagos fiver Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby, responding,” said Drean Musann, Yes, Sir’s communications officer.
“We understand you’re experiencing an event. Permission to come aside and assist.”
“The captain thanks you for your willingness to assist but says no assistance is required at this time. Please maintain current distance.”
“We are concerned that should a further event occur we would not be able to properly assist. Moving to come alongside.”
“Red Rose, the captain once again thanks you but wishes to inform you that our concern for the well-being of your ship in the event of a further incident compels us to again request you maintain your current distance.”
“We thank your captain for the concern, but feel the risk is worth taking. Moving to assist.”
“That’s enough foreplay,” Blinnikka said to Musann.
“Yes, sir,” Musann said, then turned back to her console. “Red Rose, Captain Blinnikka formally requests we cut the shit and just get to it.”
There was a pause. “Copy that,” came the response, a moment later. “Please stand by.”
Blinnikka turned to Kiva Lagos. “How are we on preparations?”
“Busy as the proverbial fucking bee,” Kiva said.
Blinnikka nodded, glanced at Marce, and then turned his attention back to his command screen.
In spite of everything, Marce was thrilled. It was his first time on a command deck of any sort, and the calm professionalism of the Yes, Sir bridge crew in the face of what could reasonably be considered enemy action was inspiring. These were good people, Marce decided. Except possibly for Kiva Lagos. He hadn’t quite gotten a bead on her yet.
He looked over at Lady Kiva, whose current expression could be read as intent, or condescending smugness, depending on one’s own personal inclinations. Every experience Marce had of her was of someone one did not want to mess with. She reminded him of Vrenna that way, albeit with less of an actual conscience.
“What are you smirking about?” Kiva asked him. She’d caught him glancing at her.
“I was just thinking about you spacing Chat,” Marce replied, lying.
>
“What about it?”
“I was wondering if you would have spaced him for good if he hadn’t talked.”
“Hell, yes. Motherfucker was going to set off a bomb on my ship,” Kiva said. “You don’t fuck with my ship. You don’t fuck with my people.”
“I’m a crew member now,” Marce said. “That means I’m one of your people, too.”
“And we’re not going to give you up, now, are we?”
“Hopefully not.”
Kiva nodded. “So there you go. Don’t be a dick about it, Claremont.”
Marce grinned at this.
The communication channel between ships crackled open again. “This is Captain Wimson of the Red Rose, asking for direct parley with Captain Blinnikka of the Yes, Sir.”
Blinnikka slapped open his personal circuit. “Blinnikka here.”
“I understand you wish to cut the shit, Captain.”
“If that’s all right with you, Captain.”
“It certainly is. Why not be civilized about it. By now you’ve figured out what we are.”
“You’re pirates. You’ve been tracking us for most of a day.”
“Correct. And by now you realize that one of our associates has disabled your ability to enter the Flow.”
“Affirmative.”
“However, today is your lucky day, Captain. We are willing to leave you your cargo and stay out of your way while you either repair your ship or turn back to Imperial Station. All we need from you is to deliver two people to us.”
“Who are those people?”
“The first is our associate, the one who planted the bomb, who I’m sure you probably now have sitting in the brig. The second is a passenger. Lord Marce Claremont.”
“Captain, we can’t turn over your associate.”
“‘Can’t’ is a very strong word, Captain.”
“Let me amend. We can turn him over, just in very small pieces. He appears to have mistimed his bomb. He went up with it.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“If you want we can scrape the walls and hand him over in a bag.”
“Thank you, no. His retrieval was optional. Lord Marce’s, however, is not.”
“Our passenger manifest has no Marce Claremont, lord or otherwise.”
“I thought we agreed to cut the shit, Captain. Marce Claremont is currently on your ship under the name of Kristian Jansen, which is an identity the House of Lagos uses when it wants to smuggle someone off-system. You might want to inform your employers that they should change up their house identities more often than they do. You do have a Kristian Jansen on board, yes?”