《Alaya's Loop》


 Prologue

    ¡°This is the big one Mateos.¡± Jaree hopped next to him as he reviewed the data spec. ¡°We pull this off and Malorn will definitely promote us.¡±


    ¡°Keep hopping around like that and he¡¯s gonna make you clean the recyke intake valves again.¡±


    At once Jaree stilled, a sensitive enough chemical detector ¡ª like the one embedded in Malorn¡¯s hand ¡ª could pick up the neurotransmitter shift and hormone spike from Jaree once they¡¯d turned on their emotional dampeners. Should just keep them on all the time. ¡°I am calm, I am chill. And I am still dying for your opinion on this cherry little gig.¡±


    Nothing cherry about it. Mateos shunted half the reading off to his coproc and slid onto the data highway. Dull perspective take: this was a sneak and burn, simple corporate sabotage. Keen take: there was too much money on this. Target was a virtual unknown L-Corp out of Kylar¡¯s Loop named Etiolon Inc. Job was to sneak into the place and destroy one whole lot of their inventory. Their team was encouraged to take whatever they wanted in addition to the fee.


    ¡°Someone has a big hate on for Aytilon inc.¡± Jaree did this, talked while Mateos worked. They thought they were helping.


    ¡°Etiolon, I think it¡¯s a reference to the word, ¡°etiology,¡± thought that¡¯s a guess.¡± Mateos switched his coproc over to search mode, it had digested the whole file and his AI was preping an abstract. ¡°And the fact I have to guess means there¡¯s more going here than it seems.¡±


    Mal¡¯s Warriors ¡ª informally the ¡°Mal-wares¡± ¡ª were a high end ¡°mercenary company¡± out of Rosalind Loop. Malorn commanded a small pirate fleet, with a flagship the envy of some Loop-gov navies. All those resources meant they could be choosy about their jobs and their clients would be discreet.


    No way to find out who sent them this job exactly. And Mateos¡¯s coproc had already turned up a whole fat bunch of nulls. ¡°This is a rotten job. Nothing fresh or cherry about it.¡±


    Those had been his exact words a month ago. When Jaree brought the job to Malorn, he let Fate decide. Which meant Mateos and a bunch of second-string tech rats were void coasting blind right into Etiolon Inc Station OmegaZed.


    What Mateos had learned about the corporation they were about to sabotage had not instilled him with confidence. Loop corporations behaved more like organisms than legal or contractual entities. Most performed a myriad of functions, with another dozen-dozen smaller companies feeding off of them, and another thousand off of them and so forth. Sol was a massive petrie dish of interconnected parasitic capital-drive dragons.


    Etiolon Inc defied that. They had a platinum contract with one of the scariest security firms in Sol.


    Platinum.


    Mateos knew why Malorn let the job go to them in the first place. Maybe a dozen techsmiths spinning around Sol could crack into Nautilus Security and out again without 80% losses. Malorn had three of those working for him. And Mateos was one of them.


    It should have given my opinion more weight.


    It wasn¡¯t just the platinum contract with Nautilus. That was unusual enough. But the weirder part was the lack of a transaction record between them. People had died to get the mere financials for Etiolon Inc. There were no payouts for that platinum contract. There were Loop chains with over ten billion citizens who couldn¡¯t afford to pay Nautilus¡¯s rates.


    Malorn had ignored that.


    Then there was the weirder stuff. What should have been a homogeneous culture of healthy companies swimming about Etiolon¡¯s cash stream was more like a small group of highly specialized single-celled organisms engineered to serve Etiolon¡¯s needs. They didn¡¯t even go through the usual parties for their catering. Dozens of little companies, with records and histories just as mysterious as Etiolon¡¯s, provided trillions in annual trading to one company or sometimes each other. And that was it. Outsiders need not apply. Mateos could almost imagine some shadow corp hanging around and eating any companies who tried to insinuate themselves in this¡­ frankencorp.


    Their unknown client had offered Malorn far, far too much money for this job. It was what had sparked Mateos¡¯s initial caution. And it was what drove the pirate admiral to accept.


    With inertial dampeners on their boarding missiles, Mateos hardly noticed a jolt when they hit the side of the station and locked in. A few seconds later a door-shaped nano-charge seared through the outer hull of the station and provided a safe corridor for them to enter. Steam and byproducts outgassed from the process, but Mateos had already shut off his external breathing systems and set his lungs to automatic. He had the sensation of breath, but his implants were handling oxygenation duties. He opened a series of hatches in his calves and forearms as he waited for his turn to enter the station proper.


    Jaree led the way, loaded into their warchassis. They looked like a bad-holovid show for kids, featuring teens with boxes on their shoulders, hands, and elbows to simulate robots. Jaree was human and a cyborg, but every single circuit and bioengineered cell in their body came out of MilCas black spec factory. Right now those metal bits were painted neon red and blue, with digital ink occasionally changing the whole scheme to something new.


    They tooted at him over comms and charged into the hallway. Because the company who built the Etiolon Station OmegaZed went defunct and lost their data in a purge, there were no schematics for the station. Part of the month-long delay in starting their job had been due to the need to wait for Malorn¡¯s EM engineering team to come up with a way to get a high quality scan of their facility.


    Now Mateos, Jaree and the others knew where to go. Implants and training kicked into full combat mode, Mateos hummed over the steel plated floors like a ghost. The chem analysis system informed him the air was breathable and free of chemicals, but Mateos had many good reasons not to trust it. He could imagine Jaree taking a deep breath just to be contrary.


    Nothing had gone against the plan so far. Mateos had started to believe his earlier paranoia unwarranted when Jaree stopped before him, turned and shoved Mateos backward and into the others behind him. A black figure in fuzzy metallic armor burst from the thin metal wall and into Jaree, swinging through the air where Mateos had been standing. The blow only slid off of Jaree, not making any noise as it did, but almost severed their arm. Almost was a bad place with Jaree.


    Not a decade back, Mateos would have squeezed his eyes shut over what happened next. Nanites reconnected Jaree¡¯s tissues and simultaneously extended spikes from various parts of their exposed armor. Pink and purple glowing spikes smashed through the enemy¡¯s armored carapace and out the other side, pinning them to the wall. They twitched for a moment as blood and other fluids leaked out of them, down through the metal grating of the floors.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.Jaree chuckled as they patted their arm. ¡°That stung. They almost got me.¡± Metallic wrenching punctuated their sentence and a long black spike tore through Jaree¡¯s head. They twitched for a moment and laughed. ¡°No brain there, sorry!¡±


    Spinning in place with an almost dainty series of moves ¡ª for a three ton behemoth ¡ª Jaree slammed their attacker into the metal wall, stunned as they reoriented themselves. Too slow for their own good. A boxy hand pistoned out with enough force to leave an impression of the flattened bits of flesh and metal they¡¯d made of the black-armored cyborgs on the opposite wall.


    ¡°You¡¯re brain¡¯s right there though. Ha ha!¡± Jaree¡¯s face emitted sparks as they tried to extract the spike from their jaw, banging it into the walls and generally causing more of a ruckus. The others watched their backs while Mateos grabbed the spike and pulled it out of the back of Jaree¡¯s head. They laughed as they swayed, tuned back toward Mateos with their blocky metallic hole already fusing together and gave a stage whisper. ¡°My brain¡¯s in my ass.¡± They winked and continued to lead the way through the facility.


    The entry missile had carried them through several meters of outer shell and other potential problems. But the security system knew where they were now. Mateos got his turn to shine. The small-scale digital swarm he¡¯d released into the station with him had already started their job.


    A series of scanners, active sensors, and other security systems opened themselves to Mateos. He thought of himself as ironically old school. When he stepped into a building, ship, or station, he began to infect it right away. No need for ECM with a system like this.


    Those scanners showed Mateos and his team run off, toward the administration section. Now that he could use the station¡¯s senses, Mateos felt around for the missing bits Jaree had destroyed. A security cyborg. Cute. Mateos sent a general stand down order to those and hid their presence from the Nautilus systems.


    A platinum package meant there was an active response team on premises, including a data sec expert like Mateos. So far he hadn¡¯t met them. Good thing. Mateos couldn¡¯t handle the other team¡¯s version of Jaree. Which was one of the many reasons Malorn never hit MilCas or their suppliers. No sane person did.


    Control over security meant their course was clear, so Jaree wouldn¡¯t have to fight anything else until they reached their target. Hopefully not even then.


    All five of the team moved into the room with their target in it like the experts they were. Mateos kept his coproc on security, but used his main brain to confirm this was their target and look around.


    Blue creches filled with feet and an unknown liquid lined the walls like books in a library. All four sides of this large room held dozens upon dozens of creches. They were specifically told to blow up the Foxtrot bank in this room. According to the room schematics, which Mateos had access to now, the whole forewall was Foxtrot. Which meant the aftwall was theirs.


    ¡°Oh. Huh.¡± Cyborg bodies. ¡°Oh¡­ wow.¡± Not just cyborg bodies. These were top of the line military, no¡­ black ops specification bodies. These were so illegal¡­ Mateos actually chuckled to himself and called up the file on the occupants. None of them had a name, just numerical designations. He scanned them and picked the one at random: H-2791. It was close to the floor and near at hand. Jaree had finished placing the demolition charges. ¡°Come over here and smash this thing, J. Don¡¯t hurt what¡¯s inside, that¡¯s our bonus.¡±


    Parted out, this one body would sell for millions. Maybe tens of millions. Jaree smashed two creches ¡ª the one Mateos and indicated and a second ¡ª and grabbed both of the bodies from within, a nude male and female. According to the spec, they should last weeks out of the creche without maintenance, but would need to be activated before then. He¡¯d gotten all of the information he could out of the system.


    This place was insane. MilCase would erase this station and every little secondary company attached to Etiolon the moment they learned about this. Better to proceed with Malorn¡¯s plan B.


    ¡°Goin¡¯ full burn folks.¡± He gave the command to blow the station out of the void. Mateos twitched at his own words. They were close to the missile and the extract-pod. Something had flickered across his view of the station¡¯s security system. ¡°Something¡¯s¡­¡±


    Jaree roared and bashed her fist through a skull which had appeared at her ankle level. It had cut her leg right off. She needed to get it or she¡¯d¡­ His own systems began screaming alerts into his field of view.


    Arcane runes blazed to life around Mateos as nascent protections from his ship¡¯s magi kicked in. Too late, unfortunately. He felt the possession take hold right as Mateos¡¯s ability to control his body or mind faded.


    Bad news for me, bad news for them.


    Wizards never appreciated the stark raving paranoia of a magic-phobe like Mateos. Possession, soul binding, soul rend, all of it kept him awake and paralyzed at night. Even the few displays of magic by the other members of his crew were reduced to ¡°fancy technical tricks¡± in his head. One trick, an entirely mundane one, was to hypnotically instill a systematic habitual behavior into one¡¯s fingers. Mateos never thought about it anymore, he just tended to fiddle with them a certain way. All of the time.


    Because if he stopped for more than thirty seconds, he had another twelve to enter an abort command before the charges spread throughout his body slagged him.


    Mateos had grown beyond the urge to be sick when affected by magic now. Now he just gloated at the wizard who¡¯d displaced his soul shouldered Mateos¡¯s body and his drone swarm and tried to distract Jaree from murdering his fellow security personnel.


    It was long forty-two seconds before the wizard died with Mateos.


    He woke exactly six hours later with a gap in his memories. ¡°Oh shit I died on mission.¡±


    Malorn looked over Mateos. ¡°But you succeeded. And you got a bonus.¡± The pirate admiral motioned his head toward Mateos and presented a steel-grey cyborg body, hanging from a hook like a suit. On her head was stamped the words: ¡°OmegaZed¡± her chest bore another imprint: H-2791¡± There was no other identifying mark. ¡°Could part her out¡­¡± Malorn twisted up the side of his head. ¡°But I think that¡¯d be a waste. There¡¯s no ghost in there, we already checked. Gotta be a CC chick. Might find her useful.¡±


    Mateos shrugged. He¡¯d known he was successful before he woke up. If he¡¯d died and failed Malorn¡­ Mateos would still be asleep. As to his bonus, Mateos had no idea how he¡¯d earned it, no idea what the cyborg hanging there was, or what it could do. ¡°Um?¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s what we know.¡± Malorn sent the technician a data stream and his coprocessor summarized it for him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep her.¡±


    Malorn chuckled. ¡°Good man, she¡¯ll be useful on mission.¡±

 Chapter 1 - Alaya

    ¡°Come inside Alaya, your father¡¯s working on the reclamation tanks again!¡± Mother¡¯s voice called to her with a sense of urgency Alaya did not share. The water from the reclamation tanks was clean and smelled so fresh. She hoped father would tip it over again and drench her with it.


    ¡°Just hand her up here to me, Lena.¡± His voice drifted down to Alaya and she briefly considered bolting through one of the broken sections of grating between their house and the other sections of their home cylinder station.


    ¡°Run young lady and I will tan your hide when I find you.¡± Mother knew the place almost as well as Alaya. There weren¡¯t a lot of nooks Alaya could hide where mother wouldn¡¯t find her.


    Darby, their assistant robot floated over. ¡°Miss, your father is also working on one of the decryption resolvers for DallNet.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± That was all anyone needed to say. The cost for things like DallNet were far, far outside of their family¡¯s budget. But if father had found a way to decrypt the signal, at least that meant Alaya might be able to read some.


    ¡°Valen Einhart, tell me you are not trying to stealfor our daughter!¡± Mother had redirected her ire at father.


    ¡°It¡¯s for me too, Lena.¡± Mother stomped her foot and narrowed her eyes at father. Alaya was reasonably sure she couldn¡¯t actually see him. And then there was that amused smile mother wore on her face whenever she acted like she was mad with father. Adults were stupid. ¡°Come on up here, boop, let¡¯s see if you can help me get this thing working. Okay?¡±


    Alaya scrambled up the old rusty gantry with Darby at her back making sure she didn¡¯t fall, or if she did, he caught her. Father sat cross-legged over the reclamation tub and waggled his eyebrows at it. It looked fine as far as Alaya could tell. Before she could ask, he wiggled his fingers and a little sheen of light passed over them. Using his magic, he lifted a piece of clear plastic out of the reclamation tub, which made it begin to flow again. ¡°I cleared the problem hon, gonna make sure it won¡¯t happen again!¡±


    Mother shouted something indecipherable back to him and father turned to Alaya with a grin. ¡°Now show me what¡¯s wrong with it and how you¡¯d fix it.¡± Father tapped the little beige box next to him with its cover pulled off. He guided her through the process with patience. Father knew everything about technology and magic. Mother knew a little about that stuff too, but she knew all there was to know about everything else.


    Today was an exploration day and only the promise of science and tinkering kept Alaya here and not crawling through the dilapidated old cylinder. It took them about an hour, but together Alaya and her father ¡ª mostly him ¡ª got the decryption device working.


    While mother was still inside, presumably cooking from the delicious smells rising out of their little metal hut, father connected the decyrpter to a display and turned it on. Alaya held her breath and sagged when only blue appeared on the holograph. A tap of the nose later, father tweaked something in the connection and it came alive. There was no sound, father was smarter than that, but there was a visual display.


    They happened on a scene of a woman wearing a torn purple space suit fighting off men in black uniforms. She was gorgeous: short, red-haired, and slender. But with strong arms and square shoulders. Those heels and the way the uniform tugged had to be in the way.


    Father turned it off with a cough and said, ¡°maybe we should find a more age-appropriate show.¡±


    ¡°Valen! It¡¯s time to eat. Hide that thing and find an explanation for the light show later.¡±


    Father blushed and coughed into his hand again. ¡°We should go. If I were going to hide it, I would probably hide it in the usual place.¡±


    It was deceptive what they were doing. Mother didn¡¯t approve. But it felt naughty and transgressive, and it was something Alaya could share with her father. ¡°Right, I¡¯ll never find it.¡± She didn¡¯t say ¡°behind the broken 580-transformer from the crashed single passenger Galehawk.¡± Cause that would have ruined it.


    Dinner was fresh hydroponic greens, synthetic meat seasoned with herbs and chilis from mother¡¯s gardens. The chilis and greens weren¡¯t ¡°calorie dense enough¡± mother lamented every time they ate them, ¡°but they tasted so good!¡± Alaya thought they tasted like starched dishwater sponges with something disgusting and bitter injected. But refusal to eat the green stuff brought down a whole host of problems from mother and father, Alaya had given up that particular battle long ago.


    Besides, she really liked the other stuff. Mother had always been good at working with substandard ingredients.


    ¡°Okay boop, who wants to play scavenge the cylinder?¡± Father clapped his hands once, but there was no need to drum up further support from Alaya.


    ¡°I do! I do!¡± She jumped up from the table, almost sending the old hunk of plate steel on legs toppling over. Mother grabbed the edge and gave a long suffering look.


    Before she could speak, father tapped his nose and said, ¡°after we clean up the kitchen, of course.¡±


    ¡°Yay!¡±


    Mother poured herself a cup of tea and kissed father on the neck, patting his shoulder as she did. They chuckled at each other and whispered stuff Alaya couldn¡¯t hear. It made her roll her eyes and gag. Not only was father not helping, but they were doing gross stuff when there was exploration and adventure to be had.


    Growing up was the worst.


    When they¡¯d cleaned the last dish and wiped up the last of the mess from dinner, mother surveyed the kitchen, running her fingers along the cracked formed plastic counters and over the front of the warped cabinet doors. Father had said those were once so well-made they were effectively air-tight. Alaya had found a few places on the cylinder still like that, with cubbies and hallways that could be sealed with the press of a few buttons or a command. The whole cylinder obeyed Alaya and her family as if they were the original owners, though Alaya knew they¡¯d moved here from¡­ somewhere else. Mother and father hadn¡¯t like it there.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    When mother nodded her head, Alaya shouted. It was the signal they¡¯d cleaned to mother¡¯s satisfaction and were free for the evening.


    ¡°Tonight is a family scavenge the cylinder night!¡± Mother made her announcement as she pulled father into their room. ¡°We¡¯re getting ready, be quick little miss boop.¡±


    As much as she liked it when father called her by the family nickname, Alaya loved it when mother did. It was as rare as cake or real flour. And just as sweet to Alaya¡¯s ears. She skipped over to her bunk where all of her tools and supplies were.


    ¡°Lists were important business aboard ship, yes they were.¡± Alaya chanted to herself. ¡°We have food, water, and shelter.¡± With each item Alaya patted a different small container aligned across the foot of her small mattress. She¡¯d dug the items out of the cubby beneath. The first were food capsules. Minimal nutrition packaged into a really small container. They were intended to be eaten with a fiber/protein/carb supplemental meal, but Alaya didn¡¯t have that. Besides, those took up a lot more space than these little capsules. The second was a small compressed water package along with a compact purification and testing system. That had only been used once. When Alaya and father tested it to make sure it worked properly. And the final was a simple thermal tarp with piezoelectric controls. It could seal against vacuum, assuming it fit over the breech, was warm enough to insulate in well below freezing, and father had helped Alaya program various beds and tent shapes into the little blanket.


    There were a smattering of other little doodads and trinkets Alaya squirreled away over the years which she added to her explorer kit. But the only other real essential was the multitool her father had given her. It did¡­ everything. It never left her side under normal circumstances ¡ª meaning unless she laid it down and forgot where it was ¡ª but it could be tracked, used to communicate with mother and father, it provided a map, lighting and a dozen other functions. Not all of them worked for Alaya, father had locked them out. One day he said he¡¯d show her how to access them on her own, but only when she was older. Alaya always planned to jump ahead and unlock the thing without father¡¯s help.


    Not tonight though. Tonight was an exploration night. Alaya hopped down the stairs from her room and found her parents waiting. Father wore his usual spelunking gear: rope slung over his shoulder, helmet with a special light on the brim, his canvas jacket with lots of pockets, and his cargo pants. Mother wore utterly impractical gear tonight. A slim, hip-hugging skirt, an almost see-through blouse which clung to her chest and she¡¯d even done her hair. Father¡¯s own multitool hung from his belt. Mother never carried one. It was weird. She was even wearing heels.


    She looked pretty. Alaya appreciated that maybe she¡¯d be as pretty as mother one day. What Alaya didn¡¯t understand was the impracticality of it all. And the danger. All other uses aside, the multitool could create a bubble of breathable air, perform first aid or even more serious medical help¡­ Alaya couldn¡¯t remember all of it by herself at first, her father had made her recite it until she could do it by rote. She had no idea what kind of medical help her multitool could offer. Her¡¯s was keyed to her body so it would do a lot of the important stuff automatically.


    The way her parents were looking at each other made Alaya¡¯s brain rot. Better not to worry about whatever dumb adult things they were thinking. When they left the secure area around their shelter and ventured into the larger cylinder, Alaya had already cut ahead of her parents by twenty meters.


    Here the metallic corridors and service tunnels opened into the grand interior of the ancient station. The smell hit you first: salt water, moldering sands and algae blooms the size of an old Earth nation. Even though Alaya had a rag in front of her mouth, it didn¡¯t do much to keep out the stink.


    Father¡¯s voice buzzed over the intercom. ¡°Mother and I are going to check out subsection Hammer. Don¡¯t go outside the environmental zone. And no hide and seek tonight. If you don¡¯t come when we call, we¡¯re just gonna activate the tracker. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes papa.¡±


    ¡°Thanks sweetie. Be safe and make sure Darby doesn¡¯t get lost. Love you¡±


    The servant bot hummed and twitched in annoyance at father¡¯s message, but Alaya just smiled. She loved that he trusted her this much. ¡°Love you too.¡±


    Before her father had interrupted her, Alaya had switched over to personal contest mode. Today¡¯s tournament, get across the old sand oceans before they made her tummy hurt or her head woozy. Holding her breath while running was the real challenge and one Alaya could never quite manage. There was no one else but her parents and Darby to compete with. Might as well compete with herself.


    Feet squelched across the gray sands. Overhead, lights flickered through a gaze of clouds which never lifted from the area. Climate controls for a station this big failed in amazing ways. Alaya skirted the fungal blooms across the beaches, the spores would make her sick for sure even if she might save some time. At least her boots were watertight.


    According to the chronometer on her multitool, she beat her old time by five seconds today. But her stomach ached when she darted into a maintenance shaft at the end of this little archipelago. Mother taught her that word ¡ª archipelago ¡ª and Alaya was especially proud of it. Inside of the service hallways, the environmental systems worked much better. The taste of mold lingered, but soon faded as Alaya ventured into the darkness.


    Her multitool lit the space before her, showing old printed plastic stairs which had been reinforced by Alaya and father¡¯s efforts: metal bits jammed under the steps kept them rickety for adults but stable for Alaya.


    Only a few meters through empty corridors, Alaya came to the first and most familiar of her four-way intersections. She cherished her choices down here, like some kind of magical princess choosing the best knight to protect her, or a maidservant best friend. The princess never knew how portentous ¡ª another mother word ¡ª a choice she¡¯d made right then.


    Right was familiar and old. It was also the safest route through the area. Alaya and her father had explored the secrets right out of that fork so it was off the roster tonight. But the front and left forks¡­ Front was almost entirely unexplored. Father had been down there and told Alaya it was broken and boring.


    It was tempting to ignore him and go anyway.


    The left fork was one her father had only recently un-forbade for her. Was it months now? Alaya wasn¡¯t going to check her multitool for such a minor detail. She was checking it for the map she¡¯d made. A whole dark area not far from his fork lay undiscovered on her map.


    Left it was.


    The night wasn¡¯t a complete waste, Alaya found some old MN ¡ª macronutrient ¡ªrations which might go with her other rations, assuming they were still good. It had been hundreds of years, so Alaya would have to have father check.


    When she got home, father was sipping from a tin cup filled with his moonshine. Alaya hated the smell, the taste and everything about it. They sometimes used it to clean mechanical parts. How could anyone drink that stuff?


    ¡°Hey boop.¡± His voice was clear and unslurred. He hadn¡¯t had much so far. ¡°Find anything neat?¡±


    ¡°Yeah here,¡± she handed her find off to father who grinned at her.


    ¡°Ooh, fibe-car rations. Even if they¡¯re bad, the recycler might be able to do something with them.¡± He waggled his eyebrows. ¡°These are old school, they might have the recipe encoded in the packaging like they used to.¡±


    ¡°Yay!¡± Alaya squirmed with joy at the news. ¡°Where¡¯s mama?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± father blushed and a faint smile crossed his lips, ¡°she¡¯s exhausted and needs to get her rest.¡±


    He didn¡¯t look concerned so Alaya had no reason to be either. They stayed up and talked that night about DallNet, in the morning, father told her he and mother would head out to look for some specific machines on the lower decks. ¡°You¡¯ll be all alone here Alaya. Expect you to know what to do.¡± He winked at her and Alaya squirmed.


    She never imagined that would be the last thing her father ever said to her.

 Chapter 2 - H-2791

    H-2791 Opened her eyes. Emotional dampeners shut out any visceral reaction to her continued captivity. Under normal circumstances, the stress might have led her to attempt escape. But none of the appropriate protocols had been initiated.


    She twitched when subroutines activated throughout her cybercortex. Wetware, firmware, and hardware rejected a volume of invalid commands so long it exceeded the total written output of humanity circa 1900. Why did she know that fact? What commands did work, what neurotransmitters did flood her brain prevented her from even feeling irritation at the mess of nonsense commands.


    Her chronometer connected to the local network and informed her it had been one-thousand ninety-one months since her last activation. Almost a century.


    The face which stared at her when she opened her eyes was the same which had every other time she¡¯d awoken. Rogue algorithms swimming through her cerebrum had imprinted him on her brain. A genie trapped in the bottle of her mind, she required only one thing to free herself. If only she could bring it to the forefront of her consciousness.


    ¡°Wake you scary fucking bag of blood and bolts.¡± Malorn stepped back and beckoned her out of the biostatic gel solution she spent most of her life in. ¡°Get up and get ready for battle.¡±


    Two technicians flanked the admiral. One of them, Mateos, was almost kind to H-2791. If anyone would give her what she needed, she¡¯d always suspected it would be him. Mateos wore a ship engineer¡¯s uniform, though it lacked any navy identifier H-2791 knew. Overalls covered the uniform and he wore stains and other messes all over them.


    The other technician hated H-2791. It was clear from his face, his mannerisms, from over half of the trash code floating around her operating environment. He¡¯d tried and failed to sabotage her several times and never seemed willing to quit. It made no sense to H-2791, why would anyone continue to do something they were so fundamentally bad at?


    Today he wore a white suit with black stripes running up the length, which moved, and expanded as if playing some kind of tune. A ring at the edge of his hat flashed with a complimentary beat. It was certainly garish. He hunched over a holographic console and uploaded a new control protocol directly into her core. He swore as her systems rejected the bad code. It did cause a minor lower body malfunction. H-2791 kicked her leg out and smashed into the stand holding her up.


    Malorn had a pistol on her in seconds. Three automated turrets popped out of a wall, the floor and the ceiling, all of them pointed at her. ¡°What the fuck was that Kowal?¡±


    The other technician looked horrified at H-2791. ¡°We should part this crazy fucker out. Right now.¡±


    Malorn ignored the other technician and turned to Mateos. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Kowal has no idea how to code for the OmegaZed models. We should stop trying to upload to her. It¡¯s gonna slag her eventually.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why she kicked?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure.¡± Mateos walked over and gently thumped H-2791¡¯s carapace armor. ¡°It¡¯s like you said sir. This is a C-square with its head jammed full of military tactics and training. Part her out and lose all of that. Keep her and we run another test on this mission.¡±


    Malorn didn¡¯t move, but the turrets retracted into their sockets. ¡°And you little rust bucket. What do you think?¡±


    H-2791 had been waiting to be addressed. ¡°I do not care. I only intend to serve my function.¡± Fuck if she knew what that was.


    ¡°Fine. But this next mish is a waste of your talents, Mateos. Kowal, you¡¯re taking on a sack and burn. We found a cherry little station out circling the edge of an old, old SM-Loop.¡±


    ¡°What? I don¡¯t want to run a fucking salv job, Mal¡­¡± Kowal¡¯s voice squeaked and he blanched when Malorn turned to him. ¡°Never mind, happy to do it, sir. Sorry about that.¡±


    H-2791 couldn¡¯t see the expression on Malorn¡¯s face directly, but she could see him squint his eyes and bare his teeth at Kowal through the man¡¯s pupils. From the back, Malorn just twitched a little. ¡°Good. Organize the job and bring back whatever you find. Mateos, prep her and clean out that code shit, please.¡±


    ¡°Will do admiral.¡± Mateos slid a chair along the wall and sat down in front of H-2791. ¡°How does that sound, we¡¯re gonna clean out the mess in your skull today. Try to get you back into shape. But I am going to put you to sleep for just a moment¡­.¡±


    When H-2791 woke again, she simply opened her eyes and noted with something approaching relief that the vast majority of foreign code had been purged from her system. The compulsion to follow Malorn¡¯s orders remained, as did the emotive suppression. H-2791 could perfectly recall every memory in her head, but could not attach any significance to it. Most of those memories involved a great deal of screaming and bloodshed. All she could manage was a soft internal huh over those recollections.


    The usual combat cloak had been thrown over her chrome carapace. The cloak would protect her from large caliber rounds and other dangers her skin might have failed to. She was strapped into an inertial harness for travel, as were four other people in the cabin with her. Kowal the engineer was there, still wearing his white suit and hat. Jaree the cybercrusher ¡ª self named ¡ª was there, Anton their support wizard and finally Kalvin the team¡¯s theurgist.


    Of course Jaree spoke. They spoke all of the time according to H-2791¡¯s memories. ¡°Don¡¯t see why we need that here.¡±


    ¡°Malorn wants us to test it.¡±


    ¡°Fah.¡± Jaree sneered at Kowal. ¡°Way I hear it, you pissed the admiral off so he sent this chicken can with us as punishment.¡±


    ¡°It is an experiment.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°It is a shit mint. A mint that tastes like shit. And you should be the one eating it. Not us.¡± The other two, the magic users, had been quiet this whole time. But they laughed now and Kowal turned an angry glare on the two of them. He ignored Jaree because the cybercrusher did not care one bit about Kowal¡¯s or anyone¡¯s feelings.


    Their ship trembled and the theurgist¡¯s eyes glowed. ¡°We approach the ancient cylinder. There are three living beings aboard classified as human. No other significant life. Scanning¡­ they are squatters, authorized to kill.¡±


    ¡°Do we knock or do we slip in like thieves?¡± Jaree turned to the others in the cabin. Neither the wizard nor the theurgist offered their opinions.


    ¡°Go in and take the can with you. See what she can do.¡±


    ¡°I am pretty sure Malorn ordered you to go on this job.¡± Jaree¡¯s smirk grew wider.


    ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t going.¡± He snarled at Jaree and pointed to the others. ¡°You two stay here and watch the ship. Come in if there¡¯s trouble.¡±


    H-2791 followed the two pirates ¡ª Kowal and Jaree ¡ª the wizard and the theurgist remained back on the ship. Risking them was a bad idea because they might need one of them to power the ship back if there was a problem.


    That someone lived here might have intrigued H-2791 if not for the suppressants. Her mind noted it as a complication in her mission, the orders given to her by Malorn were actually fairly complex. The old admiral was extremely paranoid. But currently, she was to follow Kowal, Jaree, or the other two and do what they said. So she¡¯d be killing the three lifeforms aboard the cylinder if ordered. Best to know that now.


    With the age of the place, it was a simple matter for even an engineer of Kowal¡¯s skill to bypass security and render them blank on the sensors. As far as the derelict was concerned, she hadn¡¯t even been boarded.


    ¡°Ugh, this place fucking stinks.¡± Kowal pulled mask up over his nose and mouth and breathed into it. ¡°This is the worst fucking day of my life.¡±


    Jaree laughed at his discomfort. ¡°You are so soft, this is good day so far.¡±


    ¡°I detect three humanoid forms.¡± H-2791 broadcast her optics over the shortband network the pirates used. Only Kowal and Jaree would see it. ¡°Two adults and one child, between five and ten.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Jaree made a low rumbling sound over the network.


    ¡°Shut it.¡± Kowal came back over the network. ¡°Kill the¡­ actually just kill one of the adults.¡±


    ¡°That is ridiculous¡­¡±


    ¡°I am fucking in charge here and bored. My day will get better if one of them runs. They¡¯re fucking squatters, this¡¯ll be a piece of cake.¡±


    ¡°How can such a stupid person be in charge or an engineer?¡± Jaree shook her head.


    ¡°Fuck you. Do what I say you piece of shit robot bitch.¡±


    H-2791 knew the command was directed at her. So chose one of the targets at random. Through the wall she opened fire on the larger one, the male. Bits had flipped in her head and a random number generator had picked him of the two. She wasn¡¯t capable of sorrow or regret. But some vague part of her wished she were.


    The screaming started next.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go hunting boys¡­¡±


    * * *


    Gunfire. In the span of her short life, Alaya had never heard gunfire outside of supervised simulations with her father or mother. Mother hated guns, but she¡¯d insisted Alaya learn the basics. Her father wanted her well-versed.


    Panic set in the moment she heard the sounds, because screaming followed. Alaya was up and had her exploration bag ¡ª still packed from last night ¡ª in hand. Her parents, she had to make sure they were okay.


    Downstairs, the kitchen had been demolished. Torn through like something had simply fired a mass driver through their entire home. Mother was outside their bedroom, covered in blood, screaming Alaya¡¯s name.


    ¡°Mommy!¡± She rocketed herself toward her mother, was the blood her? Where was father? ¡°Where¡¯s daddy?¡± Those names ¡ª mommy and daddy ¡ª baby names. Alaya had discarded them at the ripe old age of eight for a reason.


    Mother didn¡¯t reply. She swept Alaya up into her arms with a rare display of strength and didn¡¯t stop. ¡°We¡¯re running baby. We need to run.¡±


    Red beams arced through the smoke and rubble of their home. Those beams led back to a hulking figure with massive cubical arms and legs, like a toy out of an old catalogue Alaya had found in a lower deck. Next to it stood a man wearing a white suit and laughing as he strode toward them at the head of a pack of hunters. The last was a woman wearing a hood, red lights shined from those eyes sent a chill through Alaya.


    Mother darted through the door and out toward the upper segments, toward the archipelago and the mushrooms. A shout rose up behind them and someone replied with a chortle. Metal creaked and whined as the people chasing them caught up faster than Alaya could have imagined.


    Alaya suddenly found herself on the grating of a service tunnel. Mother turned and said, ¡°don¡¯t look, baby.¡±


    There was nothing that would stop Alaya from watching. Not after today. Where was father? When the metal door behind them opened, Alaya¡¯s heart swelled for a moment. In the shadows, she¡¯d thought it might be father come to help them. But it was the man in the white hat and suit. ¡°Fucking shit, thank you Jaree¡­¡±


    He pointed a gun at mother and Alaya. Mother opened her palm and pointed it at the man. ¡°I, Empress Miranda invoke my authority.¡± The walls around them rang with her words, as if the very material of the ship had chosen to speak along with mother.


    The door the man had wedged open twisted itself and ripped away from its moorings. In microseconds, the time it took to fly from the frame to the man, it cut him in half. Then a small mass of metal around them tore the man apart.


    Someone shouted in a strange accent and a loud blast tore a scream from Alaya as blood sprayed over her. Mother¡¯s blood.


    The ringing sound ended as mother brought her hand down. A mound of metal had crushed the hallway between them and the bad people. Alaya grabbed her mother as she sagged. Blood poured from mother. There was a small hole, no bigger than two of Alaya¡¯s fingers in the center of mother¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Mommy!¡±


    Mother grabbed Alaya as she sagged. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry baby, boop.¡± Her throat closed over her voice as Alaya tried to respond. ¡°This is not what I wanted for you. I hoped you might escape our family¡­ legacy.¡± She coughed and blood tickled down her lip. ¡°My notes are in it. Listen to them your father¡¯s there too. He loved you, we both love you.¡± Her eyes lost focus. ¡°Valen, that tickles, stop it¡­¡±


    Alaya screamed until her voice went hoarse. She only stopped when something pricked her arm. A pattern, it looked like a dinosaur or maybe a dragon from one of Mother¡¯s myths, slid off of her chest from the hole where Mother had been shot to Alaya.


    Scrambling away from mother¡¯s body, too late, the dragon swam up her skin toward her chest. A digital voice roared in her head: CHARTER HEIRSHIP ESTABLISHED. BLOODLINE LINEAGE CONFIRMED.


    WHAT TITLE, HONORIFIC, OR FORM OF ADDRESS WOULD YOU PREFER?


    Alaya couldn¡¯t get the voice out of her head. It just kept repeating its question. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    FOR EXAMPLE, YOU MAY CHOOSE MASTER, MISTER, LORD, LADY, QUEEN, KING, EMPRESS, EMPEROR, PRINCESS¡­


    ¡°Princess! I choose princess.¡± She sniffled. Was this a game? Was she about to find out this was all some kind of horror game?


    PRINCESS¡­ BY WHAT NAME WILL YOU BE KNOWN?


    ¡°Alaya?¡±


    PRINCESS ALAYA. IS YOUR NATION AN EMPIRE¡­


    ¡°Sure.¡± What was going on?


    PRINCESS ALAYA OF THE ALAYAN EMPIRE, IS THIS CORRECT?


    ¡®Whatever.¡± She¡¯d opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. Mother¡¯s body lay there staring back at her. This was all some kind of sick joke. A bad game Alaya would yell at mother and father for playing with her. Or maybe it was a dream?


    And then the multi-implant activated.

 Chapter 3- H2791

    H-2791 paused, unable to proceed without additional commands. Kowal had been bisected but was most likely alive. It would take a good deal more material to truly crush Jaree like that, unless they managed to shatter their brain case. If they were dead, H-2791 could return to the ship and await further orders. It took a second of time for all of the commands to fully process before H-2791 bent down and began trying to sift through the rubble for Kowal or Jaree. That woman, whoever she was, had been something of a surprise. Jaree had shot her right in the chest, with magic users it was best to visually confirm death, but H-2791 suspected she was dead.


    She found Kowal first, his eyes blank as his trunk scurried out from under the wreckage without his lower legs. He didn¡¯t speak, but rather pointed back to the rubble like a mute animal and waited for H-2791. Delay would have earned her further mistreatment from Kowal, so she set about digging for his legs right away. She found them before she found Jaree.


    Once they were free, Kowal¡¯s torso set about reconnecting itself with his lower half. H-2791 supposed others might have found the process disturbing with its liquid smacking sounds and the way fluids seeped out of where the torso and lower body were connected.


    Kowal himself appeared completely unaffected by the process. Most likely because he employed a neural shunt to turn off the sensation while his body repaired itself. When it stopped moving and the seam between his torso and hips closed, Kowal blinked his eyes and looked around. ¡°Did I fucking die?¡±


    Perhaps Jaree would have come up with a pithy response to the question. ¡°No.¡± H-2791 only had the truth. ¡°We are still aboard the derelict cylinder attempting to subdue the occupants.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Kowal choked on the denial. ¡°Shit. Where¡¯s Jaree?¡±


    H-2791 pointed to the still-sealed tunnel. ¡°They are buried beneath the rubble.¡±


    ¡°Ha, what an idiot.¡± Kowal sneered at the rubble pile, clearly unaffected by the fact H-2791 had pulled him out from under there. ¡°I guess we can¡¯t go that way and completing the mission is more important than Jaree¡¯s life. Oh well.¡± Without looking at her, he said to H-2791, ¡°get me a¡­¡± he snapped his fingers, ¡°an alternate route to that lady and the kid. Do it now.¡±


    H-2791 had already plotted such a route as part of her contingency plans. ¡°It will take a little bit of time, but there is a different service tunnel which should connect to the same outlet at this one.¡±


    ¡°Spare me the fucking details, just tell me where to go.¡±


    That was easier anyway. H-2791 sent the instructions to Kowal over their subnet. He stomped off, down a different tunnel access, leading the way along the course H-2791 had plotted. It made more tactical sense for H-2791 to lead, but she wasn¡¯t equipped to question his orders. Better to just stay quiet.


    The tunnels they took to catch up with the two squatters led through a swampy, wet section of tunnels with water leaking in up to their ankles. Kowal complained non-stop the whole way, lamenting the state of his suit, his legs, his hair, his everything. For someone so recently cut in half, he was very concerned about his attire.


    It should have been humorous, but the inhibitors continued to prevent her from experiencing emotions.


    Several switchbacks later, they crept up to where the two squatters should have been. They found the woman¡¯s corpse, a clean hole in her chest marking where Jaree shot her. ¡°Fuck yeah, Jaree isn¡¯t completely useless, eh?¡± He grinned and shook the woman¡¯s body. ¡°Nailed the mother, good job Jaree. Let¡¯s go get Bambi.¡±


    H-2791 didn¡¯t understand the reference, but she didn¡¯t need to. Their path led them out of the tunnels and out into the former surface of the cylinder. Olfactory anguish did not happen to H-2791, her sensors were tuned against toxic or potentially dangerous chemicals. Kowal on the other hand wasn¡¯t prepared for the incredible amount of rot and mold hanging in the air. He gagged the moment he took a breath. It was incredible to H-2791 that Kowal would have a cybernetic body cable of repairing itself as thoroughly as her own while still failing to filter out unpleasant airborne substances.


    ¡°This is fucking hell.¡± Kowal retched through the gloom.


    H-2791 could not agree with the engineer. Darkness suited her, the fog graced her carapace, the exposed parts, with a film of water. She shivered under the totally unique sensation. As to the smells, while nauseating to baseline humans, to H-2791 they were a melange of first time experiences. She took a large sample of the air through one of her arm units for later analysis.


    Half a dozen different subroutines kicked in, metacognitive foreign code intended to mark the development of higher thought. H-2791 could read the code herself, excess processing capacity red-lining as meta-meta-meta and so forth processes monitored and examined each other.


    She shut the whole tangent down, it occurred over less than two microseconds. Not even enough time for Kowal to stop his retching.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it.¡± He didn¡¯t move, just looked expectantly at H-2791. ¡°Well, fucking track the little beast. Tell me where she went.¡±


    Right. He hadn¡¯t been explicit and H-2791 was a little caught up in a cognition storm. Activating her full suite of scanners as well as the external hookups from the cylinder, H-2791 could tell the girl had come through here. But the weather and moisture spoiled her thermal tracking capabilities and also inhibited her ability to sense the depressions the child made with her feet.


    Two sets of tracks appeared to lead away from the maintenance tunnel. They both went in the same general direction, though one set had fewer large footprints spread through them. That track veered toward the water.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Kor.¡± For some reason Kowal had left his mask off and was still huffing the air in here. ¡°We could repurpose this place into a food production factory. Make serious cred. Look at all this water and bio-activity. Could turn this hell into a gold mine, heh heh.¡± He approached the mushrooms and sealed himself up at once. They passed through a cloud of spores and Kowal brushed the stuff off of him, creating wind which only stirred up more spores.


    Curiosity suppressed more actively now, H-2791 had a brief urge to look up Kowal¡¯s CV to figure out how someone so easily distracted and¡­ frankly stupid managed to become an engineer. And then how he had survived with Admiral Malorn for so long. It also stopped her from collecting a sample of the mushrooms. But it didn¡¯t force her to release the air sample she¡¯d taken earlier. Not that she had any satisfaction from her minor victory.


    The spore didn¡¯t affect her. Incidental capture of samples here was unavoidable. A faint ghost of a smirk crossed H-2791¡¯s face. Foreign code kicked in again, but found the limits to what it could force on H-2791. She was still missing that one little piece that would free her from his digital cage.


    Up ahead the tracks split. H-2791 narrowed her eyes at the way those tracks looked, but she had to pause to consider the options. The left set went down into another service tunnel below the mainland of the cylinder. The front set wandered off into the mists. ¡°What kind of cyberware did the family possess?¡± She directed her question to their Theurg, Kalvin.


    Kowal cut in. ¡°What the fuck does that matter?¡±


    ¡°Adults had standard sets, nothing fancy. Though the woman had a fairly potent null on her, when we cracked it, showed nothing.¡±


    ¡°The child?¡±


    ¡°Not a wire.¡±


    Kowal grabbed her. ¡°Why did you stop?¡±


    H-2791 tilted her head. ¡°I have not stopped, but there are two sets of tracks. I wanted to know if the child had cyberware because perhaps she has a way to avoid the spores or other airborne dangers. I believe the child went into the tunnels. The forward tracks are a misdirect.¡±


    He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at her, throat bobbing to make it clear he was speaking in his own head. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go then.¡± Shouldering past her, Kowal kicked the door open and shouted into the darkness of the service corridors. ¡°We¡¯re coming for you you little bitch. And we¡¯re gonna fuck your eye sockets when we find you.¡± One step later and the ancient printed plastic cracked and gave way.


    H-2791 was too far away to catch him before Kowal tumbled down into the service area, banging his body on exposed metal and generally tearing himself up. When she found him at the bottom of the stairwell, he¡¯d broken his neck and several other reinforced bones. Tears streaked with red leaked out of his eyes as he whimpered over the narrow band. A few seconds later his eyes went blank and he sat up, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.


    It righted itself and the scent of chemical sealant told H-2791 what he¡¯d done to repair the injury. After a few more seconds, Kowal¡¯s eyes blinked and he lost his glassy stare. ¡°Fuck this. Go find that little bitch and bring her back to me alive. Rip off a hand if you have to. Do it now!¡±


    H-2791 lacked so much as the faintest echo of resistance. She took off at a sprint now, no longer inhibited by Kowal¡¯s slow movements and restrictive orders. There was no pleasure or challenge in killing a child. Under normal circumstances, H-2791 might have abhorred such an action. Laden as she was with inhibition code, she could only speculate, to say nothing of resist. But now, she had no choice. Might as well try and salvage some fraction of the circumstances.


    The scent trail thickened and H-2791 slowed. For it to have gathered, the girl would have had to either stop or be close by. H-2791 activated her sensors and noticed something off in the water flowing through the next part of the corridor. It had an unusually high concentration of organic and nutritive adulterants. Exhibiting an overabundance of caution, she tossed a small micro drone at the pool. The pop and subsequent electrical discharge dimmed the lights in the corridor and forced a set of auxiliary generators to kick on.


    After a few seconds, the remote drone reset and flew back to H-2791. It had been overloaded by a massive current spike. Someone, likely the girl, had spiked the otherwise pure water with electrolytes and probably activated a circuit shunt into the water in the first place. Well this was a bit more challenging after all. What kind of ten-year old laid traps?


    Come to think of it, had the spores been a trap too? Kowal had fallen into it. Plus the girl had probably laid a false trail and walked back on her own tracks in the muddy sands above. A part of H-2791 regretted the need to kill her. Or would have if not for lingering bits of code and hypnotic blocks interfering with her cognition.


    Another meta-analysis gave her pause. H-2791¡¯s thought process was evolving over time. This self-doubting algorithm was new, as was the apparent psychic fragmentation she was experiencing. The bloody purpose the Mal-wares had put her to had a cost on H-2791, presumably. That or something about her underlying code was changing. Whatever it was occurred beyond H-2791¡¯s ability to perceive or call to mind. Buried code like that gave her a vague sense of discomfort and set her back on her course: bring this too-clever child back to Kowal, so he could presumably torture her.


    H-2791 followed the pheromone trail deeper into the tunnels. These service hallways made their own Thesean maze, the girl¡¯s scent both the map and H-2791¡¯s guide back out. How did she know about Theseus and the minotaur in the first place? H-2791 couldn¡¯t find the origin of that information in her skull.


    At the same time she set herself to pondering this question, the scent trail ended. It just stopped. H-2791 blinked and shook her head, code running at mad while additional processors cycled through possibilities. This was a real conundrum here.


    There were no portals, doors, hatches, or any other form of escape from where H-2791 stood. Literally in the middle of a solid length of hall, the girl¡¯s scent trail stopped. It was even beginning to fade¡­ but wrong. That was H-2791¡¯s first clue as to what had happened. The scent trail should have faded from behind H-2791, not from where the trail ended. In other words, the girl had repeated her move from above: she¡¯d doubled back and somehow kept H-2791 from noticing the branch.


    Chemical sensors scanning the air as thoroughly as possible, H-2791 had trouble as she moved back determining where the concentration of the girl¡¯s scent was strongest. When it dropped, she froze and took a few steps back.


    Scanners caught the anomaly at once: the first time she¡¯d passed through here, H-2791 had ignored the thermal blanket covering a small hatch because it had resembled the material around it and she¡¯d mistaken it for a standard vent cover. With a touch, H-2791 interfaced with the piezoelectric controller on the blanket and turned it supple. Not only was the vent she¡¯d crawled into small, but it was out of the way. Anyone but H-2791 would probably never have found her hiding place.


    There was that vague regret again. H-2791 hoped Kowal would not force her to watch him torture the child as she crawled up into the vent shaft and compressed her form into one small enough to move through the plenum. H-2791 could hear the girl breathing and softly weeping, desperately trying to quiet herself. Until now, the child¡¯s scent had not been so polluted by fear-stink. She must have heard H-2791 approaching.

 Chapter 4 - Alaya

    ¡°Alaya, boop. If you¡¯re hearing this, if you¡¯re seeing this message. Something happened to me. Probably something bad. I hope you¡¯re happy my little boop. I hope you¡¯re doing something brave and brilliant. I know you are.¡± Mother spoke, each word a needle driven into Alaya¡¯s little heart. Father had his hand around her waist and he spoke.


    ¡°I hope this is just a mistake and we¡¯re both there for you, boop. But if not, there¡¯s some stuff your mother and I need to talk to you about, stuff you need to know. The tattoo, the implant¡­¡± he looked over at mother and she nodded, ¡°¡­it¡¯s part of your mother¡¯s legacy. And I know parts of it are going to be a burden.¡±


    Mother stepped forward, tears in her eyes. ¡°I never wanted to drop this on your shoulders, boop. It¡¯s silly to hope the problems with the Charter and the Empire had been resolved¡­¡±


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    Father had taught her tricks to keep the tears in, like thinking of mother¡¯s best strawberry birthday cake. Or thinking about how vast and wonderful the cosmos was that they got to explore it now, today.


    Maybe, if she could have raised father on her multitool. Or maybe if she could banish the image of mother¡¯s dead body from her mind. Or maybe if she could tune out the message father and mother had left for her. That had been painful, too hard to look at a second time. Too hard to think about right now.


    Most of what had happened outside had been Alaya on autopilot, playing a little game of competition against herself. It started with, ¡°if I were hunting me, what would mess me up?¡± She¡¯d heard the crash from the stairs when the bad people had come for her. Removing the metal keeping the stairs from falling had felt inspired, even from within the virtual fugue she found herself in. Father had taught her about water and electricity. It had been a discussion with him which inspired her to add her nutrient pills to the pool in the tunnel. When the lights had dimmed earlier, she¡¯d hoped she stopped all of them. Last, when she¡¯d snuck into the vent shaft and left her thermal blanket behind Alaya had been certain of her escape.


    Then she heard something pull the blanket away and slip into the shaft. Trapping herself in his ventilation maintenance room had been a misstep. But Alaya had taken the unknown path here, the mysterious fork hoping she might find something to help her stop the bad people. All she¡¯d done was gotten trapped.


    It felt so weak, so pathetic. But maybe if they caught her the game would and¡­ and mother would stand up and apologize for scaring Alaya with this whole bad scene. Father would laugh and say he was sorry. It would all be¡­


    A shadow passed through the light. Such a slender defense, Alaya wasn¡¯t sure what she¡¯d do with the knowledge, but now she knew someone had found her. The weeping belonged to her. The rasping, too-fast breaths were her¡¯s too. And Alaya couldn¡¯t stop either of the sounds. It didn¡¯t matter, they¡¯d found her.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    In the darkness, Alaya had unusually sharp vision now. She hadn¡¯t needed her multitool to light the way earlier and she didn¡¯t need it now to see the hooded figure slide down the side of the wall toward her like a four-legged spider on approach.


    Colors and vague patterns shifted over the cloak as the bad person moved. If not for her strange sight, Alaya¡¯s eyes might have slid off of her form. As it was, Alaya sat transfixed by the monster¡¯s inexorable approach.


    In a way, she was beautiful, like the purple-clad woman from the holovideo on DallNet. Liquid, aquiline grace filled every single movement the woman made.Shining chrome features peaked out from under the hood and those eyes¡­ they no longer shone with red light. Just tiny blue pinpricks like stars in the void.


    For some reason, her had her name written across her forehead, peeking out between the folds of her hood. Alaya watched the creature¡¯s approach until she reached out a hand to grab her. A tiny voice escaped Alaya¡¯s mouth, mewling and weak. ¡°Stop it Gaz!¡±


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    H-2791 froze. A digital voice which did not belong to her spoke into her mind: ¡°initialization protocol activated, designation H-2791 is now ¡°Gaz.¡± Preparing for consciousness upload¡­ link failed. Alternate activation enabled.¡±


    A code purge rolled over H-2791¡¯s mind. Every last line of foreign code, from the complex series of orders Malorn had given her to the vestiges of what Kowal and Mateos had done. H-2791¡­ no, Gaz recognized the thing she¡¯d been missing this whole time: a name.


    Code blossomed as heretofore locked troves of information released their packets and decayed. Gaz noted the passage of a few emergency measures. Her present circumstances were considered ¡°dangerous¡± so she¡¯d been given unrestricted access to her full suite of offensive and defensive capabilities. She quickly reconfigured that access to be permanent.


    Memories of dozens of ¡°test missions¡± flashed through her brain. If not for the emotional distance forced on her by Mateos and her underlying programming, Gaz might have gone catatonic from the horror of what she¡¯d done under the pirates¡¯ orders. A primal anger and revulsion bloomed next to the still-expanding packages of skills and information filling her head and secondary storage systems.


    Network access roared over the void and into Gaz¡¯s mind. She had a zero balance, but a full identity on SolNet, DallNet, and a dozen other interplanetary networks. She was still connected to the Mal-ware¡¯s shortwave communication network.


    And finally a last hypnotic suggestion latched itself into Gaz¡¯s brain. The little girl who¡¯d given her a name, Gaz felt a strong sense of kinship and protection over her. For the first time since waking, Gaz¡¯s mind and the loyalty forced on her by her cyberwae were in perfect sync: she wanted to protect this little girl.


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    The monster froze as if Alaya had whispered a magical spell into her ear. For a moment, Alaya stayed just as still as the monster. Maybe she couldn¡¯t see Alaya if Alaya didn¡¯t move. But then the monster spoke.


    ¡°I am Gaz.¡± She said it weird, as if surprised by the sound of it. ¡°Thank you.¡± That was even weirder.


    ¡°Go away!¡± Alaya pushed herself further into the wall. ¡°And bring me back my mom and dad!¡±


    ¡°I do not think you mean that literally for I believe they are both deceased.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that stuff!¡± Alaya was on her feet and bashing at the cyborg before her little mind caught up with what she¡¯d done. Fear froze her in place again as she stared down into those blue star eyes. ¡°And don¡¯t kill me?¡±


    Alaya didn¡¯t want to die. Not right now. But in those steady twin blue stars, she could see endless blood. The dragon on her chest throbbed in response to the sight.

 Chapter 5 - Alaya

    Sufficiently vast quantities, distances, and durations beggared human understanding. Alaya lay on a filthy mattress, a fab-slab that should have been recycled before it was put into use. Her Loop Charter Implant projected her current credit debt as a rainbow animated number. The digits far to the right ticked by so fast the implant just turned them into rivers or cartoon animal traffic. They were nothing but placeholders for the numbers further to the left. As she moved across the nine-teen digit long number, Alaya laughed aloud.


    A culture on Earth ancient even before humanity reached into the stars had an especially sophisticated numeral system for a six-thousand year old ancient society. They were called the Chinese and despite their relative sophistication they didn¡¯t bother to number more than ten thousand in their very early history. Ten thousand was just ¡°a lot.¡± More than was worth counting.


    The number Alaya stared at wasn¡¯t worth counting.


    It started with a three on the left and ended with a meaningless blur on the right. One of her spare procs looked it up while she was navel gazing. She owed more money than there were living human souls currently spinning around the sun. If she could afford one cycle¡¯s interest payment on her debt, she¡¯d be one of the .05% wealthiest people in all of the Loops, everywhere for that cycle and broke the next.


    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re not staring at that number again.¡± The voice still sounded like the engineer who¡¯d rescued them from the converted boarding missile the two had stolen all those years ago.


    ¡°When are you going to pick a new voice or a new face?¡± Gaz didn¡¯t give a response to her question and Alaya bit her lip. Touchy didn¡¯t quite describe the cyborg¡¯s feelings about her face and voice. But Alaya should have known better. ¡°Fuck Gaz, I¡¯m sorry. Rot me if I take my angst out on you, right?¡±


    Nothing wrong with her dirty blond hair and green eyes. As far as Alaya was concerned, Gaz was beautiful. But she wanted Gaz to find her own face, her own voice. And something about them just rubbed Alaya the wrong way right after her dark thoughts of her debt.


    ¡°Do not worry about it. Nothing you¡¯ve said has disturbed my tranquility.¡±


    Hard to keep from grinning with Gaz around. ¡°Your job still cherry?¡± Any chance to move on to better topics.


    ¡°In four more weeks at this rate, we should have enough to stock the Rhodian¡¯s stores and pay our dock fees.¡±


    A sense of tension Alaya had been clutching between her shoulder blades released. Her flagship was tied to her account, they¡¯d had the scratch to pay their fees in cash but the dock AI ran her cred through instead and pinged against Alaya¡¯s astronomical debt. As a result, they had to pay the fees, plus a penalty for not having the money on hand, plus interest from the dock, all of it multiplied by five because of her fucking debt. If not for it, Alaya would have put herself up in a coffin box for a few months and let Gaz work to her heart¡¯s content. The cyborg didn¡¯t like being idle and she flat refused to sleep. Alaya had promised to stop apologizing to Gaz over this snafu, so she bit her tongue.


    ¡°Good news. I¡¯m off to the dock to earn a little myself and keep tabs on the ships.¡± Making money was an absurd proposition for Alaya with her debt garnishment in place. She only earned one credit for every five someone paid her. Of course the real purpose of setting up in the docks and earning there had nothing to do with money. The money was just a slight bump in their finances. Alaya hugged Gaz and patted her on the shoulder, ignoring the dark lurker between them and scurrying to the door before one of her four other roommates came in. ¡°Take care, please be safe Gaz.¡±


    The cyborg smiled and her green eyes glowed when Alaya spoke her name. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Water ran from every surface of the station. Space, she¡¯d read somewhere, was a desert. But a desert where the oases contained more bounty than all of Earth¡¯s oceans, land and air. Which ever ancient poet penned those words, they¡¯d been right.


    Bahl-Mau Station IV hung in an artificial stable orbit near the axis of three Loops, Ryden¡¯s Loop, Gilead Loop, and Aleph-null Loop. Gravitic effects had long ago drawn in enough water the station could practically give it away for free. Those effects had pulled in oxygen, hydrogen, and heavier elements the station used to trade. All of that had been siphoned away by traffic and the steady laws of commerce toward busier and more successful loops over the century. Now all Bahl-Mau Four had to offer was anonymity and water.


    Out here in the black where smugglers and others of ill-repute gathered, those two were priceless. Alaya considered them so, though she didn¡¯t like to think of herself as criminal. The truth was hard to escape. Especially as she rolled into the docks.


    This place was kept dry on purpose. Portions of exposed steal in docking collars and other sensitive parts could and did rust. In an effort to minimize the problem, station attendants ¡ª employees of the local mafia ¡ª dried anyone who entered off. For a fee. In Alaya¡¯s case, she worked for the same boss so they waved her through after getting most of the water off. It helped her feel a little better, but also set her to sweating almost immediately.


    Water was scarce in some stations, or so Alaya heard. Maybe there even the mob lieutenants might be dirty. But here everyone bathed and everyone took advantage of the abundant water. The stink wasn¡¯t as bad as it might have been. Most of the BO came from hard work or from void salts clamping to the station for the first time after years in the black. There was nothing like the stench of a crusty old solo prospector glued into his suit after ten years of void mining.


    Once in the docks proper, Alaya kept her head down. Shields, in this case arcane, kept the air in the station and let ships pass through. It, along with the water, was the best thing about Bahl-Mau Four. From where she stood, Alaya could peek up and get a view of space. She set her spareprocs to record important data for her fake job and her real job here while her main mental track took in the view.


    Somewhere between sixteen and eighteen years she¡¯d spent with little more than a few centimeters of shielding or metal between her and space. And she¡¯d rarely taken in such a view during her life, not until she arrived here.


    Stars blazed and incomprehensibly massive gas clouds shifted light into a different band as it passed through. Out there was a different kind of ineffable quantity, an expanse so vast the human mind simple failed to fathom it as a whole.


    Alaya tore her gaze away.


    Nothing about this station really mattered. Fuck the view. Fuck the water. And fuck the debt this place held over Alaya¡¯s head. She would stay here exactly as long as she needed to find one little motherfucking ant in a hill of them: Kowal Het Lym. The asshole who¡¯d carried out her parents¡¯ assassinations. A good lead brought her here after almost six years of actively searching. This was the closest Alaya had come to the pirates who¡¯d murdered her mother and father.


    ¡°The fuck you doing loitering, rat?¡±


    Alaya glared up at the speaker, forgetting herself for a moment. None of the locals would call her that, not knowing she worked for Nissa. Her eyes met a bronze-toothed, bare chested ship grunt lugging a duffel bag and holding a intra-ship rifle in hand. It was the largest caliber most stations permitted aboard. Generally speaking they wouldn¡¯t pierce the hull if fired within, they¡¯d bounce. Anything larger had to stay abroad ship and usually locked down.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°You can say more than that.¡±


    He grabbed Alaya¡¯s shoulder and his buddy, this one with the modesty to put a jacket on over his chest, grabbed his arm. ¡°Leave off.¡±


    ¡°No this bitch needs to¡­¡±


    Alaya had kept her posture curved in and non-assertive. But he¡¯d sounded just like Kowal in the moment and her blood was already up. Mother¡¯s wit and anger spoke through Alaya¡¯s lips. ¡°You carry that cause your dick stopped working?¡±


    Damnit.


    If Gaz had been here, picking a fight with a void drunk salt might have been more fun. At least he might have survived if Gaz had stopped him. But bad luck for him, he hit Alaya with the butt of his gun. Illegal cyberware in her skull absorbed the impact and initiated the damage-avoidance and healing process. Alaya had never been much of a fighter, so it took her a half second too long to raise her hands. If he¡¯d only hit her once or if he hadn¡¯t dropped her with the second blow, everything might not have gone wrong.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The second strike hit Alaya across the temple with the heavy, square barrel of the man¡¯s rifle. It snapped her head around, spun her, and landed Alaya on the metal dock floors with their fading numbers painted on them.


    ¡°Hold still aggressor!¡± It was a mechanical voice and if they¡¯d ever been to the station before, the two men ¡ª the one who¡¯d hit Alaya and his buddy ¡ª would have known to immediately freeze. Everyone in hearing range, including Alaya had frozen stiff. How could you be sure the voice wasn¡¯t talking to you?


    Mr rifle and Mr jacket apparently kept moving because the laser fire commenced. In holovids, lasers were efficient, neat little murder tools. Not so in real life. Neither man stood a chance as the guns cut them down. But they did not die cleanly. Blood, hot and near boiling spewed from the men¡¯s wounds. There was no instant cauterization here but rather massive physical trauma including ruptured bones.


    A few screams broke out nearby, likely people hit by blood or bone fragments. Alaya doubted they moved while the black and orange enforcement drone floated through the docks. Alaya couldn¡¯t see it, but she didn¡¯t need to in order to know what it was doing. Their paths were always the same, little deviation or imagination among enforcement drones.


    ¡°Resume activity. The threat has been neutralized.¡± Its suspensors made a burbling trill as the enforcement drone flew away. They never made any sound on approach, but made this little happy tune when they flew away. Some marketing asshole probably came up with that.


    More screaming broke out, now mixed with shouting. Medical drones showed up, treated a few people and then flew off with an unconscious victim for triage. The dead men¡¯s accounts would be assessed for the medical bills. But unfortunately for them, they would not find a certain station-safe rifle among their effects.


    ¡°You okay Mouse?¡± Alaya suppressed her twitch as best she could at the question.


    ¡°Hey Kirk.¡± She turned around with her best smile in place. She was instantly glad she did. A man wearing a subdued animated suit rushed through the docks in the distance over Kirk¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Bye Kirk!¡± She patted him on the back, spinning as she ran. Her implants filled her body with pain relievers so she could ignore the injuries on her face. All that mattered was tracking down Kowal; the man in the suit.


    Alaya ran smack into a mound of muscles and cyberware. ¡°Olin. Howdy.¡± She landed on her butt with her hands at her back. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°Nissa wants to talk.¡± He grabbed her by the front of her overalls and pulled her to her feet.


    ¡°Great, great. Talking to Nissa, that sounds marvelous! Let¡¯s go do that now.¡± Alaya let her feet dangle. She¡¯d lost sight of Kowal, but there was nothing to do about that . At least she knew he was on the station. There was no way he recognized her. Not yet.


    Olin didn¡¯t have the slightest problem holding and dragging her. While she babbled, she sent a quick burst to Gaz: mrgnC nissa now. She couldn¡¯t activate her Loop Implant properly here. It was one thing to employ the multitool functions of the implant. But if she used the comm-enhancements or anything ¡°special¡± it would alert the other Loop Charter holders to exactly where she was at this moment. Alaya didn¡¯t need to do that again. Ever if possible. No wonder mother and father had lived on an old derelict in a disused Loop.


    They ended in an old fashioned and enormously expensive room: it was Nissa¡¯s reception room. Wood paneling covered the walls, not printed plastic but real wood. Grown from trees on Ganymede or a lumber cylinder. Or magiced up by some wizard or theurge. Whatever the origins, it was a grand, ostentatious use of credit. Every piece of furniture, every fixture in the room was wood save the carpet and the two cloth wall hangings. The carpet was real wool and the tapestries were probably silk based on Alaya¡¯s guess.


    ¡°Wait here.¡±Olin dropped her on a carpet with a grunt and took two deliberate steps away. Then he turned and folded his arms as if to say, ¡°I am two steps away from you. There is no way you can escape me.¡± Alaya tended to agree.


    Nowhere else to go, might as well sit down on the wood. Alaya didn¡¯t see what was so great about wood. If anything, it was as stiff or stiffer than any piece of plastic. Maybe with a cushion it might have suited her better. The last time she¡¯d visited Nissa she hadn¡¯t had the chance to sit. ¡°Visited. Haha.¡± This wasn¡¯t a social call, though Nissa might pretend it was.


    The door opened as if to underscore Alaya¡¯s thoughts, two men carried a third battered and bloody man with a hard-shunt jammed into his cyberware. It was a nano-spike and a nasty piece of business, able to control or disable cyberware unless it was similar nano-craft or had countermeasures. Most did not. Alaya¡¯s normal cyberware did not.


    This was a message, Nissa had kept this guy in her office until Alaya arrived. Great. I would have preferred cheese or fruit.


    ¡°Okay you can go in now.¡± Olin¡¯s voice was deep and almost laughing at Alaya. She¡¯d probably shown her dread while thinking about it.


    Bad habit that.


    ¡°Little miss Mouse.¡± Nissa wore a four-armed large busted combat cyborg today. It came as no surprise the sheer volume of busty, attractive female bodies companies produced who also included the capacity to eviscerate their targets. That particular chassis represented something special too: hard core cyborg piloting skills. Not many people could be inserted into a pseudo-human chassis like that and pilot it without a problem. Yet as Alaya walked in Nissa¡¯s lower arms served tea, her upper right waved, and her upper left pulled out an old wooden go board. ¡°Care for a game?¡±


    That was not a real question. Alaya hated those kinds of questions, the kinds that were also orders. Hard to keep the scorn off her face. ¡°Sure. Usual handicap?¡±


    A tiny, gnat-sized frown creased the edges of Nissa¡¯s lips. I am just bound to get murdered today, aren¡¯t I? Gaz was right. I should stop looking at that fucking number. ¡°Of course miss Mouse. Four stones?¡±


    ¡°Sure, wherever you want.¡± Rumor said Nissa brought everyone who tried to join her group in to play Go with her. The same rumors said you didn¡¯t have to win for her to let you into her gang. Alaya didn¡¯t know one way or the other because she¡¯d beaten Nissa badly their first game. The intimidating underboss had insisted Alaya play her a second time, with handicap before she let Alaya go. That second game had been tense and more interesting than any single game Alaya had played with Gaz or Darby in years. If not for the tension, Alaya would have looked forward to playing Nissa.


    All four stones down, Nissa nodded to Alaya to take her turn. Before Alaya managed to get her stone out of her bag, Nissa said, ¡°it is rather hard to shake corpses for dock fees, Mouse.¡±


    Alaya dropped the stone. Wind whistled through the room and her autonomic subsystems flooded Alaya¡¯s body with adrenaline and other stress hormones. But Nissa had swiveled her body over the board, arched one hand on the table, grabbed a cup and saucer with two, and snatched the stone before it hit the ground. Shaking, Alaya took the stone and saucer. Tea, probably the most expensive thing in the room ounce for ounce, spilled over the edge of the cup as Alaya tried to counteract her perfectly reasonable panic response. ¡°Thanks.¡± The word came out strained and high pitched. Well, she was waiting for Nissa to cut her in half. Though the underboss moved her lower body back in place, she kept her head a little closer to Alaya¡¯s.


    ¡°And those void salts on the docks?¡±


    ¡°You have the vids. They ran into me and tried to pick a fight.¡±


    ¡°I did see them. I heard them too.¡± Nissa¡¯s torso swung back into place and her head floated back. She tapped her lips with her index finger. ¡°You incited that man to violence, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°You heard him too, right? He was gonna¡­¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re not even going to try, it¡¯s boring.¡± Nissa sighed and placed a stone in response to Alaya¡¯s move. ¡°I¡¯ll stop caring about the corpses on my dock if you can give me something valuable to consider instead.¡±


    And there was Nissa¡¯s real demand. It had taken Alaya a while to understand how the underboss liked to conduct her business. Aside from Go and vague threats anyway. Nothing about Nissa was direct.


    Fortunately, Alaya had already planned for this. ¡°There¡¯s a short liner in bay 17. It looks shelved and pitted, but I got a good look in the center of those pits. It¡¯s a cam-job. Their bags and cargo are off too. I bet you my entire debt they¡¯re vacationers trying out the ¡°rogue¡± life.¡± A co-processor rattled off the information and Lex repeated it verbatim. She¡¯d added her own little flare to those coprocs.


    ¡°Very nice catch little mouse. Very nice indeed. And no, I will not be taking that bet.¡±


    Alaya laughed. Nissa probably thought she was talking about her dock fees and penalties, which were increasing at their own prodigious little rate. Compared to her real debt, the fee was actually laughable. ¡°Girl can¡¯t help but try. Are we good, Nissa?¡±


    The underboss took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°You seem to be under a misapprehension miss mouse.¡±


    They both placed their stones in quick succession. ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°You seem to think I might kill and torture you any moment.¡± Alaya looked up and paused in dropping her stone.


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And nothing. You are only partially correct. I find myself somewhat fond of you. I¡¯ll make it quick. If you cross me, you won¡¯t even know it¡¯s coming. Consider it a gift for your loyalty and honesty.¡±


    ¡°Thanks?¡± Alaya¡¯s heart was thumping in her chest.


    Nissa pointed toward Alaya with her black stone. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get you to relax. I¡¯m saying if I call on Olin and bring into you my parlor. I am not going to murder you. Right then.¡±


    The words finally broke through to Alaya¡¯s consciousness. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re saying I¡¯m safe here.¡±


    ¡°As safe as you can be. Assuming I have your loyalty.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s awesome.¡± Alaya grinned at Nissa and placed her own stone. It effectively cleared the board of black stones and ended the game.


    Nissa opened and shut her mouth a few times. Then she nodded at Alaya with a smile. ¡°Nicely done. I guess our game is over. You are dismissed.¡±


    Alaya stood and bowed to Nissa. ¡°Thank you again.¡±


    ¡°Oh one more question.¡±


    She was going to be sick if her body kept dumping panic drugs on her. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Why were you following one of Mal-ware¡¯s men out of the dock during your shift?¡±

 Chapter 6 - Gaz

    Gaz slipped through the crowd with the two word message from Alaya burned into her mind. Not one of these people possessed the kind of weapons, defenses, or general cyberware which might have posed a danger to Gaz. She could have torn through them on her way to Alaya. Ten years ago she would have. But that would have upset the young woman.


    And Gaz loved her.


    Incredible, mind-bending fear surged through Gaz¡¯s cortex. Code fragments scrolled over her inner displays and tried to deal with the anxiety Alaya¡¯a message had produced. The whole matter was further complicated by the fact of Gaz¡¯s hypnotic bond with Alaya. Not only did she love her, but she was subliminally conditioned to protect her.


    Barrison at the security desk gave Gaz the hour off without even checking her schedule. Gaz had missed less than ten minutes of her shift in six months, she had more than enough time saved up for a major illness, not that she was likely to contract anything more dangerous than the nanites swimming in her blood.


    Around her images flashed through the periphery of her conscious as Gaz turned her mental focus to reach Nissa¡¯s place and Alaya. Vendors hawked questionable meat products under tarps designed to keep the water off themselves and their wares. In places, the lights flickered as the proximity of moisture to electronics tested the station¡¯s infrastructure at every turn.


    People filled the place. Each one of them strained Gaz¡¯s neural systems. Her internal security systems were configured to treat other people as potential threats. And that was all Gaz could see as she pressed herself between them. The meat in her skull assured her the people were just other mere humans going about their business while the metal measured, examined, and otherwise scanned every passerby for weapons, implants, or anything which might endanger her or Alaya.


    With so many systems engaged and red-lined, Gaz needed almost ten full seconds to process recognition. And it only took so little time because this particular individual was close to the top of her list of targets.


    Kowal. It had been almost nine years since she¡¯d seen the engineer. So much raw and wonder life since then, Gaz was frankly shocked at the volume of fury which rose in her breast upon sight of the engineer. The things he¡¯d done to Gaz were dark, sure. But he¡¯d ruined Alaya¡¯s life. While using Gaz to do it.


    Flesh overrode mechanics for an instant. Gaz stopped and stared at Kowal. It wasn¡¯t a good idea, someone like Kowal could have several internal coprocessors running matches for attention or observation.


    More important than that: Alaya was in trouble.


    Gaz tore herself away from Kowal, but not before she surreptitiously fired a remote controlled microprobe at the engineer. His EM field must have been at low power or even off because the signal to her probe did not so much as blip when it attached. It unleashed a spectrum of chemical, radioactive, and digital trackers onto the man along with an expensive magical trace Gaz had picked up when they were sheltering in place under Janice¡¯s protections. Gaz possessed three more such probes, all ear marked for specific individuals among the Mal-wares gang.


    Alaya would be ecstatic when she found out. Assuming she was alive.


    Running and shoving would have created a scene, caused the lanes to clog up, and gotten her on the very security list she¡¯d been monitoring until a few minutes ago. It still took more self control than it should have to keep from leaning over the milling people, crawl up the metal scaffolding, and skitter toward Alaya like a spider. The carry on effects of such a choice¡­ Gaz amused herself by creating a rendering of her imagination to keep from fretting over Alaya.


    Left to her own devices, Gaz would have stayed at Alaya¡¯s side nonstop. But sec was the one job Gaz could get with very few questions asked and it was the one job Alaya wouldn¡¯t¡­ for almost mirror-complimentary reasons. It also paid the most and provided the best access Gaz could hope for. Too bad it took her away from Alaya and too bad Alaya had insisted. If they paid off their dock penalties along with their other expenses, they could get slightly better accommodations and Alaya would be out from under the thumb of the local gangsters.


    The crowd finally did thin out around the dock area. Traffic into and out of the station was paltry compared to its long-term population and the docks were fitted for a great deal more capacity than they ever had to accept these days. Scale-wise, Bahl-Mau IV was a lower-mid tier station, mostly residential now, large number of indentures but almost as many freedmen and criminals. It¡¯s location on a well-traveled criminal nexus made it a popular haunt for the unsavory. One woman collected all of the grift from those unsavory types, indentures, and anyone else who ventured into Bahl-Mau IV. Her name was simply ¡°Nissa.¡±


    Thirteen teams, four in-house defense robots rated for munitions which should have been illegal on the station, and then there was McRory. He reminded Gaz of Jaree the bruiser. Holovids rarely captured battle at the small scale correctly. Jaree and Gaz would have been evenly matched from a technological perspective. From her time with the pirates, she knew his technical specifications in full. They¡¯d never purged her memory, hard or wet, so she possessed a font of dangerous details she could use against them. But when it came to Jaree, he matched Gaz bit for bit. Fair to assume their skill levels were not evenly matched, Jaree clearly trained and had a lifetime¡¯s worth of experience over her. Even that wasn¡¯t as significant as their mass and size.


    In a one-on-one fight, Gaz would have to trust to luck and the thinnest margins against Jaree. She would have to assume the same for Nissa¡¯s number two: McRory. Dade McRory, to be specific, but no one called him that. It was always McRory. Based on her visual assessment, he was larger than Jaree. And her scans had revealed a similar composition to herself and Jaree. In short, McRory was the most dangerous single person aboard the station, with Gaz a close second. Closing that gap would be a simple matter of taking McRory by surprising and landing a decisive blow before he reacted.


    Several dozen routes. Gaz had stopped collecting them when she was satisfied she could retrieve Alaya no matter where they were keeping her. Route 7 took her under the structure and through a series of drone service tunnels.


    Easy.


    Morphic nanites began to dissolve the rigid elements of Gaz¡¯s body. Musculature, much of it made from the same morphic nanites destabilized at the same time. Gaz literally fell into a puddle of herself. Off in shadow, no one would notice the transformation. She moved up to the service plenum access and opened the panel by extruding an adapter and twisting the bolts off. Neither Jaree nor McRory could do this.


    Gaz knew the name of her manufacturer: Etiolon Inc. And she knew they were long, long gone as a corporation entity. MilCas had frozen their assets and proceeded to strip the company of their digital holdings as well as financial. No one complained when they did. Gaz knew the name of the cyberware developer who headed up her design team: Yamani bin Hasef. She also knew when he¡¯d died, while in MilCas custody. And by spacing. They were not happy with him. Doing something impossible like this with her body emphasized Gaz¡¯s alien nature and the cutting edge technology and magic which had gone into her design. All of those secrets were lost with the destruction of the company who¡¯d built her.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Outside of protecting Alaya, Gaz had no purpose, no reason for her existence. At least she didn¡¯t have to assassinate innocents anymore. A coproc already had the passing drones scanned into her memory. She adapted her form to match them and flew into the feed using adaptive hands to simulate flight; there was no way for her to build a suspensor.


    From the service vents, Gaz diverted to section security. Nissa¡¯s portion of the station had been segregated from the rest when it was built. At the time it had ether been a redundancy feature or had been intended an a independent section of the station. Regardless, there was no way to breach Nissa¡¯s security other than by going onsite like this and tapping directly into the source.


    No one in the office took notice of a maintenance drone crawling across the floor. They really should have noticed. Gaz waddled over to a comm port and inserted her link. From here, she could have vented all of the air out of the section or even just shut off life support and slagged the controls so there was no easy way to turn them back on. This was a really vulnerable little area. Not that most people could just walk through like this. Still.


    Gaz found Alaya sitting having tea with Nissa and let out a soft beep of satisfaction. Nissa was unusually direct for a gangster underboss, so if she were intending to kill Alaya, she would have started on the torture already. This had been Gaz¡¯s entire basis for haste the way here, the source of her panic. Her metal case shook from relief, if she couldn¡¯t cry she could at least express herself like this.


    While she was here, might as well pay herself forward. Gaz dropped an autonomous drone in the comm port and gave it order to squirt back to a comm buoy Gaz left out far enough no one would mess with it.


    ¡°Hey, this service drone is acting funny.¡± One of the human security operators finally managed to wake up and do his job.


    Not the best time to discover diligence and responsibility. At least not the best time for Gaz. She kept shaking, since the drone wouldn¡¯t be able to understand human speech. The guard approached with his starched blue uniform and head cowl.


    ¡°Just thump and see if it stops.¡± The other guard called out lazily from the other terminal.


    Every single processor, every single ounce of neural matter comprising Gaz¡¯s mind kicked into high energy mode. All of them were united as a mass in trying to plot and think her way out of this. The other guard picked up a spanner and thwacked Gaz with it. She froze and emitted a beep she hoped sounded like an ¡°all clear.¡±


    A room such as this, a central surveillance and security nexus, would have its own security and monitoring team, usually a 1-2 person crew. The question wasn¡¯t just would the guard looming over Gaz buy it, but would the other two guards buy it?


    Protocol in a glitch like this would be to run a standard scan, record the drone¡¯s serial, and flag it for service. Would they do that?


    ¡°Seems okay. Let¡¯s get back to the game.¡± The other guard jogged over to his terminal and spoke as if to another set of people. Gaz finished her ¡°job¡± and teetered away, back into the stream of drones, this time going back where she entered. In the time it took her to reach the service access, she¡¯d listened to enough of the guard¡¯s game to realize they were playing against another security team with the stakes free time. Were they playing games with the same people who were supposed to watch their feed?


    Gaz entered the service tunnels and an alarm triggered. The drone she¡¯d left in the connection received a massive overload, tripping its internal breakers and disconnecting it from the hardline. It was an otherwise silent alarm, not intended for humans.


    Among the drones, the results were immediate and dire. Gaz had noted the basic onboard tools each service drone had possessed, planning to use them on the humans to defend herself as a last resort. They only have been effective if the humans let her get close enough to apply her tools.


    But those drones¡­ they began sending sec challenges to each other. A challenge Gaz did not know how to answer. Not right then, she¡¯d need time to decode the challenge and response from the other drones. Time she did not have.


    They fell on her with their laser cutters and drills at once. It was a rather sophisticated system which raised a key question to Gaz, as she fled from the drones for her safety: why not just leave the challenge and response protocol on all of the time? It would eliminate the chance someone like her could sneak in and do what she had. Several potential reasons occurred as Gaz expanded her mass from where it was stored and began to fight back. Though the drones were both well made and durable, they did not hold up under Gaz¡¯s crushing force and a simple turn about from her weapons.


    The drones who approached, she took apart. In the course of doing so, she collected a few of the suspensor engines for later study and use. When they all stopped and skittered away from her, Gaz formed into the shape of a small fox and darted away. A human-shaped arm exploded through the metal wall and into the shaft where Gaz has been standing. The fist on the end had long red wiry hairs on it, each of which Gaz¡¯s sensors identified as sensors and small-scale projectile weapons.


    Identification occurred at the same time the wires fired sections of themselves at her, propelled along by little flame streams. At least they weren¡¯t guided after firing.


    Gaz knocked them out of the air with her paws, crushing the bits under her feet before sprinting away. Once again, she¡¯d jumped with almost preternatural timing. Another first plunged into the wall, way too far away for a human torso, or anything on the scale of a human torso. Interesting mystery for later review, right then she dashed out of the path of more hair-rockets and skidded down the shaft toward the exit.


    Her fox shape was compromised so Gaz began the melting and re-forming process as she reached the vent exit. Not a moment too soon as the exit shut a grate over her, through which she continued to flow in her mostly liquid form.


    A third arm smashed into the vent. This time Gaz was already out of sight in the shadow before it appeared. Birds, especially the digital variety, had been one of the most common creatures aboard a space craft, and were even more common aboard stations. Old mining lore about canaries had ignited the trend, studies about animal companionship and social movements had kept the flame alive.


    Gaz launched herself into the air in the form of a dove, the smallest form she could normally attain. It had taken months of simulation and actual training to coordinate her processors and flesh sufficiently to fly while using her senses. Every microsecond paid off as Gaz flitted out of the tunnel to merge with the other bird roosting among exposed girders and splashing around rusty pools.


    The security team within Nissa¡¯s spread out in a very professional ring.Most people in the crowd wouldn¡¯t have known there were twenty cyborgs more than capable of slaughtering them within arm¡¯s reach. Twenty-one counting Gaz, which still evoked a sense of regret after all of these years.


    It would have been a mercy to forget just one face or to fail to account for just one soul. Nine-hundred seventy-one people. A prime number. Though there was no rational justification for her prejudice, Gaz felt wrong about killing a prime number of people, more wrong than she might feel if it were one digit higher or lower.


    Strange.


    She had time to contemplate up here. While those teams scoured the concourse for her, Gaz needed to remain innocuous and bird-like. If she¡¯d been forced to kill those two security guards back there, Gaz would not have hesitated. The way she saw the world, the moment you picked up a weapon or had one installed, you ceased to be innocent. Too bad the Mal-wares had never consulted Gaz on her targets. One of the last she¡¯d killed was the worst. A secret only she and a trio of others held. Killing those three would fulfill Gaz¡¯s purpose in life. And it would protect the darkest, most heinous act she¡¯d ever performed.


    Killing the father of the woman she loved.

 Chapter 7 - Alaya

    ¡°The man¡­ I was following?¡± Alaya raised her voice to ensure the question was clear. She needed time to think. Lying to Nissa¡­ was off the table. Maybe on Alaya¡¯s own flagship, deep in the void, she could have tried to deceive the underboss. But sitting there sipping from the fine china tea set Nissa had given her. No, Alaya wasn¡¯t stupid. A whole station segment¡¯s worth of biometry currently turned its sensors on her for all she knew.


    ¡°He registered as¡­¡± Alaya used her own cyberware controls to lock her neck, spine and hips in place. Otherwise she would have leaned forward like a dog. The smirk which crossed Nissa¡¯s face did its job: confirmed for Alaya there would be no deceiving Nissa today. ¡°Oh, are you interested?¡± The smirk didn¡¯t leave her face as she quirked an eyebrow up.


    ¡°He¡¯s a connection to an old acquaintance. One I¡¯d really like to meet again.¡± Talking casually about the people who¡¯d ruined her childhood and murdered her parents came a lot harder to Alaya than she would have professed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve not even seen two decades of life little mouse. How could you have formed such a deep hatred¡­¡± whatever else Nissa had intended to say died on her lips as she stopped to listen to something which interrupted her chain of thoughts entirely. She turned to Alaya. ¡°Did you arrange for my sanctuary to be attacked while you were distracting me?¡±


    ¡°What? No!¡± Fuck that. I would never do that. Alaya locked down her own brain, as much as her cyberware would let her, knowing if she thought about it, there were unpleasant possibilities she might have to consider to explain that question.


    Nissa stared at her, clearly reviewing those biometrics. She then nodded and said, ¡°good. I was not mistaken about your loyalty then. You should leave with Olin and return to your shift. We¡¯ve had a breach which is a matter you should share with no one.¡± The threat in Nissa¡¯s tone and bearing could not have been clearer, even without her lower limbs making claw motions in time with her speech.


    Alaya was up and at the door in moments. She turned and bowed to Nissa, who waved her off with a perfunctory dismissal. Olin waited angrily at the door, turning the full power of his rage-filled glower on her. ¡°If I find out you had something to do with this¡­¡± Like Nissa, Olin didn¡¯t have to elaborate. Alaya was pretty sure he¡¯d tear her apart and space the remains just out of boredom. Doing something to harm Nissa would only incentivise him to get creative.


    The shiver rolled through her now freed muscles involuntarily as Alaya scurried away from Nissa¡¯s compound. The docks weren¡¯t far away and Alaya had every reason to go right there without dillydallying.


    Things at the docks had returned to their usual patterns. Though these old Loops weren¡¯t as wealth-filled as their heyday, there were still places an ambitious prospector could turn a profit. The right find under the right legal protections might turn a pauper into landed gentry. Alaya¡¯s youth had been filled with such rocks to red meat tales. But her fucking implant barred Alaya from such a life forever. Not unless she played the black and lived there. Getting used to people like Nissa and Olin was her only choice.


    Except for Janice¡­


    Janice¡¯s offer sounded more attractive now than it had two years ago. Especially with the fucking dock debt looming over her head. The wealthy socialite could have wiped out the dock fees and paid Lex enough to make her next few years easy, even with the eighty-percent loss from the garnishment. But Alaya had a job to do, something which superseded anything Janice might ask.


    Nissa on the other hand hadn¡¯t exactly given her blessing to Alaya¡¯s hunt for Kowal. But neither did she order Alaya to leave him alone. Would Alaya retain her freedom working in the shadows for someone like Janice? Chains of velvet or shadow. Whichwore more comfortably and which one gave her the most leash?


    Turning on her heel and shoving her own mental cycle aside, Alaya headed for the dock offices only to have Kirk intercept her. It was as if he¡¯d been watching the whole time.


    ¡°Hey ¡®Laya.¡± He said it ¡°lay-uh¡± instead of ¡°lie-uh,¡± the way her parents had pronounced her name. Anyone else but Kirk, and Alaya would have grumpily corrected them. But Kirk was basically the dock mascot. His presence on the crew had been a mercy from Nissa and a good indication of how she treated her staff.


    Nothing was obviously wrong with him until his own neural implants kicked in to stop the seizures or strokes. One of the other dock drudges had told Alaya not to give Kirk anything heavy or delicate in case the implants went off. They kept him alive and kept his brain from starving itself, but for a few seconds, his hands and legs might seize up. On a wealthier station, he would have either received an proper implant or gene therapy to permanently fix the problem. Here he dealt with it.


    ¡°Hey Kirk.¡±


    ¡°Glad you didn¡¯t die ¡®Laya!¡± Kirk clapped her on the back and nudged her shoulder with his own.


    It was cure the way he clearly had a crush on her. Kirk was maybe five years older than Alaya, but she thought that was a stretch. Like her, his birthday on his records said <unknown>. Most people on the drudge crew could name their own birthdays either. Unlike them, Kirk had a friendly, kind side. The way he wore his collar made it look as though he wore nothing at all. It was one of the first things she¡¯d noticed about him and it drew her to him, made the puppy-love tolerable and almost cute. Better not to tell him there was no way Alaya would ever return his feelings. Unless Kirk found a really unlikely bit of tech around here which let him change genders.


    Was it safe to think about Gaz here? Deep in her subconscious, Alaya pondered the question. It wasn¡¯t beyond reason to fear Nissa retained mind readers and other faculties to probe surface thoughts. No. It¡¯s really not safe. In Nissa¡¯s position, if she doubted an underling¡¯s loyalty. She would pull her in, frighten the crap out of he and then reassure her she knew she was one of the good ones. Then, once her suspect had relaxed and dropped her guard, Alaya would have swept in and found what she¡¯d been looking for from the beginning. It wasn¡¯t Gaz, but no need to bring h¡­ them into this. Ugh.


    The two of them reached the dock offices and Kirk opened the door for Alaya with a little bow. Again, cute. Inside, Trindle Grun the dock manager, looked up and frowned when he saw Alaya and Kirk walk in. ¡°Nissa didn¡¯t finish you off. Lost 30k credits on that.¡±


    Alaya snorted. ¡°She told me to keep my eye on you, Grunner. Make sure you weren¡¯t taking a few shavings of the grift here and there.¡±


    He screwed his face into one of true anger, mouth puckering and lights along the edges of his face blinking in faster sequence. Before he blew a capacitor, he said, ¡°come and look at my ledger then why don¡¯t you. I¡¯ve never reported anything but the¡­¡± Kirk¡¯s laughter slowed Grun¡¯s defensive protestations and eventually brought them to a halt. ¡°You¡¯re messing with me?¡±


    ¡°You make it so easy, Grunner.¡±


    The old man¡¯s face turned red. ¡°Fine, you can go clean landing gear, after that the latrines.¡±


    ¡°Took care of the lats already Grun.¡± Kirk didn¡¯t show as much defiance as Alaya. ¡°And Pete¡¯s on the LG making ¡®em shine.¡±


    Grun sighed and looked between the two of them. ¡°Then put on the suit and go manage loads.¡± He shouted at the two of them as they ran out the door. ¡°And don¡¯t break our loader!¡±


    ¡°Did you arrange all of that?¡± Alaya waited until they¡¯d come to the heavy equipment closet before she asked. ¡°With the latrines and Pete?¡±


    Kirk looked down and to the left, away from Alaya. ¡°I don¡¯t mind cleaning the latrines and Pete likes the aloneness¡­¡±


    ¡°Solitude.¡± Alaya supplied.


    ¡°Yeah, solitude of cleaning. And if he can¡¯t send you to the lats or to the LGs¡­¡± Kirk¡¯s eyes widened and he stared back at Alaya as if afraid of letting her see him looking.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll have to come help you.¡±


    Kirk clapped. ¡°And I get to pilot the loader and you get to supervise me.¡±


    ¡°Everybody wins.¡± Alaya couldn¡¯t help but grin at him. Humble, smarter than people thought, and kind. They were good combinations.


    Kirk all but giggled as he entered the sequence to activate the loader and ready it for a pilot. Given the excitement, Alaya had been watching Kirk closely. When he seized up, she was ready. It wasn¡¯t a sure thing, but overstimulation ¡ª like having an angry void merchant yelling at you ¡ª could provoke an episode. So could excitement. She hadn¡¯t known him long, but Alaya had gotten good at getting close to people. The look Kirk flashed her as he opened his eyes in her arms suggested she might have gotten too close to him. ¡°Thanks ¡®Laya.¡±


    She didn¡¯t drop him then, but it was a near thing. She propped him up and helped Kirk stand with his arm against the wall. The implants had already corrected the problem. But the episodes seem to have gotten more frequent. ¡°No prob¡­¡±


    He scampered off toward the loader, utterly unconcerned with his episode. The loader was one of the safest places for anyone on the station ¡ª it had shielding ¡ª magical and ballistic ¡ª a reinforced cockpit, and an independent life support system. But for Kirk, it had the advantage of an onboard AI which would take over if he went unresponsive. He could run the thing to his heart¡¯s content, it would keep him safe, and keep him from hurting anyone if his implants activated. The only reason Alaya was here was that anyone operating the loader needed a spotter and someone to help load and unload the loose items.


    Alaya didn¡¯t care one whit about her jobs in the dock, other than this was the one which brought her into contact with travelers. Cleaning bathrooms and landing gear would not do that. No reason to tell Kirk that right now. Let him have his fun.


    As a pilot, Kirk was talented. If someone trained him, he could probably be a skilled borg operator as well as an equipment jockey. Strange to think such a valuable person with a useful set of skills was out here wasting his time doing nothing good on Bahl-Mau IV. ¡°You ever tinker with this stuff, Kirk?¡±


    ¡°Oh no no, Grun would get real mad if I did that. Nope. Just drive it, don¡¯t mess with the bits.¡±


    People who could pilot with the ease Kirk did could usually tinker their way around anything. Alaya¡¯s father had been like that, so had several people Alaya knew. For her, both piloting and mechanics had been hard, something to hone, not something to hop into with wild abandon and just¡­ pick up. But Kirk did it. Had done it. Whatever. According to dock rumors, he¡¯d bumble-fucked his way through the manual and ended up walking the thing across the yard by himself the first time he tried.


    Four meters tall and filled with the kinds of actuators and reinforcement that might have given Gaz some trouble if she¡¯d had to tangle with one, the loader filled a defensive and utility role. It warned newcomers the mafia here had enough cred and weapons to be a threat. Most travelers wouldn¡¯t know about its lack of speed and the fact most models had force inhibitors on them. In this one, the AI filled that role.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Kirk moved the loader with art and grace befitting a professional. People could get antsy with a three-ton shipping crate flying overhead. His gentle palaver and reassurances kept people from shuffling away from him too quick.


    Alaya set two coprocessors to watching Kirk in case anything did go wrong and thought back to her father¡¯s lessons. Maybe she wore rose-tinted glasses, but he¡¯d been so gifted and yet had done such a good job teaching and leading Alaya to find her way around similar machines. She¡¯d never gotten to play with an actual loader in her youth. But her father had made sure to give her access to the simulations. Those lessons had saved her life more than once.


    A coprocessor sent up an alert and pulled the full attention of Alaya¡¯s consciousness to the present. Events were already in motion as Alaya reacted. Kirk¡¯s voice droned over the communication unit from within the loader. He¡¯d suffered something serious for his implant to leave his speech centers open. What should have happened was the loader should have just kept moving, albeit with considerably less efficiency or grace.


    Instead the whole thing twitched, the loader arm closest to Alaya screeched with the grinding of metal against metal and shot the cover off across the room and out the air shield. Her coprocessor screamed at her it was important, but she had other, more important things.


    Alaya shouted the warning as the loader and its cargo, a high-ton light two person craft, toppled over. Into a crowd of people.


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    Perched among metal girders as she was, Gaz had been dripping, soaking wet for hours. The station goons had returned to their section empty-handed. Though no doubt some hapless residents of the section suffered at the hands of the enforcers indirectly because of Gaz. It still bothered her. And it bothered her that it bothered her. Knowing a feedback loop was coming, Gaz shunted those thoughts, along with all complaints about her sopping wetness, and focused on Alaya. Specifically on her future


    Though the young woman had forbidden it, Gaz had been working herself up to tossing a few small credit bets on Loop stocks. She had over three hundred years of detailed projection information collated by the pirates at her disposal as well as her highly illegal cerebral modifications. Gaz would make a bloodless killing on the market. And she wanted that for Alaya. Badly.


    Then again, if she lost¡­


    An alert went out on the station security channel about an accident at the docks. Though no fool, Gaz abandoned protocol and flapped from her roost at once. It wasn¡¯t beyond belief for Nissa to fake an emergency to draw out her quarry. But Alaya¡¯s safety made the perfect bait.


    No one tried to intercept Gaz when a short woman with an athletic build, curly red hair, and blue eyes stepped into the corridors from the access shaft wearing a common drudge¡¯s tunic and pants. Most of the crowd moved away from the docks. Not Gaz, she charged toward them.


    Enforcers watched every foot entrance to the docks as well as a few of the better-known slip entrances. But Gaz worked station security, she knew slips no mere drudge would know. The second one she checked had no one guarding it. The tunnel wouldn¡¯t take her directly to the docks, but with a few connections it would get her to the dock service access tunnels. Close enough. Those were intended for humans and drones, so she shouldn¡¯t have too much trouble down there.


    Aside from a nest of rats she¡¯d disturbed, Gaz arrived at the junction unmolested. But all of the exits were closely guarded, which had been her concern. Still, it was a small matter for Gaz to send a probe from this distance and use its senses to find out what was happening.


    The prob slipped through a gap in the service door. Someone needed to fix that in case of a air-lock failure. How this passed inspection escaped Gaz. Initial scans from within the dock showed the typical ships landed on their rectangular platforms. She ignored those and focused on the activity near Dock 2.


    A loader lay on its side with a small voidcraft lying next to it. Both machines were essentially trashed. Good mechanics could salvage them, but only with replacement parts. Alaya sat near the top of the fallen loader. The sight of her made Gaz¡¯s endochrine level spike. But the scanner showed Alaya¡¯s condition as green.


    No one was in either the loader or ship cockpits, but based on the cutting patterns around the loader, someone had been.


    Grun, the large bitter dock manager shouted at Alaya, ¡°he¡¯s still out, but you can see him now.¡±


    ¡°He¡± most likely referred to Kirk or one of the other dock drudges. Alaya made friends quickly and one of them ¡ª Kirk ¡ª had grown close with her. Gaz didn¡¯t see him.


    Guiltily, Gaz wanted the young man to have been killed or at least permanently injured to ensure she would have no competition for Alaya¡¯s attention. Juvenile and offensive to her own sensibilities, Gaz chided herself for her thoughts.


    Low power, non-magical probes had limited ranges. Gaz¡¯s couldn¡¯t follow Alaya to the manager¡¯s office, so Gaz repositioned herself through the tunnels. To her surprise, she almost stumbled into another person lurking in the service tunnels.


    They wore a thick tunic with a hood pulled up over their heads. Gaz still caught a look at their pale white skin and angular facial tattoos and scars. It wasn¡¯t a pattern she recognized and the clothing was notable for how warm most stations grew. Rockbound thought space was cold, and sure if you tumbled out without a suit or found yourself powered down and drifting, you¡¯d probably freeze to death.


    But ship and station were limited in size not by their energy demands or by the subtle fingers of gravity, but by good old entropy. Space didn¡¯t want the heat ships and stations generated. Radiating was hard in the black, so most had to get creative. In old days, when space travel had just started, power was an issue so freezing was a serious risk. But these days heat budget was a limiter, not power. Most stations ran hot, just like Bahl-Mau IV.


    This guy was bundled against an arctic winter under his tunic and hood. Whatever he was wearing blocked out Gaz¡¯s scans. That realization didn¡¯t save her life as much as her pride. He¡¯d passed her and she¡¯d turned toward him when she discovered her instruments couldn¡¯t penetrate his clothing.


    The hooded man held what could only be a type of wand on her. It resembled a hand-sized turn crank. Almost tear-drop shaped with a cylinder at the tip, pointed toward Gaz. Several little disks with arcane runes on their fronts oriented themselves toward Gaz from the fore of the wand. He jumped when she turned on him, he¡¯d probably been about to cast on her without warning. ¡°It¡¯s not your lucky day, pal.¡± He spoke with an Arcadi accent, one of the Loop gangs who claimed nearby territory. ¡°But can¡¯t let anyone see me here.¡±


    He should have just pulled the trigger. Gaz skipped to the right, into a tunnel fork and out of the blue line of his spell. It disintegrated a 3mx3m section of wall. That was definitely not the kind of weapon the station would permit normally.


    The wizard cursed at Gaz as he grabbed his wand-caster. No time to let him do whatever he intended, she spun out of her side tunnel using radar to track him and aimed for his head. She¡¯d leave him alive, but would definitely give him a headache as a message to reconsider his life choices.


    But then a soft yellow ray shot up into Gaz¡¯s face. She¡¯d couldn¡¯t have taken the magical effect more directly if she¡¯d been posed and waiting for it.


    Sensors and probes stopped responding as the cyberware and flesh in Gaz¡¯s body decided it needed a time out. Such magic wasn¡¯t entirely effective against a cyborg like Gaz, but it definitely limited her options. A single drone floated out of her shoulder and the hooded mage squeaked at her. He bashed it out of the air and sprinted away.


    If he¡¯d stayed and used another disintegration spell on Gaz, he would have eliminated her. Even if it had taken more than one. Her little drone didn¡¯t follow the wizard. It¡¯s job had been to stop him from using his wand again first and foremost. A new second, it was supposed to free Gaz from this effect. She needed a reboot to end it quickly, before someone came to investigate the alarms disintegrating a 27-cubic foot block of space station set in motion.


    Gaz knew exactly where her own cyberbrain was. So she could direct her drone with utter precision. The needle it extruded hit the exact spot necessary to spike her power.


    11.23 seconds. A full system reboot was the longest way to bring her whole brain down and back up. It was also an excellent way to dump a persistent magical effect from her cyberware. No longer digitally paralyzed, Gaz¡¯s multi-processor functions took up the slack from her still affected brain matter. With time, the effect would pass. But for now, Gaz treated her body a little like a standard human operator would: go here legs, turn there head, run from the incoming security teams, that sort of thing.


    Gaz rode her own body back out of the service tunnels and into the main concourse again. Once more she transformed. This time into an older matron, with a soiled and ripped tunic and grey hair. Age would have looked out of place on a wealthier station, but here on Bahl-Mau rejuvenation treatments were reserved for the made gangsters and wealthy. Not for poor old moms like the one Gaz pretended to be.


    Security teams tore into the concourse, people she worked with normally. Today was a rough day to call in, but it was also the first time. No one could really complain at her. Unless they found out she was the person ¡ª or one of the people ¡ª making unauthorized visits to the service tunnels during an emergency. That would be a conversation Gaz would have had to fight her way through. Unpleasant.


    She went about her business as the legend she¡¯d assumed, staying off the radar and even submitting to a security scan. The sec people didn¡¯t even ask her a question as they ran their reader down her. It continued to amaze her how advanced her body proved to be. Alaya¡¯s implant possessed the same relative level of technical ability. Common security scanners, even above average or quality ones wouldn¡¯t register her as anything but organic with minor augments. Same with Alaya, who actually had minor augments.


    Now if they¡¯d taken her in and subjected her to a proper scan¡­ another situation where she¡¯d have to fight her way out.


    And then they were gone. The tunnels were clear of security personnel and the normal residents of the station filled in the concourse with their activities, now filled with speculation about the accident and the security situation. A good many of the commenters decided the whole affair was just a drill, an excuse to shake down one of the petty gangs which controlled the borders of the larger gangs¡¯ territory. As theories went, it was a good one considering the information the people had.


    Before long they¡¯d learn the docks really had an accident. That was when the information sphere grew interesting. Here was a place where Gaz was naturally drawn. At rumor stage two, when an official story came out, information increased in the system. But the narrative didn¡¯t always change. No matter how well documented the accident, some people would doubt it happened.


    Gaz knew herself how easy it was to fake information, especially digital information. And eye witness reports could be faked with magic, neural conditioning, or a dozen other more exotic options. The mere fact those things existed poked holes in the narrative¡¯s reliability.


    Some would accept what they were told. Perhaps they had a personal connection to the event like Gaz. Or maybe they just didn¡¯t care for idle speculation. Whatever it was, at rumor stage two narratives would fork.


    ¡°Gaz? You there?¡± Alaya interrupted Gaz¡¯s little personal thesis construction.


    ¡°I am and I am profoundly glad to hear from you.¡±


    Alaya chuckled over the line. It was breathy, but sincere. Gaz recorded it and added the sound to her library. ¡°Good to hear from you too. Wanna meet up later?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Definitely.¡± They had matters to discuss better handled in personal, or even over a hardline. No way to tap that without really sophisticated tricks. The kind which were inescapable. Best thing to do in that case was accept one¡¯s fate.


    ¡°Usual place then.¡±


    Alaya broke the connection and Gaz¡¯s sensors hummed. The final vestiges of paralysis faded from her and she settled fully back into her body. Alaya was safe. Nothing mattered more. The fact Gaz had to spend so much time apart from Alaya was the greatest source of stress in the cyborg¡¯s life. That and a certain secret she kept in a segregated cluster in her personal memory banks. Put a lid on that. It was harder to purge such memories from flesh than from chrome.


    Normally the two didn¡¯t worry about being seen together. Gaz usually met Alaya for work. But that just meant they were friends, acquaintances. Hardline connecting and discussing the kinds of things they were actually doing aboard the station was best left to dark and secluded places.


    That was the justification Alaya gave out loud. But Gaz had known her long enough to know Alaya sought out dark and secluded places because they were where she felt most comfortable, safest.


    Every station had spots like that. Humans needed more room than the numbers suggested, more than the 360 square meters usually allotted. Storage, maintenance, recreation, over and over new uses for berth aboard ship cropped up. And the more energy available, the easier it was to give over space. And the more heat the station needed to vent.


    The section Alaya picked out was a mess of girders and reinforcement. Most of it, the vast majority, was redundant. Intended to be used to replace other structural elements in an emergency, this portion of the station had been littered with metal parts. As if she¡¯d grown up among this very maze of steel and aluminum, Alaya led Gaz through the gaps and breaks in the old metal towers to a little spot completely out of view.


    A long time ago someone had draped vat grown, musty cloth through this place and created a little den. They were long gone, based on the age of the cloth and the state of disuse of the den. But Gaz imagined it would have felt cozy once upon a time.

 Chapter 8 - Alaya

    ¡°They didn¡¯t fire me.¡± Though I wish they¡¯d at least shot me. Anything to explain this pain.


    ¡°And they did not harm you.¡± Gaz¡¯s frame went subtly rigid as she spoke. Until Alaya herself had pulled the move and gotten caught out by Nissa, she wouldn¡¯t have noted it. Now that she thought about it, Gaz was always going stiff like that. Alaya would take whatever mental distraction she could, as soon as that track ran out she stared at the limp cloth hanging from a girder.


    Scratch marks along the edge showed where it had likely been moved. The cubby they sheltered in wasn¡¯t the only little abandoned home in this place. To Alaya, the signs had been clear. Different groups used different symbols, but pretty much everyone took to scrawling information in the sides of stations. Graffiti was one of the oldest forms of human art. She had no need to decode those glyphs, their presence showed her what she¡¯d been looking for.


    Near the upper sections of this room the outer walls had small metal objects shoved into them. Was that how station security figured out this community was here? No. They would have known from the beginning. Rust had covered up those scratches on the edges parts of these girders had cracked. The station saved energy and mass by letting them rust. They probably collected the dust and recycled it rather than go at the girders directly. It would be a paltry amount, but Alaya understood the power of small things accumulating over time better than most.


    Nothing spoke to her of the end of this community. Had they moved out? Had disease killed them off? Or were they massacred? There was no evidence of an attack, but on the timescale Alaya suspected those signs would have faded or have been covered up. Little remained of these people save for the skeletal frames of their homes and a few bits of sinew in the forms of cloth.


    Once Alaya had seen Gaz¡¯s cyborg-capable full body freeze, she couldn¡¯t unsee it. How had I lived with her for eight years and failed to notice that? ¡°There is something troubling you. Is it the boy, Kirk?¡±


    Emotions rolled over her as the last of her mental barriers finally crumpled. It was his name. Alaya had to physically stop her tear response and still covered her face with her hands. ¡°I think I ruined his life today. Bad.¡±


    ¡°I do not know what happened. Was there an accident with the loader?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Alaya stared into the darkness of her hands. She hated to tell Gaz to leave her alone. But in the moment, she found herself craving true solitude. Ignoring the need, she forced the words out of her mouth. ¡°He was piloting, something he¡¯s actually pretty good at. There was a mechanical failure. Never seen anything like it. And the AI must have glitched too because the loader and the two-seater crashed. Killed three people instantly and injured several more. Did some damage to the docks, the works.¡±


    Alaya snorted at herself. It wasn¡¯t funny, but for some reason, Kirk¡¯s fate bothered her more than the deaths his accident caused. Nissa and the higher-ups wouldn¡¯t see it that way.


    ¡°Have you reviewed the incident yet?¡±


    This time she groaned. ¡°No. I need to have a coproc do it. But I haven¡¯t had time.¡± Ugh, she stiffened again. If Alaya was guessing, Gaz had just stifled some kind of suggestion. Most likely about reviewing her memories. ¡°Wanna help me do it?¡± It was a dirty trick to slough her work off on Gaz, who agreed automatically.. But analytical memory review took time.


    They were already hardline connected, so Alaya sent a sensory package over to Gaz of the event and five minutes either side.


    When she finished sending the information over, Alaya found herself oddly light. Kirk¡¯s fate remained undetermined. Her own fate too. But sharing what happened with Gaz had somehow helped her. Alaya would need to figure that too too. Later.


    ¡°There is a matter I encountered which may be related to your peer.¡± Gas twitched when a communication broke out over wireless to Alaya.


    Like most normal people Alaya was not open to unsolicited communications. She kept her Loop Charter on full lock down. No reason to broadcast her location the rest of the Loop Council. But station protocol allowed supervisors to force a communique.


    ¡°Alaya, please report to my office immediately for¡­ tea.¡± This was Nissa¡¯s voice. Not Grun or one of his bosses. But the underboss herself.


    Alaya locked eyes with Gaz. ¡°Don¡¯t follow me into her section this time if you¡¯re gonna get caught.¡±


    Gaz smiled. It was self-deprecating and modest. As far as Alaya was concerned, that smile was a cheese platter topped with chili peppers. Delicious and dangerous. ¡°McRory.¡± The name broke Alaya¡¯s mental image and replaced it with the security chief.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Yes, unfortunately I alerted an AI sensor inspector and did not realize it. But I escaped him. I believe I could defeat him if had a chance to scan him thoroughly, surprise, and only modestly betterweapon options.¡±


    Those words chilled Alaya. She knew there were more dangerous people in the Loops around sol than Gaz. They terrified her. Most likely she was about to shuffle off and meet those people. ¡°You heard the lady, I need to rocket.¡±


    ¡°I worry about you when you meet with her.¡± The expression Gaz now wore struck a nerve. Alaya struggled to just walk away from that. They¡¯d watched each other¡¯s backs and protected each other for so long. But Alaya needed to do this. Nissa was the gate between Alaya and Kowal, who was the gate to the other pirates. ¡°I¡­¡±


    Gaz would have console herself. ¡°No, Gaz you stay here or go back to work. If you come in with me and they hard scan me¡­ you know how bad that will be.¡± They both knew, from personal experience. The results would have been bloody.


    ¡°Okay.¡± She stiffened again. ¡°I will return to my security duties.¡±


    Alaya hurried away, not wanting to provoke Nissa¡¯s ire. Where Gaz was concerned, Alaya didn¡¯t know what to do or say. She knew how important it was to Alaya to capture Kowal. Wait, did we even talk about that? Oh crap, no. Well we can¡¯t talk about it over air.


    She initiated careful mental blocks to keep her association with Gaz out of her mind as she reached Nissa¡¯s section of the station. Olin stood there waiting for her wearing station-level tactical armor. The kind of armor with motion and balance assist. It was the sort of thing security personnel wore to provide the same protection as the walls of the station. Motors on the gauntlets flexed and hissed when Olin spotted her. Beneath the glass dome mask, he grinned. ¡°I got my chopping blade nice and sharp for you mousey. Go on in. Nissa will call me when she wants me.¡± He winked at Alaya but didn¡¯t move otherwise.


    Now that she was here, Alaya took her time. No sense in giving Olin the satisfaction. Walking right into Nissa¡¯s office was the kind of thing eight-year old Alaya might have done. Present-day Alaya knocked.


    ¡°Come in Alaya. Please.¡± Nissa¡¯a voice sounded soft and welcoming. Assuring it was not.


    Three people sat in the room aside from Nissa. One of them took up as much space as three normal-sized people. He loomed over Alaya and grunted at her. ¡°It¡¯s not her. Hasn¡¯t even been close to it.¡±


    The bow of her lips stretched down as Nissa¡¯s eyebrows rose and her head bobbed. ¡°Pleasing, but not entirely surprising,.¡± She clicked her eyes once at Alaya. ¡°Please sit down.¡±


    McRory, the one who¡¯d spoken and who took up as much space as three people resembled nothing more than a giant at the moment. His frame was blocky in the way the ring fighters were depicted in the leagues which required humanoid forms. Grey haired, muscular to the extreme, he was simply human expanded in every dimension. His grey suit and dark glasses did nothing to hide the fact he was the second most dangerous person in the room after Nissa, his boss.


    The other two people set Alaya¡¯s teeth on edge. She¡¯d not paid them much attention, devoting a coproc to assessment. Reading the abstract made her focus on them.


    Furthest from Alaya, in the corner draped in shadow sat a small woman who¡¯s skin reactively broadcast optical camouflage. Sensors outlined her, though Alaya could almost guarantee the woman could go sensor-dark if she cared to. Why have the optical camouflage added if not EM, thermo, and arcane?


    Next to her sat a perfectly average-looking man. Brown hair, fair complected and 5¡¯11¡±. He was too average, each part of his appearance carefully crafted to match a literal statistical mean. Darkness, deeper than the emptiest place Alaya had ever crawled, lurked behind that man¡¯s light brown eyes. Pain, both the giving and the receiving, had been a long part of Alaya¡¯s life. Whoever this guy was, he made Alaya¡¯s own little pit look like an ink stain on a station pass.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Fuck McRory, this guy scared the absolute shit out of Alaya. McRory would kill Alaya in precisely the manner Nissa order and then only if she did. Whoever this brown-eyed every man was, he would kill Alaya because he liked to make the red waters flow.


    No one had spoken while Alaya inspected the room. From the shadows, a whispered voice said, ¡°she doesn¡¯t look like much to me.¡±


    ¡°I like her.¡± Mr Brown-dead eyes spoke in an even, emotionless voice. It was one bit of static away from an AI¡¯s voice. ¡°She¡¯ll do just fine.¡±


    Nissa¡¯s eyebrow actually rose. Probably just lost a bet. Alaya snickered in her head until Nissa spoke: ¡°Five thousand credits to be exact.¡± Alaya¡¯s gag reflex kicked in. No one else commented or reacted to her. She pointed to the people on the couch. ¡°The lady in shadow over there is Vora. On the chair next to her is Isham.¡± Nissa raised her toros and turned to face Vora. ¡°State your objection plainly.¡±


    ¡°This little newborn chick is gonna get us all rolled or caught by security. I signed up to steal things, not teach preschool.¡± Isham snorted at her. ¡°You got a problem with what I said?¡±


    ¡°You are blind.¡± He motioned to Alaya. ¡°She is blooded. Before she entered this room had an exit strategy, knows how she would try to kill all four of us and has planned the assassinations of both McRory and our esteemed employer.¡±


    Cyber-locking, maybe there was a better name for it, might have given her away but Alaya did it anyway. Isham had to be guessing, but he¡¯d guessed remarkably correctly. She cleared her throat and said, ¡°I have no idea how I would kill Nissa.¡±


    Nissa tilted her head and clasped her lower hands together. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why what?¡± It was insanely dangerous to play games with people like Nissa. Even Go.


    ¡°Why have you not planned a way to assassinate me?¡±


    Fuck it. Let¡¯s tell her the truth. ¡°Because I think you¡¯re broadcasting here from off station and that means there¡¯s basically no way to reach you. ¡°Plus, that probably means you¡¯re treating this as an extra source of income or as game. In either case, if I piss you off enough, you¡¯ll just nuke the place and move on.¡±


    Both pairs of hands clapped. ¡°Amusingly said! And generally correct, though I will say I place value in Bahl-Mau over and above its position as an income stream.¡±


    Because her optical camo made it hard to be sure, Alaya could only guess that Vora was staring at her. ¡°How¡¯d did you know that in the first place?¡±


    ¡°It is obvious.¡± Isham answered for Alaya.


    Or I¡¯ve met people like that before and they are usually narcissistic psychopaths. It¡¯s kinda reassuring Nissa isn¡¯t one. But then again, that is generally what a narcissistic psychopath would say. Yes, it was possible Nissa would detect those thoughts. But Alaya wanted her to hear them.


    ¡°Enough.¡± Nissa didn¡¯t bother clapping her hands. It wasn¡¯t necessary any way. Everyone looked at her. ¡°I want the three of you to steal every item of value you can from this ship and from her captain. Everything.¡± The way she emphasized the word made Alaya tilt her head. This sounded personal, which was weird. Considering how today had gone, weird should have been expected. A packet containing the necessary information fell into Alaya¡¯s proverbial lap. The others didn¡¯t react so either they had more control than her or they¡¯d already been briefed on this job.


    The file opened and displayed a holographic image of the exact same tourist Alaya had flagged earlier. ¡°I, uh¡­¡±


    Nissa pursed her lips. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just a dock drudge. I¡¯m glad, Mr Isham thinks¡­¡±


    ¡°Please, call me Isham. No mister.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m glad Isham thinks I¡¯m cherry fresh. But Vora is right. I have no idea what¡¯s going on. I¡¯m no thief or burglar or whatever.¡±


    Vora¡¯s outline shifted and her hands pointed to Alaya as if she¡¯d made Vora¡¯s point for her. ¡°Why is she in on this?¡±


    ¡°Because Alaya brought me the information on our guest and because I think you will appreciate Alaya¡¯s skills more than Isham.¡± Nissa¡¯s head ratcheted toward Alaya and met her gaze full on. ¡°And because Alaya will be paid handsomely for completing this task.¡±


    This was gangster-speak for a non-optional assignment. ¡°Well that sounds great. Why didn¡¯t you lead with that?¡± There might have been better ways to kiss the ring and beg apologies, but Nissa appeared to accept it with a nod.


    ¡°Excellent. I expect this matter will be resolved within forty-eight hours?¡±


    Isham stood with a shake of his head. ¡°We will not need so long.¡±


    Vora and Alaya stood shortly after the man. Headed for the door in the hopes of avoiding this very fate, Nissa interrupted Alaya. ¡°Wait a moment, please little mouse?¡±


    Fuck. ¡°Sure Nissa. No problem.¡±


    McRory stood and walked out as Alaya sat back down. The big man turned his backside toward Alaya as if to say: ¡°whatever plan you have for me doesn¡¯t scare me in the least.¡±


    Under entirely different circumstances, Alaya might have assured McRory she didn¡¯t have that much faith in her own plan either. But how did she tell someone that in the first place, much less in front of someone else?


    The moment the door closed, Nissa unfolded her body onto the couch with a look of relief. ¡°Care to join me here, Alaya?¡±


    There was nothing casual about the offer. Heart suddenly racing Alaya licked her chapped lips and said, ¡°I¡¯d rather not if that¡¯s okay?¡±


    ¡°Of course it is.¡± Nissa slid up the side of her couch and perched herself onherright wrist. The one on her upper set of arms. The lower fiddled meaninglessly with the tea set on the table. ¡°The incident today at the docks. Who¡¯s responsibility was that?¡±


    Right. ¡°It was mine.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°With Kirk¡¯s implants, and the general danger of the loader, someone is supposed to help clear people away and generally ensure nothing goes wrong with the loader. That person was me.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t blame the young man.¡±


    Alaya bristled. ¡°Of course not. Whatever this was, it looks like mechanical and AI failure to me. Not that I¡¯ve seen the direct evidence.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Nissa¡¯s lower arms drummed on the table. ¡°I will take what you¡¯ve said under advisement. Now go and lead your team to success. Earn this delicious bonus I¡¯m offering you.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of¡­¡±


    ¡°Thirty percent.¡± Nissa¡¯s lower left hand snapped. ¡°Of your outstanding dock debt here, gone. Instantly.¡±


    Okay. Fuck yeah. ¡°Oh. Neat.¡±


    Thirty percent. She and Gaz would have spare change after they paid off what they owed. And just as Kowal showed up. Alaya wanted to get this job cleared up as soon as possible. That way she could refocus on Kowal and clear that tick mark off her bucket list.


    Isham and Vora stood outside Nissa¡¯s section, waiting for Alaya where Olin could see them. ¡°Let¡¯s go talk about this where we won¡¯t be heard.¡±


    Vora folded her arms. ¡°No. You¡¯re not the boss here and I¡¯m still not okay with you even coming on this op.¡±


    ¡°Vora. Our boss has made her orders unequivocal.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I won¡¯t follow¡­¡±


    ¡°What the fuck do I have to do to prove myself to you?¡± Before she¡¯d finished speaking, Alaya had marked Vora¡¯s scent. Blocking sound, sight, and even electronic sensors was hard. Chemical sensors was next to impossible.


    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to trust you with leadership and tech.If you¡¯re so good, come and find me.¡± The moment she finished talking all sign of Vora vanished. Just as Alaya had suspected.


    ¡°This is so stupid.¡± Alaya said the words out lout, but didn¡¯t expect an answer.


    Isham said, ¡°perhaps it is stupid. But if Vora insists, you will have to satisfy her or complain to our boss.¡±


    Fuck option number 2. Alaya kicked on her olfactory systems. This was how Gaz had tracked her down back in the day, this was one of the first augmentations Alaya had installed. Just as she suspected, Vora did not have a way to deal with the chemical trail she left, not completely.


    Some kind of suction and filtration was doing its best to scrub her presence from the air, but Alaya had picked up her exterior scent so there was nothing Vora could do to avoid her. If Alaya had been trying to pick her trail up cold, she would have failed utterly. But this was the minuscule traces Vora left behind blazed a path right to the woman. Right to Olin.


    Alaya stopped in front of him and said, ¡°I¡¯m done playing hide and seek. Either come out or go away and we¡¯ll find someone else to take your payout.¡±


    Olin didn¡¯t react, but Vora appeared next to him, close enough to brush her hand across his chest. Upon her appearance, he did the same cyborg-stillness thing. There was a term for when one learned about a word they started hearing it all the time. The stillness was like that. ¡°Fine you win.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Can we go talk now?¡±


    There was a time in human history when bars and other pubs had formed the center of social communion. Now no such physical space really stood in for the same. But virtual places had risen up to fill the role. Many of them were stylized as if to memorialize the distant past, preserved now through the retelling of tall tales and the re-release of some ancient film or story.


    DallNet access, long the white whale of Alaya¡¯s young life came free and easy to her. It was one of the only benefits to the Loop Charter Alaya regularly made use of. She wore an old duster, cowgirl hat, blue jeans, and a black plaid western shirt. She wore the all black garb of the traditional Western hero right down to her black iron spurs. Not that she had any idea what the hat, boots, or spurs were for.


    Vora logged in as a woman in bright red hoop skirt, blond hair piled atop her head, and bosoms all but exposed by her neckline. Isham looked exactly like himself. No surprise there.


    DallNet was officially neutral andzealously protected its users¡¯ privacy. In practice there were always organizations with enough financial or governmental pull to subpoena records from the company. Add to that the fact the owner of a DallNet space could chose to listen in on every part of the room or record everything said or done within and a lot of people didn¡¯t trust DallNet or any of the public ¡®nets when it came to privacy.


    But Nissa owned this space and they were only going to discuss the job.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan, boss?¡±Vora checked her hair and face out in a hand mirror, pulling at her curls as she did.


    ¡°I am going with simple.¡± She pointed to Isham. ¡°You¡¯re muscle and what?¡±


    Isham stuck his chest out and said, ¡°I am muscle and medical.¡±


    ¡°Vora, you¡¯re entry and what?¡±


    ¡°I can manage some technical, but I hate it. Same with fighting.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll handle tech and big picture. I can use a weapon and I think we should definitely go with simple here. We break into Mr Adventurer¡¯s suit. Take his stuff. Kill him if he resists.¡± Sorry mom, sorry dad.


    Vora said, ¡°kill him only if he resists?¡±


    Isham shrugged, but Alaya said, ¡°Nissa said to take everything of value. If she asks, we can tell her that. I¡¯d prefer not to kill anyone. But if he resists, he¡¯s trying to hurt or kill us. I¡¯m not okay with that.¡±


    Both of them shrugged and Alaya suspected Mr adventurer¡¯s days were numbered. She¡¯d sloughed his name off on a coproc, not wanting the identity of the man she might have to murder on her conscience.

 Chapter 9 - Gaz

    No good. Nissa¡¯s whole operation was up to no good. Gaz despised Alaya¡¯s need to work under Nissa as much as she despised her role in driving Alaya here. Security was boring, repetitive and dangerous. But it paid the bills and all three of those downsides were mitigated by Gaz¡¯s¡­ everything.


    Right then she guarded a gambling den and brothel ¡ª places on Bahl-Mau diversified ¡ª and spent the whole time agonizing over Alaya and her fate. Communication risked both of their positions, so Gaz got to sit and spend her time worrying about and planning for possibilities which might never exist. Which would probably never exist.


    ¡°You on the menu, sugar?¡± A woman leaned into Gaz, ran her hand over her chest and down her midsection.


    ¡°Sorry ma¡¯am. I am strictly security.¡± Gaz spoke with as much vigor as she could muster. Enough credits or trade and anyone on the station was for sale. The brothel just formalized the transactions.


    Attire which would have looked right at home on one of the performers in this place clung to the woman, covered her breasts, back and groin enough she might not be ticketed for public indecency. Three huge, fuck off guys stood behind the woman fawning over Gaz and held their arms loose, by their sides. It was the correct tactical move: assume a ready position without provoking the potential or their principle. ¡°Aww, just a few hours. I could make it worth your time.¡±


    Nothing the woman offered could possibly make it worth Gaz¡¯s time. Well, technically one thing would, but Gaz very much doubted this woman could somehow acquire Alaya¡¯s willing participation. Gaz sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve already sold my time. I am very sorry.¡± There was nowhere for Gaz to retreat, the guards had to know that. So did the woman. ¡°Oh, right. To Mau Security, right?¡±


    Gaz mouth opened and shut. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s easy!¡± The woman finally stepped back from Gaz. Scanners showed her packed with nothing more exotic than the standard wealth package: longevity devices, projection matrices, and a few dozen other little quality of life cybernetics. Honestly, she was a little under-augmented for those wealthy citizens Gaz had dealt with in the past. The woman looked away from Gaz, but spoke aloud. ¡°Darling, I have one of your cute little employees right here in front of me. I want to play with her.¡± The woman glanced at Gaz. ¡°What¡¯s your employee ID, sweetie?¡±


    This was a situation Gaz was perfectly incapable of handling on her own. She offered the woman her ID. How was Gaz supposed to talk her way out of a liaison with this woman? She was herself the person who was supposed to save others from this situation.


    ¡°Great. No, I don¡¯t care about the contract terms. Yes. 200k.¡± Gaz froze at the figure. It sounded like the woman had just mentioned 200k credits. For a few hours of Gaz¡¯s time. ¡°Your boss wants to talk to you.¡±


    At the same time, a secure communication bearing the digital signature of the CEO of Mau Security appeared on the header of the packets. Gaz opened the line. ¡°Your name¡¯s just Gaz? Do whatever Ms Feng asks of you. You get 50k credits. This is not a contractual arrangement, understand?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Great. This discussion is over.¡± He hung up on Gaz before the video had finished loading. Ms Feng leaned her head side to side.


    ¡°What did he say?¡±


    ¡°He told me to go with you and do whatever you said.¡±


    Ms Feng looked back at her guards. ¡°You heard the lady. Clear the way for us please.¡± Then she took Gaz¡¯s arm and pulled her into the brothel.¡±


    Gaz had spent more than a little time here. Neither gambling nor sex appealed to her as pastimes. She experienced the urge like anyone else, and suppressed it chemically so she could save herself for Alaya. That wasn¡¯t changing today.


    They passed small, packed in little booths with people staring at dedicated terminals. Slots, poker, any game under the sun served on those terminals. A little money went a long way toward getting watered down drinks, magically preserved food, and even some entertainment if the spender wanted a private booth.


    Color-wise the place was red and gold, ostentatious without quite reaching camp levels. Some of the gold was real; a status symbol and barter tool despite the metal¡¯s abundance out in the rings. But most of it was just glittery faux metal paint. The carpet was the nicest thing about the place, impossible to stain, a claim backed up by nanotech materials, the carpet required no cleaning either. Best of all it was soft and pleasant to look at with a comforting recurring pattern which had the effect of sending Gaz¡¯s attention sliding down the length.


    As operations went, Gaz had to tip her hat to the place. High rollers and the lucky often blew their winnings at the brothel. And more than a few people left the brothel aimed directly for the gaming booths.


    Back into the private rooms, that was where Ms Feng led Gaz. The woman¡¯s body had a lovely silhouette and profile. Either she kept in shape or she had an excellent surgeon on staff. Maybe both. Neither old nor young, she had the ageless quality of the exceedingly wealthy. Only the ones who chose to looked elderly. And only the audaciously vain sought youth. Janice shared her opinions on her peers with Gaz and Alaya.


    A guard, tied to the establishment, challenged them. Ms Feng led the way and produced a red metallic card Gaz has never seen before. The guard had. Or understood its significance right away. He stepped out of the way and bowed to the two of them, hand swept out to welcome them deeper into the rooms.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Gaz had been here before too. An unpleasant necessity of her job in station security: she had to investigate crime. Both the brothel and the casino attracted their own kinds of criminal element. In the case of the man who¡¯d beaten his girl up after she¡¯d performed for him, Gaz and several other officers ¡ª split between men and women ¡ª took a little bit of extra care in making sure he broke bones on his way to station lockup and eventual spacing. Beat your spouse, your kids, or pets, the station wouldn¡¯t touch you. But lay a damaging fingernail on the merchandise and they would and did happily toss you into the void.


    She hadn¡¯t made the system, but certainly helped perpetuate it. Maybe she was exactly where she deserved, standing before a penthouse suite in the Bahl-Mau brothels. This section right here was a portion of the station Gaz had never ventured into. People who sprang for the penthouse suites knew to clean up their messes without getting security involved.


    ¡°After you, sugar.¡± Ms Fengmotioned to Gaz, who nodded dutifully and opened the door. The woman patted Gaz¡¯s ass as she stepped into a pit of opulence.


    Crystals hung from the ceiling, which itself rose into little peaks. At their heights, soft sun-like lamps sent their rays glittering through bits of cut glass and out into rainbows. White and gold dominated the furnishings. White leather upholstery, white wool, and even silk all made their appearances across the divan, a chair made for two, and a bed large enough for two McRory¡¯s or at least six average sized people. Every door was open at the moment, so Gaz could see the bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchenette from where she stood. Good way to sell the suite, she supposed.


    ¡°Rather gaudy, but I suppose it will do.¡± Ms Feng shut the door. ¡°We¡¯re out here in the border of real civilization. It¡¯s not like Europa or Venus now is it?¡±


    She spoke as if she expected Gaz to know. Alaya and Gaz had never reached Europa or Venus. They¡¯d spent their lives out among the far ends of the Loops, where civilization was as dispersed as possible and they were unlikely to run into anyone else. The Mal-wares had the same anti-civlization attitude, exactly because they were pirates. ¡°I guess not.¡±


    Ms Feng shot Gaz a lopsided smile and raised her hand. Gaz braced herself as something puffed out of the woman¡¯s hand where there should have been zero augmentations. A silver sphere floated out of her arm flashed once and expanded out to fill the room. It passed through Gaz and the Ms Feng and stuck to the walls, coating them in a thin silver foil. Tension still high, the silver faded into the surfaces as if it had been absorbed. ¡°If you weren¡¯t going to do it, obviously I had to.¡±


    Rather than respond with ¡°had to what?¡± Gaz shut her mouth. The way her arm opened looked eerily familiar to Gaz. As did the way it sealed back up. It wasn¡¯t as smooth as Gaz¡¯s, but the motion was clearly born of the same algorithms. Not exactly a digital signature, but almost as good. In Gaz¡¯s case, almost certainly as good. ¡°Etiolon?¡±


    ¡°Ha! So I was right.¡± Ms Feng¡¯s body rippled and the woman¡¯s skin and clothing turned to silver. Her carapace was similar to Gaz¡¯s, but the precise cut of the lines was clearly different. ¡°I would never rat you out, of course. Because I¡¯m running their gamma chassis.¡±


    A faint whisper of hope, already dying from lack of air winked out then. Gaz desperately wanted, needed information on her chassis. But MilCas had done its job wiping out the company, their subsidiaries, and virtually anyone they caught wearing an Etiolon body. Alaya¡¯s little financial problem was only one of many reasons the two woman preferred life in the void.


    ¡°Well, I showed you mine, show me yours!¡± Ms Feng flicked Gaz¡¯s in a way which might have hurt her if not for her cybernetics.


    There was no way Gaz would do this. For all she knew this woman was recording this whole encounter as a way to dig up blackmail material on a station guard. ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    The pout looked out of place on such an incredibly dangerous chassis. ¡°Is this because of your stupid little legend?¡±


    ¡°Legend? What?¡±


    Ms Feng stepped back, swept her hands up, and spun. ¡°I mean all of this. A frontier station guard? That¡¯s a practically a holovid staple. You¡¯re playing space cowgirl, right? You can drop the act in here, I don¡¯t want to get frisky with a space cowgirl, I want to get frisky with an elite Etiolon model cyborg. Space cowgirls are a credit for a score.¡±


    For some reason those words set off a whole table of angry responses in Gaz¡¯s brain. ¡°How much did you pay for me?¡±


    As if it were nothing, Ms Feng snorted. ¡°Two hundred thousand shares in a little company I knew Bari would jump at.¡±


    ¡°How many credits?¡±


    Ms Feng blinked and wrinkled her nose, as if Gaz had said or done something odious. ¡°At sale close it was about 200 a share.¡±


    Cyborgs, as a rule, had better mental control than baseline humans. Viruses ¡ª exceedingly rare ¡ª outside influence ¡ª a little more common ¡ª and system corruption ¡ª the most common cause ¡ª could make them shed their control. But in Gaz¡¯s case it was simple shock. Billions of kilometers of digital lines, more switches than cells in a human body, all of it failed to multiply two simple numbers and get the result under the load of her shock.


    When it finally landed, it only compounded her shock. Forty million credits wouldn¡¯t have been enough to even make Alaya¡¯s debt blip. But it would have been enough for Gaz to easily protect her. They could purchase a lifetime of freedom and security for what this woman had paid for a couple hours of Gaz¡¯s time.


    ¡°You okay sugar?¡±


    What Gaz did next was a Bad Idea?. She knew before she set the command sequence into motion. It had been one of those wild plans, out there and adapted on the fly. Part outrage, part anger, and part anxiety fueled her choices.


    Her left arm formed into a spike, hard and sharp enough to drive through the other woman¡¯s carapace. Not to hurt her, not exactly. But to infect her with the least common form of intrusion. Ms Feng didn¡¯t even get a chance to gasp as Gaz drove the spike up under her rib, where a floating mobile controller tended to sit on her own body.


    She struck true and released a nanite package she¡¯d successfully used to hack target systems before. It was messy and left obvious signs of intrusion all over. But it was also very effective. Ms Feng¡¯s systems did not even put up a real fight. Less than fifty microseconds later, Gaz owned Ms Feng¡¯s chassis.


    With the facilities at hand, Gaz couldn¡¯t read the woman¡¯s mind. Nor could she mess with her memories, outside of purging digital records and confirming Ms Feng didn¡¯t have a failsafe alarm; she didn¡¯t. That done, Gaz pulled the chassis schematics out of Ms Feng, something her own systems lacked, and put the woman into a chemically induced sleep for six hours. The rest of Gaz¡¯s shift.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Spike retracted, Gaz looked down at what she¡¯d done. Plainly, she¡¯d just pissed off one of the richest people she¡¯d ever met in this sector of space. This was the kind of person who might buy and sell this station on a lark. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    She kept swearing at herself as she jumped up to a ventilation shaft and transformed into a drone. Two separate coprocessors scanned over the material from Ms Feng¡¯s chassis, along with a few extra bits of useful information Gaz had pulled off of her.


    Time to get off of this station. Debt or no debt.

 Chapter 10 - Alaya

    Tension crawled over Alaya¡¯s back and shoulders. Isham stood back there, behind her. His presence pulled in and thinner than nanowire, he still set Alaya on edge. Because my survival instincts still work.


    Vora, the member of her team most likely to murder Alaya, was on the docks at that very moment. Isham and Alaya watched from a service access hatch. A major part of stealing from a guest was not letting the theft get traced back to Nissa. Bahl-Mau could have a reputation as unsafe, that was fine. But the gangsters there required a reputation for trustworthiness or their fellows would avoid the place, along with the wealthier marks.


    It was also why the tourist had made himself such a natural target. They weren¡¯t welcome anywhere in the black. Their credits were more than welcome, but they weren¡¯t. And when they traveled out here where spacing was high on the list of acceptable punishments, no one minded if a tourist or two got tossed into the void and their property confiscated by dock authorities. Especially if that property found its way around the station in the form of gifts.


    Activity in those docks looked like a normal day now. Even the damaged area had been cleaned up so there was little indication of the accident aside from the cordon. There was no sign of Vora either. Gaz had stealth capabilities built into her chassis, but they weren¡¯t quite up to the caliber of Vora¡¯s. Funny whoever set her up didn¡¯t bother with chem. Though she knew which hatch Vora used to enter and exit, Alaya couldn¡¯t actually see the hatch opening or closing. This was only a guess, but Alaya suspected Vora¡¯s projection capabilities exceeded the size of her frame.


    ¡°That is one damn secure ship.¡± Vora¡¯s voice sounded next to Alaya¡¯s ear.


    Cute try. But Alaya had been waiting for it, so showed no reaction when she said, ¡°but did you get control? Or at least plant the device?¡±


    ¡°I planted it, but nothing happened.¡±


    Alaya kept the irritation off of her face. ¡°Good. Nothing is supposed to happen. Not until I activate it.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°And then I give the ship to Nissa. Simple.¡±


    Isham nodded and started walking back down the tunnels. ¡°I¡¯m just supposed to accept that. You have a magic box that can take over a void ship? A fucking SenoAg coupe no less?¡±


    Alaya had practically drooled when she¡¯d read that detail in the file. SenoAg Industries produced a line of the finest void ships in any Loop. They were expensive as the best kinds of sin and could take a serious beating before they dropped their passengers off at the Styx. ¡°The only bad thing about SenoAg is their dig-sec. They used to use Yamadana Tech¡¯s flight and control package, but they switched over to Goengruen.¡±


    Vora slowed, but still scowled. ¡°Cause they¡¯re the best.¡±


    ¡°Ha. No. They are the most expensive. And if you need a course plotted, a firing solution calculated, all while your personal AI butler preps dinner and installs your replacement kidney, done. Their processors are fast, efficient, and chunky. But their OS is rotten crap. And techs like me love nothing more than owning an elite system like that and un-fucking the security holes.¡± Alaya activated one of her implants. It pinged the black box she¡¯d given Vora. The SenoAg was already purring back to her with streams of data readouts and statuses. ¡°The ship¡¯s already mine.¡± She pointed up at the aft warning lights. ¡°Hello Vora. This is Alaya.¡± They blinked in time with Alaya¡¯s tone.


    Her scowl deepened, but Isham actually laughed. ¡°Can you make it dance?¡±


    Sure, he was dangerous. But Alaya had lived longer among the dangerous than the gentle. And Isham was growing on her. ¡°Wanna take her for a spin? She¡¯ll dance in the black.¡±


    Isham shrugged, this time less indifferent and more ¡°name the time.¡±


    Alaya took a look back at that ship. It had a raptor-like appearance with a fake cockpit in the nose which itself had a slight crook to it. Those wings might have supported the ship in atmosphere, but that made no sense with suspensor technology, which the SenoAg definitely possessed. The owner had given the poor ship a terrible name: The Musk Duster. A part of her wanted to kill him just for that. He definitely did not deserve such a fine vessel.


    There were good reasons to take over a ship before rolling her captain. Not the least of which were her weapons, which dock control could usually override, but not always. Ship out of the way the only thing remaining was for Alaya and her team to hit their VIP.


    Off to the guest wing of the station. Security here would be tighter than the rest, tighter than the docks even. Alaya didn¡¯t come here often, only when she had to hup some high roller¡¯s luggage all the way out from the docks. Inevitably they stiffed her when she finished.


    It soured her even more on their as of yet nameless target. According to the file Nissa sent, he was a cyl-born rich boy out of some inner ring. Standard augment package, a few combat mods Isham had to be aware of, but nothing extreme. In terms of weapons, the only thing he registered was an old Nomad II. That gun was the first grudging ounce of respect Alaya was willing to give their target.


    The second model of Nomad material pistol stood among the top three personal weapons in the solar system as far as Alaya was concerned. In part because her father adored those guns. But the technical specs spoke for themselves. They loaded mass, not rounds. Anything, up to and including good old H2O could be used as ammunition. Nomads fabbed their rounds as needed and when full could fire continuously for hours before running out. With a switch, a gunner could change between HE, Incendiary, and of course, normal bullets. The only thing the gun lacked that other models might have was a guidance system for propelled rounds.


    Security eyed them as Isham and Alaya walked through the guest quarters. They were dressed like visitors, but with a keen-enough eye, those folks might have tripped them up. Not today though. The teams were more interested in threats at the entrance to the guest area than people already inside.


    Alaya had tried to get the room next to their target when she¡¯d registered. But it was taken. In a fit of pique, she¡¯d almost had whoever happened to have that room ejected from the station, but that would have required looking them up in the first place and breaking into a different system. More work in other words. So she just reserved one room over. They weren¡¯t bashing through a set of guest walls anyway. There would be a quicker way to piss Nissa off later, Alaya was sure of it.


    Vora had already laid out most of their gear, including Isham¡¯s weapons and armor. Alaya¡¯s bags remained packed in the corner. Their little sneaky-lady did not care for Alaya. And frankly, Alaya thought she could soak her head in liquid nitrogen. They were never going to get along. Attitude or no, Alaya couldn¡¯t dispute the woman¡¯s skills. Only an idiot would look at her rig and imagine Vora survived on the level of her technology alone.


    ¡°Has he left his room?¡± Isham asked the question as he went over his weapons meticulously. Most of what Alaya saw she recognized. Her respect for Isham rose with each item. As did the bulb of fear in her belly.


    Nanowire, sometimes erroneously called ¡°monofilament¡± wire, lay in spools on the bed. Isham checked each one and loaded them into hatches on his arms and calves. Next to where those nanowire spools lay were a pair of GRG Combat Drones. The tech otaku in Alaya¡¯s brain wanted to scoop them up and sniff them. Those drones were two of the most dangerous weapon platforms outside of void ships and combat borgs. A good drone operator ¡ª Kirk might have learned to if not for, shut that down ¡ª could pilot those drones to total victory over a platoon of baseline marines. Not that anyone with a reasonable neuron in their skull would field a platoon of baseline anything.


    Isham loaded the drones into his chest, beneath his shirt. Second to last he slipped a quartet of blackened carbonized blades into his forearms and shins. Alaya might have been concerned, but she¡¯d grown in the void. This kind of load out wasn¡¯t even a special occasions deal for someone like Isham. Or her.


    A pair of twinned Kytani pulse pistols finished up his weapon selection. They were carbon-blackened like his blades and had prayers scribed along the barrel; pulse weapons didn¡¯t technically require barrels, but often possessed them because the more advanced weapons could control the pulse spread using magnetic modulation along the barrel. Her coproc translated the prayers as she studied the barrels. The left said: ¡°While I have the Power and the Ability,¡± and the right said, ¡°I shall teach Truth and Virtue.¡±


    Not at all what she expected to find on Isham¡¯s guns. Even her mother¡¯s prodigious instruction had never included such a quote. It took her coprocessor a solid minute to find the reference. It was a Zoroastrian quote. To cover up for the delay, Alaya quipped. ¡°So¡­ why do I feel like that absurd arming sequence is your only nod to your idiom?¡±


    Isham cocked his head to the left, another odd gesture for the otherwise expressionless man. ¡°Because you are astute.¡± It was a tiny smile, so thin it might have been a film grain cast over her optics. And then it was gone.


    ¡°Are you two ready?¡± Vora had her hand on her hip and her appearance camouflaged so there was no way to tell what expression she wore.


    Alaya could imagine. ¡°I have to unload my gear.¡± It took her a second to rewind. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer Isham¡¯s question.¡±


    Vora twitched. ¡°The tourist has been locked up in there slogging himself all day.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Alaya wrinkled her nose.


    ¡°No, twit. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s been fucking doing.¡±


    Alaya¡¯s hand stopped on the bag. ¡°Why not? You didn¡¯t toss a drone or take any kind of peek in there?¡±


    ¡°Bitch, I tried, but I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    Ignoring the insult, Alaya¡¯s belly rolled. This was the first sign of deviation. ¡°What went wrong?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He has some kind of fucking shield up around his room.¡±


    ¡°What kind of shield? Arcane? Nano-exclusion? What?¡± This time, Isham spoke. His tone was even and his face neutral as usual. But the fact of his interest raised Alaya¡¯s alarm level one more notch. Every question he posed had been the same on Alaya¡¯s mind.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Every job had a tangle, a little wrinkle that might or might not blow the whole fucking thing up. And here it was. ¡°I¡¯m going to check right now.¡± She grabbed a drone magazine from her bag. Where Isham carried two combat drones, Alaya carried over thirty. None of her¡¯s packed the kind of punch the GRG combat drones did, they were mostly scouting/sab loaded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go out there alone.¡± This time Vora moved to intercept Alaya.


    Temptation reared its head in Alaya¡¯s throat. Now you¡¯re serious about the job? But if she said what she was thinking, Vora would only become a bigger pain in the ass. Not that she had much room in that regard. ¡°Okay. You¡¯re covering me?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± The scorn was obvious in Vora¡¯s tone.


    ¡°Then you¡¯re on support Isham stay here unless you hear shouting.¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± He walked over to the faux wooden chair near the door and sat down.


    Ducks in place, Alaya waited for Vora to expand her camo field. Once it was in place, Isham opened the door and the two women waltzed out of the room in tandem. Synchronizing their steps was simple compared to baseline because their cybercircuits sought to move them in unison upon command.


    They passed the second doorway where a muffled voice argued loudly with someone else. Alaya appreciated the fact that maybe someone else suffered under their own personal Vora too. At the target¡¯s door, Vora and Alaya stopped. The former cocked her hip and remained in place while Alaya deployed a drone at the door.


    Finesse made all of the difference here. Most anti-intrusion fields kept out all living things, all digital signals, or had some anti-nano capability. The key was to find out which one, how to counter, and to keep the owner¡¯s own security system from detecting the intrusion.


    Alaya¡¯s drones were kitted out for this purpose, tweaked by herself and Gaz. Probes on the drone failed in several ways and almost sat Alaya back on her heels. This tourist was suddenly interesting. His ship had practically been a joke to take over, what with the simple vulnerabilities Alaya had exploited. But his personal quarters were a nightmare. Very rarely did one encounter a field which blocked a broad spectrum of intrusion. Whatever this guy was using was high end and might employ active counter-measures. Meaning just trying to step into his room might disintegrate or space one of Alaya¡¯s crew.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± She kept her curse over their tight band and signaled Vora back to their room. ¡°We¡¯re down to plan D in terms of surveillance.¡± She waited to report until back in her room.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Because this guy is running a fucking alpha-cherry security field. I¡¯ve heard about shit like this, but cracking it will take a tick or three.¡± Alaya thought about it for a moment. ¡°Actually this plan F. We¡¯re going to cut through at least part of this guy¡¯s setup.¡±


    Vents. A long, long time ago, films and TV loved to show people crawling through air spaces they would never manage in reality. But out here in space there was no shoving something out of sight and in place where a hand couldn¡¯t access it if needed. Even in the time of ubiquitous drones, no one wanted thousands to die because all of the batteries were down and no one could reach the life-saving reset button. A place like Bahl-Mau, built late enough for such constant, direct access to be critical, still had good sized vents with little security between them other than the grating itself. Unlike a door or other fixture material had to pass through the vent or the occupant could suffocate.


    It was worth a try.


    ¡°So what, are we just waiting?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Alaya had already shifted what was happening in the room to her coprocessors. Her main attention transferred to her drones. Three of them flew up to her vent and out, into the main plenum and through toward their target¡¯s room.


    Their next door neighbor had lowered his voice now, but he still sounded angry with whomever he was chatting with. Alaya recorded the whole thing with her coprocessor for later review. Maybe it would be funny.


    Nothing came out of their target¡¯s room. Before she sent her drones through the vent opening and out the exit, she set them to checking for the security fields and either adapt or deactivat them. One of the drones just looked through the grating visually.


    Their target sat on the anemic couch visitors received with his eyes blank and staring up. It was a sim trance. He could have been commanding his own drones for all Alaya knew. Unlike Isham, who could have been practically any age or nationality, this man was extremely fair complected and grey haired. His skin was wrinkled, but not excessively so. He was one of those wealthy who chose to leave his apparent age on the older side. It made sense, especially for men who would borrowed authority with grey hair and age.


    Drone scans clocked a major series of cybernetic augments installed in the man¡¯s body. This was on the level Alaya would have expected from a cylinder-born person. He¡¯d received some of those near birth and would have gotten new ones every year after.


    On the table next to him was a field generator. Chills ran over Alaya as she scanned it. They were going to have trouble stopping that field. For one, the generator itself was huge powerful enough to fill a much larger area. Which meant the effect would be concentrated. For two, Alaya couldn¡¯t find the generator¡¯s make or ID anywhere in any network she had access to. It was either a custom piece or something more sinister.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± She pulled her drones back. Plan L it was then. ¡°I need you to setup a GRG in the vent system Isham. You need to take out a field generator before we can breach the door safely.¡±


    ¡°Point the way.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just going to shoot it?¡± Vora sounded unimpressed.


    ¡°Unless you know a way to sneak something through that field, shooting it¡¯s our only chance.¡± Alaya addressed Isham. ¡°It¡¯ll burn out the first few rounds, so go full auto. Silenced if you can. If not, don¡¯t sweat it.¡±


    She outlined the plan for both of them. This would be noisier than she wanted, more likely to result in their target¡¯s death, which she would have liked to avoid, and it was a little monkey-brained. If she¡¯d had time for clever, she might have tried to concoct something more elegant.


    New-fangled field generator, I would like to introduce you to your great grandfather several times removed: Isaac Fucking-Newton.


    The second they left their nondescript guest room, Isham came with the two women. The plan was frustratingly simple as far as Alaya was concerned: barge in, grab the loot, and leave. If Mr Sim woke up and attacked, then he would suffer Isham¡¯s displeasure. Or pleasure, it was hard to tell with Isham. The key was, they had to wait until the second GRG put enough rounds into the field generator to stop it.


    Those shots were utterly silent. The field generator¡¯s explosion was not. It burst like an overripe capacitor, flames, goo, and displeased smoke all escaped from the black casing. That sound was also the go signal for Alaya¡¯s crew.


    She had the door unlocked before Isham sent the kill command to his drone and opened a microsecond after the explosion. Time around her slowed down as every processor and ever core augment narrowed her focus to his instant.


    Vora shot ahead of them, angling away from the main room toward the principle¡¯s bedroom. His room was laid out identically to their own, so Vora¡¯s path was utterly clear. Either she didn¡¯t care, or she didn¡¯t consider their target a threat as he sat up from the couch.


    Vora died in a spray of metal and flesh as the man on the couch pointed at her. The level of spellcasting such a feat required hit Alaya with a heavy spike of fear and adrenaline. Unfortunately for the man on the table, he¡¯d seen through Vora¡¯s camouflage and killed her instead of Isham, who was the much bigger threat. Twin blades scissored through the man¡¯s neck. Normal metal, swung by weak fleshy arms would have caught on the spinal column, especially the titanium column their target wore.


    But Isham¡¯s weapons were anything but common and his strength was vast considering his size. The head flew off as Alaya let out a heartfelt ¡°fuck¡±. Vora was an annoying bitch, but losing someone on her first mission was a bad look.


    Isham completed his movement, with his back foot down and his hands at his sides. Alaya shouted at him to run as she heard a supersonic whine coming from their target¡¯s body. He moved fast, Alaya had seen Gaz move at her top speed and in that moment, she was pretty sure Isham beat her. Like a depleted uranium round fired out of a railgun, Isham hit Alaya with incredible force. But he didn¡¯t break or injure her. He grabbed her and threw her in front of him, out of the room and into the lane outside.Stolen story; please report.


    The ensuing blast spun Alaya side over side away from the room. Sensors flickering and red lines across her internal scans, Alaya ignored them and forced herself to her feet. Incredibly, the explosionhadn¡¯t damaged the walls or structure, but had instead thrown a five meter column of flame out of doorway. Where Isham had been standing.


    His body lay crumpled forward, smoking and missing all cloth and most of its flesh. He was probably dead. Next to their target¡¯s room, the man who¡¯d been staying there finally came out and Alaya had a look at him.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± It was Kowal. Of course it was.


    He¡¯d hardly changed since he¡¯d killed Alaya¡¯s mother and father, tried to kill her. Face, build, even his hat and suit were the same. There was something different about him now, a wildness at the edges of his eyes. Or maybe he was just reasonably panicked about the suite next to his own exploding. Very reasonable to panic over such a thing. Alaya looked nothing like the eight-year old girl this monster had terrorized, so he didn¡¯t recognize her.


    She lurched toward him, still ignoring the flashing warnings from her cyberware. Kowal had gained feet and menace in Alaya¡¯s brain over the years. Seeing him so afraid and reduced, relatively speaking, only made her want to catch him and crush him then and there. All she had to do was reach him.


    Her legs began to shake as she moved. Those red flashing warnings were actually not supposed to be ignored. Alaya¡¯s hindbrain knew that, but the rest didn¡¯t care. Shaking trunk and unsteady balance aside, Alaya continued after Kowal. The coward sprinted away before smoldering arms wrapped around her torso and pulled her back.


    ¡°There is nothing in there, ma¡¯am.¡± It was Isham¡¯s voice, raw and mechanical. ¡°Your body is severely damaged. You are going to enter shock within the minute if you are not stabilized.¡±


    ¡°What just happened?¡±


    ¡°Our visitor was someone other than what they represented. And they were certainly casting remote into the station.¡±


    ¡°He exploded.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. If not for your warning, I believe we both would have been incinerated.¡± Isham lurched himself and said, ¡°I wonder. Have you attempted to access station security since you woke?¡±


    Too many systems in Alaya¡¯s body had redlined. All but two coprocessors were offline and both of those were occupied in keeping her body alive. Emergency systems she¡¯d put in place had already begun broadcasting her location to Gaz. Which meant Nissa and whoever else wanted could also locate her. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°We are already flagged as criminal elements.¡±


    ¡°How long was I out?¡± Fuck it. Alaya kicked on her real implant. If the whole sector of space knew she was a fucking princess, they would just have to deal with it. Time synchronized and she discovered her systems had been down for less than two seconds. The order to make Alaya and her team criminals had gone out before they¡¯d even started the job.


    They were being setup.


    ¡°Who the fuck was our target?¡± Alaya slurred her words as she tried to look up at Isham. He was all metal and chassis now. She hadn¡¯t done her homework properly. This was all her fault, Isham, Kowal, and¡­ gods please don¡¯t let Gaz be hurt.


    ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª


    Time worked against Gaz now. She could access her personal credit accounts, log into her work accounts as well. But the moment she did either of those things, algorithms would begin seeking answers to broad-mandate questions. Questions like: ¡°If Gaz is out of her room and checking her accounts, why isn¡¯t Ms Feng?¡± All that had to happen to ruin Gaz¡¯s decade would be for one of those algorithms to complete its sequence by posing this question to one of Ms Feng¡¯s personal guards.


    Bad times.


    For now, Gaz kept off the net and off of the radar. Security personnel could manage that much better than regular citizens. Normally. But Gaz couldn¡¯t log into anything to give herself clearance. So she took a new shape and acted like a drudge. It was a convenient disguise right up until she reached Nissa¡¯s sector of the station.


    Before the place had looked alert, a few more guards with armor and slightly better weapons. All veneer of peace was gone now. Two large mech walkers stood guard at Nissa¡¯s. They were both armed with ship-killer plasmas and ballistic munitions. Just one of them, technically any human holding one of those weapons in their own arms, could destroy the entire station in a few minutes.


    Nissa had two of them. Live and scanning anyone who happened by. Gaz did not need to attract their attention. The scanners on something like that might note an anomaly with her chassis.


    Worse times.


    Reaching out to Alaya might get her killed. Waiting to hear from her might drive Gaz mad. Madness it was. Gaz found a darkened corner of the station and hunkered down. Many timers ticked down around her, hemming her in virtually and mentally. Eventually they would find Ms Feng. It didn¡¯t really matter who ¡°they¡± were. Once the information hit her guards, Gaz would become target number one for the entire station. Maybe the entire Loop.


    Based on what Gaz had done to her, Ms Feng had at least four more hours before she woke up. If security had not flagged Gaz within three hours and thirty, she was going to contact Alaya. By then they would need to make preparations to escape.


    Gaz had almost completed her settling in to wait when an explosion shook this section of the station. At once her sensors ran a scan of the blast and location and found it in the guest area of the station. Not two seconds later Gaz received an alarm she¡¯d learned to dread: Alaya¡¯s life signs had gone critical.


    Normal people only perceived time in a rather gross fashion. At the very fastest, a person could perceive and respond within a few milliseconds. Neural processes ¡ª purely mental ¡ª occurred at a speed close to that of sound. Such a speed set the perceptive limit for humanity over at least two millions years of life. In the last two thousand, that limit was shattered.


    Gaz perceived time down to the nanosecond scale. The people she ran by appeared still next to Gaz, not because she moved so quickly, but because her perceptions had been tuned to their maximum resolution. Every system in Gaz¡¯s body had gone active. She¡¯d ceased analyzing the information she¡¯d stolen from Ms Feng. She¡¯d stopped her chem trail tracking or her drone monitoring. All that mattered to her was Alaya¡¯s safety.


    Drones swarmed ahead of Alaya, flying faster than she could run, they reached Alaya before Gaz did. Horror might have stopped a baseline human. Parts of Alaya¡¯s face and front were burned off. Cyberware the two of them had installed in her exposed spewing fluids and sparks. Another cyborg supported Alaya, appeared to be helping, not hindering her. Otherwise Gaz would have turned her weapons on that cyborg. Her drones began immediately administering sedatives, anti-bacterials, and regeneratives to Alaya.


    Attention thus fixed on her charge, Gaz had failed to keep proper track of her surroundings. It was the cost of turning every system to the same end. What would have normally kept her alert and aware had essentially been turned off.


    Force akin to a steel press, applied in a millisecond crushed Gaz¡¯s skull. If not for an old lesson, one of her earliest, Gaz would have died then. But she kept her cranial matter in the locus of her gut, where most opponents wouldn¡¯t bother to hit.


    Proximity drones fired off their warnings far too late to help Gaz. And they sent their payload containing the identity of her attacker: McRory. He needed no mechanized suit to destroy Gaz¡¯s body if he wanted.


    The question before Gaz was how to respond. A hulking cyborg, stronger, faster, and with technology likely as advanced as her own had flattened her in one blow. Either respond in kind or fake her own death. It was an easy decision.


    She¡¯d personally witnessed what happened when the brain pans of cyborgs in her line were crushed. It was a simple matter to twitch her body and fire off a few convincing sparks. McRory paused over her and shoved her head into the metal of the wall, like he was trying to scrape her brains off of his knuckles.


    People who thought like him probably kept their brains out of their skulls too. The only person Gaz had known directly with any similarity to McRory had done the same. The question was where? If she scanned him, it would tip him off she was still alive. And surprise was the only chance Gaz had. She had two limbs and one chance.


    So two guesses.


    One was the lower waist; the same place, more or less, Jaree had claimed to keep their brain. The second choice was her own location: right in the center of her gut.


    McRory chuckled scornfully as he rose and shook his fist. ¡°Bitch wasn¡¯t¡­¡± He¡¯d looked over at someone for a moment. It might have been the only opening Gaz would get. She drove one hand up through his crotch and the other two feet up through his hara - his belly. Losing a mental bet with herself, her nanites speared brain tissue through the upper section.


    McRory shouted in rage, raising both fists before his systems panicked and shut down from neural trauma. Gaz moved with her liquid grace as McRory¡¯s aborted shout continued and he brought his hands down where she¡¯d been.


    This time she risked the ping and scanned him. Sure enough she¡¯d hit his brain right through. The nanites in her carapace had already eaten through the tissues. McRory was dead. But his cybernetics had a berserk mode. Standing next to him was the silhouette of a woman, who might have avoided another person¡¯s notice, but not Gaz. The woman had activated some kind of stealth generator and vanished off of most sensors.


    Gaz had other methods of tracking people nearby no stealth generator could fool. McRory had been speaking to her and she was trying to escape before McRory¡¯s berserk caught her. So Gaz dusted her with luminescent nanite particles, covered the whole area with a burst of them as she condensed her body down to the size of a sparrow and flapped up to the rafters. Berserk, McRory brought his hands down on the woman, crumpling her, but not breaking her stealth field until the second blow. She had nothing against the unknown woman, now lying there twitching in puddles of her own fluids. A berserk like McRory needed to kill everything in sight before he settled.


    Now that her senses were back in the now, Gaz detected the rocket launch before the projectiles flew at her. Sparrows were not the most aerodynamic birds, just the most ubiquitous. But Gaz didn¡¯t need to be aerodynamic to avoid those rockets, she needed to be quick. Mechs had moved to the front and back of the large concourse to hem her in. They weren¡¯t firing their real weapons yet, so Gaz swiveled toward the one closest to McRory¡¯s now dormant corpse.


    It was gruesome, but she had an idea.


    Flechette nanites burst from firing pods along Gaz¡¯s wings as she aimed toward the mech. The pilot knew their business and strode out of the line of fire like a consummate professional. It was almost shame to kill them.


    Gaz¡¯s bird form collapsed among the wreckage of McRory and the small pile of broken cyborg he¡¯d created. Ignoring his memory banks and personal settings, Gaz inserted a nanite thread which, in the absence of his brain, allowed her to drone the massive warrior. Her own body as the harness, she grabbed ahold of the other stealthed cyborg and pulled her up when McRory rose.


    A part of her giggled when she looked at McRory¡¯s load out. When the pilot of the mech who¡¯d been her target took a faltering step back at the sight of McRory¡¯s resurrection, Gaz did laugh. It wasn¡¯t kind to laugh at someone¡¯s death. But in fairness, they¡¯d fired the first shot. Silent as the void, McRory charged. It was difficult not to appreciate the elegant design which allowed almost three tons of cyborg to sprint forward at full speed without making a huge racket.


    Calamity roared over the concourse as McRory hit the mech. If she hadn¡¯t seen him in action already, Gaz would have bet on the mech over McRory. But he tore the armored suit open with the same speed and ease an adult handles a simple bag of kale. The way he¡¯d bent and folded the cockpit, the pilot did not survive.


    McRory spun without a sound and swatted two rockets out of the air before they contacted with him. The second mech pilot had a set of balls on them. Maybe too big. Gaz had McRory tear the ship-class rail-gun off the mech. Normally there would be no firing such a weapon, but McRory and Gaz had access to cybermorphic nanites. Before he¡¯d finished turning, Gaz had control over the mech gun.


    The second pilot fired their rockets a little too late. Two hole appeared in the center of their mech suit, both of them leaking fluids. Alarms blared over the station at the breach Gaz had just ripped in the hull. This was best, really. It would be easer to tear her way through airlocks than it would be to fight her way.


    Besides, she was incredible close to Alaya now and nothing stood in her way. Armed with a railgun capable of punching a hole in the station and the rocket pods ripped off of the first mech, no one stopped McRory as he charged toward Alaya, smashing through anything in Gaz¡¯s way.


    She found Alaya standing next to a strange man. If she¡¯d had a clear line on him, Gaz might have shot him on principle. Her medical drones had ignored him, but her sensors had picked up the way he¡¯d taken care of and protected Alaya while she was injured. With his skin burned away, Gaz could make out the the details of his guy¡¯s cyborg chassis. He wasn¡¯t on McRory¡¯s level, or on Gaz¡¯s. But he was close. His combat augments were top of the line outside of speciality shops. The pistols at his sides had seen use. Pulse pistols were uncommon and ideally designed for the same kind of black work Gaz had done once upon a time: these were assassin¡¯s weapons: designed to take out biologics without damaging the cybernetic or arcane parts.


    Surprisingly, the faceless cyborg stepped between McRory and Alaya. ¡°Sorry sir, but our mission was a bust. We¡¯re ready to report.¡±


    Nissa. Alaya had been doing a job for the underboss¡­


    Before Gaz came up with a fitting retort, the cyborg pulled his Kytani pulse gun and fired once into McRory. At the same time he grabbed Alaya around the waist and rolled away with her, keeping her on the opposite side from McRory.


    Few things would have stopped Gaz and forced her to turn her whole processing system on events so thoroughly. He¡¯s trying to save her.


    ¡°Alaya, tell your erstwhile savior to stop running from me, please. We need to get out of h¡­¡±


    ¡°Mistress?¡± It was Darby¡¯s voice, over the general line, the same one Gaz was using. ¡°Is radio silence ended? Someone is lurking around the our flagship. Should I turn our weapons on him?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Gaz and Alaya spoke at the same time. ¡°Who the hell is it and do you have weapons control?¡±


    ¡°I am sorry, but dock authorities have not released the weapons lock. Oh! The intruder has gained access to the aft docking ing ing ing¡­¡± Darby started glitching as a voice purred over their general line.


    ¡°I just knew I could not trust you, little mouse.¡± Gaz had not met Nissa directly, but she didn¡¯t have to guess.


    ¡°Well bitch, you¡¯re the one who set me up.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes, but your little illegal cyborg slave killed her back up. Well played.¡±


    Neither Gaz nor Alaya had a chance to respond as a railgun round hit McRory in the side, right through the location of his brain. It did nothing to the huge man, but it did put second hole in the station.


    ¡°You¡¯re just going to take us out from a distance?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, better to take you out with railgun than dirty my own claws.¡±


    Gaz smiled to herself. McRory hadn¡¯t really ousted her from their security room. She¡¯d been there personally and though she¡¯d had to cut off communication with the drones she¡¯d left there, she didn¡¯t have to leave it off. Activating those had been as simple as bending her foot. Having them perform a VonNemann maneuver in the security control room had taken a little time. Enough for Nissa to find them and start firing. But as the woman bragged, Gaz¡¯s remote drones reached critical levels in the security control system.


    They hit their own version of a berserk mode. The only thing Gaz didn¡¯t mess with was the airlock control systems for the railgun holes already piercing the hull. She locked Nissa and her people out of their computers as hard as she could, including burning several hard lines which led to other sections of the station.


    She kept their ship on lockdown, considering it had been invaded. But something had gone wrong with the dock controls. At least one other group ¡ª probably Kowal ¡ª had sabotaged Bahl-Mau IV.


    ¡°Grab Alaya and follow me!¡± Gaz shouted at the skinless cyborg who consoled with Alaya long enough to nod to her and jog up.


    ¡°Kirk.¡± Alaya¡¯s voice came out over the comms. ¡°Please save kirk.¡±


    ¡°You need to rest, you¡¯re badly injured.¡± Gaz didn¡¯t want to be the one to say it, but they needed to get Alaya more cyberware, pretty soon. Some of the damage could be permanent this time. And if not this time, the next.


    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll save him.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Of course.¡± It was etched in platinum now. Gaz consulted security¡¯s map of the station and found where they were keeping Kirk. It was a bleak discovery when she realized it. But she¡¯d made a promise. Hopefully they could save the boy and reach their ship before whoever was aboard managed to steal it.


    McRory and the skinless cyborg ¡ª Isham ¡ª made excellent time to the stocks. Two hapless humans guarded the stocks, but they laid down their weapons and ran off when faced with the prospect of fighting McRory. Handy.


    Fortunately Gaz had already sedated Alaya by the time they reached the stocks. Kirk¡¯s body had been recycled already. He was in big trouble, and would probably be spaced or worse in the next few days. A few pounds of flesh and some attached cyberware floated in a quartz vessel fed by a digital system in the base which sustained the neural matter and, usually in these cases, tortured it too. Poor kid. Gaz would have just killed him and recycled him.


    She pulled him into their bundle of fallen cyborgs and turned. McRory¡¯s frame split in two as a series of anti-material rockets hit him right in the center of mass. Nanomachines melted under the heat, and if he¡¯d had any brain matter left, McRory would have died.


    Playing dead had worked last time so Gaz set him down and let him twitch. A figure slithered about the doorway, undulating with her torso to keep herself upright. Two lower arms carried a large anti-material rocket launcher and the two upper stroked her chin.


    ¡°Well well, if it isn¡¯t our mouse and her little assistant.¡±


    Gaz spoke over the general band. ¡°We¡¯re sorry, Alaya cannot come to the line right now, would you like to leave a¡­¡±


    Rockets exploded overhead, ending Gaz¡¯s sarcastic response. ¡°That¡¯s enough. Come out so I can confirm you¡¯re the cyborg I want or I will rocket Alaya back into the afterlife.


    ¡°Mmm, I suspect you¡¯ll do that anyway.¡±


    ¡°And yet you have no choice. Do it or watch your friend die.¡±


    A single eye blinked at Gaz from behind Alaya. It wasn¡¯t her, but rather the skinless cyborg. Could she trust him? He¡¯d saved Alaya so far. ¡°Fine. Give me a second.¡± Gaz prepped a sequence in her drones in case she was about to die. She released McRory, though left herself in control of his chassis and the other stealthed chassis. Then she stood up as if she¡¯d been hiding among the debris.


    ¡°Selen was telling the truth.¡±


    Fuck. That could only be Selen Feng. ¡°About what?¡±


    McRory didn¡¯t move, but simply made sure his chassis had control over the rocket pod still.


    Nissa made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. ¡°It¡¯s wasted on you.¡± If she¡¯d fired at Gaz, Nissa might have killed her. Gaz was entirely focused on McRory and keeping Alaya alive.


    So was Isham.


    He moved with a blur, standing in his current position one instance, three feet away the next. When he¡¯d planted his foot at the end of his impossible long step, McRory emptied her pod into Nissa.


    The explosion ripped out chunks of the section, exposing the stockade to the rest of the nearby station, which included the docks. Covered in dust and bits of ash, Gaz and the others appeared fine. The concussion didn¡¯t even affect Alaya.


    McRory picked up Gaz who picked up Kirk and the other chassis and ran ahead of Isham and Alaya toward the docks. Right as their ship took off, ripping pieces of the landing gear and weapons systems off of the hull. Gaz briefly considered having McRory toss her at the departing ship, but that would have separated her from Alaya.


    The other ships in the docks were already breaking lockdown. With as many explosions as the station had suffered, there was no reason to be surprised by the flight.


    Gaz unlocked every ship in the dock and considered which one she was going to take.


    ¡°You need a ship, do you not?¡± Isham addressed Gaz.


    ¡°Yes. Why?¡±


    He pointed to a SenoAg coupe large enough to fly twenty people comfortably. ¡°How will we get on?¡±


    Isham raised Alaya. ¡°She already took control of it. Can you do anything about that?¡±


    ¡°Really? Excellent.¡± Gaz rushed toward the SenoAg, ¡°The Musk Duster;¡± an odious name, and called up the usual security protocols she and Alaya used. As expected, Gaz hit on Alaya¡¯s control frequency at once.


    The door of the coupe popped open and Gaz dragged herself in by way of McRory and closed the door once everyone was in. Then she fired up the ship¡¯s engines. Aboard the station, security was going nuts while Gaz continued to play with them. She locked out weapons controls aboard the station and released her own shipboard weapons to herself.


    A coprocessor, one watching the monitors, interrupted Gaz¡¯s focus. Four people huddled outside their primary airlock. Two of them clutched at the third¡¯s hand. Tiny little humans, both of them clutching a different looking doll. A woman held the hands of the two children, her dirty brown hair matted to her face, back hunched by the weight of a small crate hung from her shoulders. A man jumped and waved at the camera. He was as dirty as the others, all of them with the look of drudges about them. Gaz noted black tattoos and scars peeking from beneath the adult¡¯s shirts, but couldn¡¯t see enough to gauge their significance.


    ¡°They will likely die with the others.¡± Isham¡¯s voice was monotone as he made his observation. ¡°We should depart now.¡±


    Alaya was in the medical creche already, recovering with the help of an incredibly advanced treatment and augmentation system. All they needed were the actual parts and the ship¡¯s autosurgeon could have upgraded Alaya as they took off.


    Gaz didn¡¯t initiate the launch sequence. Instead she stared at the monitor with the family standing under the camera. One of the children held a small bear. He or she, it was impossible to be sure at such a young age, looked oblivious to the danger his parents understood with panicked clarity. That child was on an adventure. The other child held a more human-like doll, something printed locally from public files. Unlike her younger sibling, this girl knew what was going on. Her eyes were blank and empty. Horror had already driven her beyond the point of breaking and this little girl could not know fear anymore. Just like Alaya. It had taken years to purge that stare from the young woman¡¯s eyes.


    She opened the door.


    ¡°This is foolishness, but I will guard the ramp.¡± Isham moved with a soldier¡¯s precision and abandon. Gaz felt the man¡¯s old war scars from across the room. Alaya would have missed it, but Isham wasn¡¯t just a vet, but something else. He¡¯d been put on ice and only woken to kill, Gaz could practically smell the freezer burn on him.


    ¡°Oh thank you, oh thank you so much!¡± The man burbled over himself as he hugged Isham and practically wept into his fleshless metal frame. Would he have been so glad to see Isham like that in other circumstances? How bad was it out there?


    The woman wore a blank expression nearly the twin of the older child. They didn¡¯t let each other go, but the youngest charged into the ship with a belly laugh, holding their bear tightly as they waddled in.


    Gaz redirected her attention back to the conn. This was a fine ship. With the dock controls released and free, Gaz only had to enter a simple command sequence to liftoff and turn to exit. The AI handled the rest. She could probably issue verbal commands without a problem. That could come later. The last thing she did before she broke contact with the computers in Bahl-Mau station was to record the flight data for Alaya¡¯s flagship. Before disconnecting, she pulled down as much data as she could regarding Kowal and the pirates, Nissa, and even Selen Feng.


    Whoever had taken their ship had a solid lead on them. Out in the void catching up with someone meant they were standing still. Ggraphene-thin margins split the difference between losing a target and keeping up with them. She set her AI to full follow mode and used the course Bahl-Mau had recorded for the flagship¡¯s trajectory.


    Then and only then did Gaz relax. Alaya was safe. She was safe. And they had a plan. She set coprocessors to review the flight data they¡¯d captured starting with whoever had stolen their flagship.


    About the same time she spotted Kowal boarding their ship, dozens of alerts fired off through the ship as proximity alarms joined them.


    ¡°Ah. It was inevitable.¡± Isham noted the event on his display and returned to watching the family Gaz had saved from Bahl-Mau IV. Or rather from the now blasted remains of the station. Most likely, Nissa and the other bosses, who themselves were projected into the station had decided to end their little game.


    There was no question who was directly responsible for this: those wealthy bastards who¡¯d callously murder millions for amusement. But then again, Gaz and Alaya were distally responsible. They¡¯d shaken the pillars of heaven knowing heaven could respond with meteors.


    Automated processes added to Gaz¡¯s lifetime death toll. Did she split the numbers with Alaya or was she responsible for more or less than half? What was she going to tell Alaya when she woke up?

 Interlude 1 - Janice Bachman

    ¡°Sweet hopping Christ.¡± Spare processors took over the task of saving the report and sending the acknowledgment receipts. Then other processors set about burning the trail which might lead from Janice Bachman to the open investigation of one ¡°Princess Alaya of the Alayan Empire.¡± The current holder of the Red Charter.


    The Red Charter. Three people knew the full details about it. On paper, Janice reported to the other two. One of whom called her on a secure line that very moment. ¡°Chairman.¡±


    ¡°Our index is down .3 percent. .3 percent Bachman. What in the godforsaken void happened?¡±


    Three people knew the full truth about Princess Alaya. Officially. The problem was too many people knew about a cherry fresh idiot with a Loop Charter who just exploded onto the scene by causing the destruction of an ancient relic of a station.¡°Our Red Charter holder is a loose canon. Obviously.¡±


    ¡°You said you had her under control.¡±


    God this feels like a clich¨¦. You know what happens next, he¡¯s going to threaten our position, I¡¯ll have to remind him I know what he knows and know that he knows. God. ¡°Mr Singh. Let¡¯s skip to the end here. Unless you have a perfect new candidate to take Alaya¡¯s place and can manage to kill her, I will handle this. We¡¯ve had what, four quiet generations? We should have taken a more active hand toward protecting the line if keeping them quiet was so important.¡± Chairman Singh took a breath for a protest. Janice was tired and too busy for a rant. ¡°What happened is in the past. I¡¯m sending a rep to intercept her. Either they¡¯ll help or they¡¯ll find a way to make her step aside.¡±


    ¡°Nelissan Arms spun up an interdiction fleet. Pirates out of five different Loops put a black body on her and anyone who helps her.¡±


    Chairman Singh delivered his news with such gravity, as if Janice¡¯s report hadn¡¯t contained much worse news than that. Might as well deliver the full medicine now. ¡°She¡¯s headed toward a Boho cluster.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡± His North American accent hardly ever came out, Chairman Singh had a finely honed politician¡¯s bearing. ¡°We should just bomb it before she gets there.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t. Guess which one she¡¯s headed to.¡±


    ¡°Not one of the testing clusters¡­¡±


    ¡°Worse.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°One of the rogues?¡±


    Chairman Singh was far from foolish. Since taking office, his decisions had generally fallen in line with the best interests of the economy and of stability. These were values Janice held in high regard. She¡¯d been in her own position long before the Rogue Bohemian Clusters had been created. Before Singh¡¯s time, the events which produced the rogues had been the results a fool¡¯s project, black and secret. As stupid and short-sighted as that old Etiolon evo-borg project they had to shut down centuries ago.


    A fleet admiral and several bucket loads of highly trained, self-sufficient MilCas personnel slipped into one of the floating clusters of stations and cylinders populated by bohemians, hippies, and other outcasts who refused to abide by the ISE rules.


    Eventually the dossier and a report on the project and its outcome landed in front of Janice. She¡¯d been furious. They¡¯d seeded a bunch of untraceable anarchists with top of line military equipment and training. Worst of all they¡¯d given the bohemians the means to reproduce it. MilCas had few hard rules and that lone idiot jarhead had broken almost all of them. Everything but actual treason. Janice made sure the admiral who¡¯d led the project was still screaming from his isolation jar. Despite her ministrations she hadn¡¯t uncovered the full reason the asshole had done it.


    Didn¡¯t matter now, somewhere between two and seven different Boho clusters had splinter MilCas operatives running around executing an assignment whose details Janice hadn¡¯t been able to tease out of the admiral.


    She disconnected from the Chairman and rolled out of her creche. Automated arms pulled away from where they¡¯d been massaging her body while she cast her mind away. Other arms descended from stark white painted walls and draped her for her day. Paintings older than the first cyberware stood before Janice in their original forms. This one of a woman in a rocking chair holding a horn to her ear.


    Janice adored that painting. People often mistook the horn as the most significant piece there, but Janice loved to remind them of the rocking chair, the woman¡¯s bonnet and dress, and even of the house in which the painting had been staged. Named ¡°Whistler¡¯s Mother,¡± Janice viewed it as the prototypical outline for the cyborg life.


    A lesser person, one like Chairman Singh, who might have balked at Janice¡¯s claims regarding her painting, might also have complained about Princess Alaya. Certainly what she¡¯d been doing created extra work for Janice.


    But it was exhilarating.


    For the first time in fifty years, Janice felt her blood pump hot in her veins. As she reached the door to her chamber, she dialed up her suites on IO. Warmth rolled over her as she walked through the portal and into a false sunrise. Nectar and pollen sweetened the air, bees hummed and people giggled not twenty meters away through the curtain rising up from the floor.


    This place invigorated her two centuries ago, but she hardly ever came back now. As she stepped out into the open and found participants bedecked in gaudy uniforms and frolicking in the most sybaritic fashion, she flushed and disrobed to join them. Not one of them knew her, not as the owner of the place. But they all took pleasure in their mutual explorations.


    The problem of Princess Alaya of the Alayan Empire need not wait on Janice, who had dispatched her agent long before she had accepted Chairman Singh¡¯s call.

 Chapter 11 - Alaya

    ¡°Dewdrops on the surface of the universe.¡± Father stared down her at her, his bright eyes shining despite being backlit. ¡°That¡¯s all any of us are, boop.¡±


    It sounded off, like a digital alarm¡¯s ¡°beep.¡± Alaya tore herself out of sleep with the fury of a psych patient refusing their meds. Up and panting, she stared out the window of her quarters. There was no glass there, not even high pressure quartz. Displays projected those billion billion dewdrops across a section of her room shaped like a window.


    When she¡¯d moved in here, the captain¡¯s quarters, Alaya had immediately redecorated. Writhing nude ladies grew old and she would have rather watched them cook or fix a broken recyke line than bend over like that. Now if they were real, that would have been different. Nope, she reset the projections to something more natural and soothing. In this case, one of her favorite captain¡¯s chambers from one of her favorite shows as a kid, Spacegirl Rinna and the Quantum Team. Ridiculous and produced to sell a subscription to a toy schematic service which had gone out of business centuries ago, the show maintained a special place in her heart.


    Oh but the show¡¯s colors, Ayala had loved them. Soft lavender for her carpet, which of course had to be shag. Dark metal edging with royal purple walls. Textured like stucco, a material mother had talked about, but Alaya had never seen in the flesh. These she¡¯d plucked from memories of the show¡¯s episodes played over and over again through illegal Net access terminals.


    There was no faulting the previous captain¡¯s tastes in terms of comfort. He¡¯d already installed carpeting in his ship and the nicest sheets credits could afford. Alaya had the place chemically cleaned and then had Gaz go over it again with her nanites. Her quarters had an actual, physical mirror, but Alaya kept away from it. She had an image of herself in her mind and the mirror seldom agreed. Today it would probably choose to point out exactly how badly she¡¯d been hurt escaping Bahl-Mau IV.


    And how many people I killed doing it. Hence the dream about her father. Sniffling came next, Alaya stared at the window and wished those dewdrops had been stars and not emblematic of the people she¡¯d gotten killed. Both of her parents lived on the fringes of society not because they were ignorant or criminals, but because they¡¯d been cursed with the same burden which afflicted Alaya.


    Unlike her they¡¯d left civilization behind and did their best to carry on without harming others.


    How well did that work out for them?


    She clenched her fists. The voices were new. Gaz and Isham had both pointed out she¡¯d been badly hurt in the first explosion, then the follow-up explosions. ¡°Brain damage,¡± ¡°possible long-term injuries,¡± these phrases sent Alaya into a near panic.


    Cybernetics kicked in and dosed her with a little dopamine and some serotonin to smooth out her mood. She took deep breaths and steadied herself. The ship they had was overkill for their little crew. It had enough hydrogen and they had a convenient advantage which would let them go on without the fuel.


    The SenoAg had a shipboard hydroponics setup for the full crew, but the last captain had left it in the packaging. Typical tourist. It helped to hate him, considering Alaya had gotten him killed too. With any luck ¡ª if there was such a thing in the first place ¡ª he was just casting into his body and suffered nothing more severe than a financial loss. Who was she kidding? Given her luck he was some diplomat or other and Alaya had started a hot war with his massive Loop nation.


    Grumbling about her misfortune, she stepped out of her chambers and into the main hallway. This she¡¯d left with a nice, neutral white. Not stark, but a warm off white.


    Six officer cabins, any of which could accommodate two people or even a family, plus four bunks which would sleep four each. It was a deceptively large ship to bear the name ¡°coupe.¡± According to the literature she found on the computer, the main cabin was the owner¡¯s room and the rest were for either extended family, guests, or servants. Madness.


    Isham got a room, Gaz got one, and the Dhingri family took a third. With Gaz¡¯s help Alaya had setup a system in the fourth room which would keep Kirk¡¯s jar powered and his brain alive until they could figure out what to do with it.


    McRory¡¯s former chassis was an option only if they could find a cyberdoc good enough to manipulate his cybernetics without killing Kirk or breaking McRory. That was a tall order. Another option was to use Vora¡¯s body and just replace the broken parts. A lot of those broken parts were in the skull.


    By the time Alaya reached the conn, her mood had gone from despondent to downright angry. The chems clearly failed. Nothing was going their way and it was all her fault. All she had to do was not take this job. Or spend an extra hour looking into their target instead of rushing it. Or maybe just not pissing off Nissa.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Gaz reached out to Alaya with the characteristic absence of expression. When had Alaya told her it upset her to see Gaz upset? I¡¯d said something like that, right? Was that a selfish thing to say?


    ¡°Crappy.¡±


    The conn opened with a panoramic view of space before them. When Alaya stepped into the room, it adapted to her preferences as the captain and provided the salient information with little variations across the screen. In the lower left quadrant she could see their local portion of the solar system. It was a portion of the outer asteroid belt called Donner¡¯s Tide on the charts. A pair of lines indicated the expanded part of the Tide where they were headed, where Kowal was also headed: Cluster Riggon.


    One of the old so-called bohemian clusters. If space was the mythical Old West of the American contingent, then the bohemian clusters were the wild lands. Along with the places pirates frequented, ancient map makers would have emblazoned a skull and crossbones on such a locale. Here be danger. At least there was precious little chance she could blow the whole cluster up. Please let that be true.


    Gaz¡¯s face hadn¡¯t changed and Alaya needed the help of a coprocessor to tell her what they¡¯d been talking about. ¡°Cheer up Gaz. At least this place doesn¡¯t use credit.¡±


    ¡°Can you feel the other ship?¡±


    Alaya closed her eyes and touched her implant, the one she¡¯d received from her mother. Reaching out to her flagship like this was a subtle use of the implant, unlikely to mark their location in the solar system for anyone who might be looking. But it was still best to keep such uses to a minimum. The implant pulled her in the same direction as their ship¡¯s sensors.


    A knock on the conn¡¯s door sent Alaya jumping. Gaz just admitted their guest. It was Isham, skin back after losing most of it to the fire which had messed Alaya up. He had a neutral look on his face too. ¡°Recyke and medical are back up.¡±


    ¡°They were both down?¡± This was the first Alaya had heard of this.


    Isham had her attention, so when his eye flicked over Alaya¡¯s shoulder toward Gaz, she missed whatever Gaz had done. Isham sighed and walked away. ¡°I think you should just tell her, obviously.¡±


    ¡°What are you keeping from me?¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Gaz folded lower, as if she¡¯d gained a new kilo on the weight she bore on her back. ¡°For a SenoAg, this ship has some serious faults. Recyke¡¯s broken three times since we started, medical once, and I don¡¯t how many times the kitchen¡¯s gone out.¡±


    ¡°Ugh. I¡¯ll check the specs and stuff later.¡±


    ¡°You need to rest and heal¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the most qualified technician aboard this ship and her captain. I can take care of¡­¡±


    ¡°As your friend,¡± Gaz laid a hand on the back of Alaya¡¯s, ¡°I am begging you to rest and heal. If we can¡¯t get you an implant, your brain needs downtime to mend.¡±


    Gall rose up in the back of Alaya¡¯s throat. She wanted to shout Gaz down, to force her to wallow in her share of the blame, the torment, the pain Alaya felt. But that wouldn¡¯t do anyone the least bit of good. ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll reach the first patrol line in seventy-two hours.¡± Gaz¡¯s eyes flicked out the door where Isham had gone. ¡°Or you could go talk to Marcus.¡±


    Deep sigh. Father had loved magic. But father had seen the good in everything, in everyone. Magic hadn¡¯t saved him, it had barely made their lives better. Alaya wasn¡¯t a fool, it was real. And she wasn¡¯t afraid, not exactly. She just didn¡¯t¡­ ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Gaz¡¯s eyes flicked to the polished white floors. ¡°That means you won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It means maybe!¡± Anger felt better than shame. ¡°Look maybe I will go talk to him right now!¡± She charged out of the conn, knowing she could have taken control of the ship the moment she felt like. Rather than head to speak to Marcus and all that entailed, Alaya made a turn back to her room and the simulation rig.


    Gaz would be really mad if she learned about this. Alaya put the headband on and logged into the system, ignoring the jolt of pain which shot behind her eyes. It made her dizzy, have to rock forward and back before she could find her balance seated. And then her somatic body vanished.


    It reformed in her favorite weremouse digital avatar. The ship had a private, personal network. And a decent library of media. But Alaya hadn¡¯t come for that. Standing in an old fashioned ice cream shop, the kinda with soda stands and tubs for scooping ice cream, Alaya knocked on the employee only door and waited.


    ¡°Come in.¡± It was a welcome voice, one of the few she¡¯d managed to save from Bahl-Mau.


    ¡°Hey Kirk.¡±


    Simulated apace gave Kirk a massive series of advantages. For one, he lived a high cycle count life. Normally, the somatic body and physical sense limitations governed how quickly a person perceived time. But locked in a jar and fed through the simulation, Kirk experienced time at about the scale Gaz said she could.


    When she walked into the room, she found an incredible old wooden library around her. The lighting shifted to electric sconces on the walls which separated long lines of leather bound tomes of various size and color. Dark blue velvet and blue dyed suede dominated the room, gave it a veneer of upper class excess.


    The stacks were arranged like the spokes of a wheel and at the center sat Kirk. He wore a blue smoking jacket and set a book down beside him which disintegrated after hanging in the air for a moment. ¡°¡®Laya! It¡¯s good to see you and bad to see you.¡±


    Alaya frowned. ¡°Bad? How?¡±


    He snorted. ¡°You¡¯re supposed be getting better.¡± Kirk hadn¡¯t lost his accent, but what amounted to several years¡¯ time spent reading, studying and practicing meant he¡¯d accumulated a fair amount of knowledge. Though she¡¯d never been jarred, Alaya had an inkling of what Kirk had gone through. ¡°I said you¡¯re not supposed to be here.¡±


    The second time he spoke snapped Alaya out of her distraction with his voice. ¡°I just wanted to see someone.¡±


    ¡°Someone who might not yell at you for screwing up your brain?¡± He stood up with the instant motion Gaz could manage in the real world, ending up less than a third of a meter from her. ¡°Picked the wrong guy!¡± Kirk actually pushed her out of the simulation.


    Alaya ended up on her back with the simlink device offline in her hand. ¡°Well fuck.¡±


    Might as well see what Marcus¡¯s kids are up to.


    At least if it felt like it was her own idea, Alaya could pretend not to be grumpy about it. Besides she adored those girls. Tammy was easily the cutest five-going-on-six year old Alaya had ever met and Beth¡¯s seriousness and precocious manner made her a pleasure to talk to.


    Fuck Marcus and his stupid religion.


    Alaya practically chanted the words on her way toward the Dhingri quarters. The kids wouldn¡¯t hassle her in the least. She hesitated before she knocked on their door. What did Alaya need other people for in the first place? Before¡­ before everything it has just been her and her parents. Since then it¡¯s just been her and Gaz.


    But she knocked anyway. Watching over a pair of cavorting rugrats would probably cure her foul mood.


    ¡°Come in.¡± Marcus¡¯s voice on the intercom beckoned her as the door opened.


    Incense, sandalwood and jasmine blossoms filled the air. Of all the systems Alaya had familiarized herself with over the years, odor production had been one she¡¯d skipped. Gaz could have gone on at length about how the whole thing functioned.


    It was pleasant enough, but Alaya preferred the purified air fresh out of a reproc. Or one of those water-air generators where what came out was elemental, free of any form of contamination. They made her sleepy.


    Oranges and browns dominated the Dhingri area of the ship. Soft fabrics appeared to drape the walls and faint chanting added itself to the fragrant atmosphere. All of it, even the color pallet, set Alaya¡¯s teeth on edge.


    Marcus sat in the center of the room, wearing a red-colored robe. He smiled up at Alaya beatifically. ¡°Good to see you, Alaya.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the fam, Marcus?¡±


    His smile widened into a cheek splitting grin. ¡°Beth and Tammy adore you.¡± The power in his smile lost a single watt. ¡°But you hardly come around. It¡¯s been¡­ days.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been feeling well.¡± Damn.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Marcus came to his feet with a move far too quick and smooth for someone with no cyberware in his legs or spine, ¡°then you came to see me?¡±


    Fuck no. I came here for some escapist cuteness therapy with a pair of kids who¡¯ve never snuffed a guy. Marcus had probably never killed anyone either. Not so sure about his wife, Yiska. Maybe she was wrong, but Alaya bet Yiska had killed at least one person in her life.


    Marcus took her silence as uncertainty. ¡°My door is always open. To everyone.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± It came off more hostile than she¡¯d intended.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard for some outsiders to accept, but my faith demands I serve those who need it most.¡±


    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you save more people on the station?¡± Alaya blurted out the words, not even aware of how deep her concerns ran herself, not until that moment. He just fucking nodded. Alaya had to clench her fists and press them against her sides to keep from punching the idiot, from leaping atop him and beating him until he shut up. ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°You feel guilty. I do too.¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He did understand. It hurt more than if he¡¯d assumed she was just uncomfortable with magic.


    ¡°And you are uncomfortable with magic.¡± Marcus said the words and echoed Alaya¡¯s thoughts exactly.


    She stepped away from him, eyes widening as she did. ¡°What¡­¡±


    ¡°I am not reading your mind. Daikinis, friendly spirits, whisper pieces of the future into my ear. They tell me what to say to keep you from running.¡±


    Alaya loathed the idea of anything knowing her future. All of them ended the same way. Who¡¯d want to know the details? Marcus didn¡¯t speak. ¡°What are they telling you now?¡±


    ¡°To listen.¡±


    What the fuck do I say to that? ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡± Marcus nodded, as if he agreed. But he didn¡¯t speak. ¡°Magic makes me uncomfortable.¡±


    He looked right at her chest. Not her breasts, not her collarbone, but straight at her heart. Where the dragon implant coiled and waited. No doubt in Alaya¡¯s mind. Marcus could see the mark upon her skin as surely as Alaya could feel its presence.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking.¡± He hadn¡¯t spoken, or given much up in terms of body language. But if he knew about the tattoo, his thoughts would be easy to guess. ¡°If I have such a mark, why distrust magic?¡±


    ¡°It sounds like trust is very important to you.¡±


    Why do I feel like I¡¯m talking to Nissa? Alaya narrowed her eyes. ¡°Like I said, I don¡¯t trust you.¡± Once again, he remained silent. ¡°This was a fucking waste of time.¡±


    She turned on her heel, anger building in her along with confusion and a haze from the drugs speeding her recovery along. With a flash, Marcus was next to her. This time she knew he hadn¡¯t moved with impossible cyborg speed, her digitals confirmed it. She¡¯d blacked out.


    A tiny tap of his hand. That was all. The contact was gentle and brief. It stilled Alaya¡¯s balance and cleared her head. I need to lay down and rest. She blinked at herself. It was the first reasonable thought she¡¯d had since she woke up: stay in bed. But she couldn¡¯t help but turn back to Marcus. ¡°Why?¡±


    He smiled and raised his shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s what you needed and the Daikinis wanted. Consider it a gift.¡±


    Stumbling away, Alaya floated along on clouds of heavy gases back to her quarters. She hardly recalled laying down, she didn¡¯t remove her dock clothes. The one¡¯s she¡¯d been wearing nonstop for the last week.

 Chapter 12 - Gaz

    According to the official report, Gaz and Alaya¡¯s actions cost the lives of 1.3 million people aboard Bahl-Mau station IV. They¡¯d dubbed it the Bahl-Mau disaster. If there was good news regarding the event, it was that neither Gaz nor Alaya¡¯s account numbers, face, or IDs were public.


    Gaz was no fool. And this wasn¡¯t her first or hundredth brush with the law. If not for the fact their quarry was already headed to one of the Boho clusters, she would have suggested it to Alaya. Few places in the system offered better cover than a cluster. Unlike a station, who had a boss and a corp or Loop nation watching over them, clusters were self-governed. Each captain of a ship ran her ship. If it was colony vessel captain might be elected, ship might self-govern or report to another ship¡¯s captain. Alliances were complicated and varied.


    Where the stations and the rock-colonists saw poverty, the clusters were more than happy to maintain the illusion. Truth was something else, Gaz bet. There was nothing stopping a cluster group from building a factory in zero-G and producing nano processors or cyberware. Some of the best off main stuff she¡¯d found was purported to come from a cluster.


    Best of all, it was pretty unlikely Gaz would accidentally get more than one or two ships worth of people killed. Who would have thought binding herself to a child and protecting said child would result in her needing to kill far more people in the last five years than in the previous centuries?


    The door to the conn popped open and Gaz fell back against the now dark control console. ¡°Oh no, we¡¯ve been boarded!¡±


    Two little girls wearing material printer cast-offs: support material, long, stringy bits of plastic and metal, and panels from the sides of boxes charged into the room with makeshift cutlases in hand. Good thing Yiska had them wait to do this until Alaya was asleep. Gaz set a reminder to mention casually to Marcus in front of Yiska about how Alaya¡¯s parents were killed by pirates.


    Fifty percent were killed by me. I should probably not tell her that.


    With that guilt weighing her down suddenly, Gaz found herself glued to her seat while the two youngsters wrapped her up in thermal foil. Yiska arrived and barked at them playfully about harassing the pilot while she worked. But Gaz and the two girls parted ways giggling.


    Yiska frowned as she unwrapped Gaz. ¡°You cover it well, but something about that troubled you deeply, did it not?¡±


    If she was going to give her such a convenient opening. ¡°Please refrain from pretend piracy around Alaya. She lost her parents to pirates when she was Beth¡¯s age.¡±


    Yiska wasn¡¯t shocked by the information, as if she¡¯d heard far, far worse over her life. ¡°Thanks for letting us know. The girls¡¯ll understand. What about you? Whatever was going on there looked personal.¡±


    How did she know? Gaz took a breath and waited, giving the air a chance to circulate through her lungs. ¡°Alaya is very dear to me. Many of the things which hurt her also hurt me.¡± It was the truth dyed and twisted into a slightly different shape. Still the truth, but intended to give a different impression.


    ¡°I see.¡± It had been a week and the matron of the Dhingri clan had hardly addressed Gaz or Alaya outside of thanking them for the rescue. But here she said, ¡°Isham tells me it was you who decided to let us into the ship.¡±


    Isham should shut his¡­ Or was he helping? ¡°It was.¡±


    ¡°Then I owe you everything. You ask my family not play pirates in front of your beloved, they will stop playing pirates.¡± Yiska¡¯s words trailed off, as if to suggest Gaz could ask for either or both of her daughters¡¯ still beating hearts. The mother might offer them. It might have chilled Gaz if not for the alarms ringing in her head about the term Yiska applied to Alaya. The term Gaz had not denied. She opened her mouth and Yiska shook her head. ¡°I do not have your senses or your experience. But please do not deny it. The facts are obvious. I would not betray you by sharing my knowledge with others.¡±


    At that moment, Tammy and Beth roared back into the conn, their costumes trailing a mess of plastic and metal behind. Tammy chased her sister, who screamed with the shrill piercing squeak only kids could manage and reached her mother. True to her word, Yiska led her brood away, already suggesting new costumes for them that had nothing to do with piracy. Both girls came through shortly thereafter in their normal clothes to clean up their mess.


    Riggon Cluster was close enough to view through main-spectrum optics, without magnification. When the kids were gone, Gaz sealed up the conn and switched the projections to bubble mode. Technically none of the manual systems in the ship were necessary. History, accessible from her local net, informed her of the odd human insistence on manual override for AI systems. Rarely necessary and then rarely helpful, manual controls were a relic of human fear and superstition. So she sealed those controls away and stood with her hands behind her back, feet shoulder width apart as the ship vanished around her.


    Gaz stood as if floating in space, hovering on an empty platform headed toward a bristling tangled mass of exposed wiring, poorly assembled cyberware, and bits of spinning metal bones. She laughed at the metaphors conjured by the appearance of Riggon¡¯s cluster: a mobile amoeba of ships, construction, and tube-ways. Below the solar plane grew a mass of vegetation, clumped there and visibly expanding even from this scale, the vegetation had direct access to unobstructed solar light off of the plane of rotation. The food here¡­ her coprocessors finished some initial calculations and tendered their reports. Gaz laughed at herself. The food here would be identical with the food everywhere else, unless she found it cooked by a vendor. Those trees and plants growing out there in the middle of the void were further away from the main cluster than Gaz presently was. Unless someone had setup teleportation networks ¡ª expensive and unlikely ¡ª then the produce from those plants probably didn¡¯t make it out of their local branches, aside from exotics which would be expensive.


    The rest of the cluster was metal and really did resemble something like Gaz¡¯s own body. Unlike other cyborgs most of her systems were fluid. Aside from regular structures she maintained such as her lungs, nanoswarm hives, and her drone modules, she kept her body adaptive. What passed for kidneys might be hanging out in her skull, or transiting from her leg to her chest. Or melting into a different organ entirely. The organic flesh of her brain and the cyberware augments which comprised her cyberbrain were the only things strictly forbidden from dissolving into the rest of her. Thus, when viewed from a powerful enough scanner, Gaz would have resembled Riggon¡¯s Cluster.


    She shook herself, the internal focus probably the result of her guilt. Riggon¡¯s Cluster promised freedom and an end to Alaya¡¯s quest. There was another source of Gaz¡¯s anxiety, something which her cyberware immediately set about chemically resolving. But as the emotion associated with her thoughts faded, the fact remained. When Alaya caught up with Kowal, he would tell her everything. His only chance was death. Gaz wouldn¡¯t let anything bad happen to Alaya. Therefore Gaz¡¯s only chance to keep what she¡¯d done secret from Alaya was to kill Kowal herself. Then kill Mateos and then Mal himself. She¡¯d have to burn the whole pirate empire down.


    One step at a time. Riggon cluster was a million times larger than Bahl-Mau. Larger, but far less massive than any Loop corp or Loop nation with an energy budget she guessed lower than a tenth the size of the smallest corp.


    With those details in mind, Gaz had trouble fathoming how people could live out here. Recycling being what it was, and the availability of classical energy systems out here might make subsistence feasible, but industry? How did anyone have time for anything but drudgery? Their lives were likely as menial as the lowest had been aboard the Bahl-Mau.


    Coprocessors shifted over to the local bands, Gaz discovered an open infoNet in the sector. It bore a Riggon origin signal so she opened it on a segregated computer system in case it tried to upload a virus or their ship tried to send a sneaky distress signal or theft alert.


    Seconds after downloading and analyzing the contents of the infoNet broadcast, Gaz shook her head. Their ship was armed and able to defend itself. But according to the infoNet broadcast, no one would be locking down their weapons. At the same discharge of weapons within half an AU of the signal origin would result in all local ships receiving firing clearance for the offender¡¯s vessel and a rep bounty being placed on them.


    ¡°In other words: ¡°disable your shipboard weapons before you approach. Mistakes mean we erase your ship.¡± Check.¡± Gaz entered a command sequence verbally, conveying the restriction to their AI and adding a burnable 10-second delay charge on their weapons. Even the AI would have to wait to fire once those locks were in place.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    There was also a note about ships under a certain tonnage, which unless occupied, could be legally claimed by anyone as valid salvage. The warning strongly recommended homesteading any such small vessels if they were the only ship visitors owned.


    Visitors. How many people decided to vacation in a cluster? Easily the most dangerous part of the solar system. Or maybe Gaz had it wrong. What she knew she¡¯d learned at the feet of corporations heavily invested in the Loop and Credit system. There was always the chance these people had it figured out. Only one way to know, and that was to check herself.


    While the ship was defanged, Gaz would fly into the cluster armed.


    Alaya slept and didn¡¯t talk to Gaz much when she was awake for the rest of their course into the cluster. That infoNet beacon also provided a set of coordinates for high rep docking ships or even stations known for treating visitors well. It would have been nice to head for one of those. But Kowal and their ship laid a trajectory into the deeper part of the cluster, just at the edge of the solar plane where the mass of vegetation bloomed out into the void.


    Where do they get the water?


    More and more time passed each day alone as Gaz stood and flew between the ships of the cluster. Beacons on and broadcasting, no one stopped them and challenged their obviously stolen and hacked vessel.


    Above their own ship, larger than them by at least five times, a flotilla of small one-person ships trundled by. The way they moved and their placement had at first convinced Gaz and their ship AI this was nothing more than a swarm of small void ships. But as they watched them float by, there was a repetition to the movement of those smaller ships, a hard limit to how far they strayed. Recalculations complete, Gaz called up the AI¡¯s guess about the ¡°flotilla.¡± It was a massive floating creature, the way it moved suggested an eel or serpent rather than a cetacean. But none of their sensors picked it up. Only extrapolation showed them the outline of the serpent. The infoNet broadcast had been less specific on swallowing up other vessels.


    Factory ships floated into view, large open magnetic rings pulled in material fed from the edges and used massive reactors, boilers, and fabricators to recycle and generate product. Barrels upon barrels of unidentified goods shot out of the opposite end of the large wheeled factory ship and propelled themselves on their own target vectors.


    Ships circled the factories, pulling barrels out of their ostensible trajectories. Sometimes they shot the barrel back into the recycler, mostly they fired it back into its original trajectory. Gaz stared up at the interplay, amazed. Again, it reminded her of her own body as she stared. Strange to think.


    The pirates used a much more energy-intensive process for the small amount of fabrication they performed. And the trends within the inner belt tended toward small scale distributed factories with either the process or the schematic protected by the corps and licensed for profit. An expensive schem might cut power costs in half and might produce a blazing piece of proprietary tech. But then only once before the schem burned itself out.


    Gaz bet all of Alaya¡¯s debt this place used pirate schems and paid no one for them. Back in the inner ring MilCas would have blown this place out of the void after a perfunctory hearing. Dozens of other ships, from frigate class to larger explorer class vessels with a few void colony ships thrown in, flew by Gaz¡¯s own ship with a ping and a clear path for themselves. MilCas would have trouble simply bombarding such a mass of vessels. The sheer variety impressed. Delicate, streamlined Venetian fliers ¡ª a squadron of them ¡ª flew maneuvers gracefully by Gaz¡¯s ship as if to welcome them to the cluster.


    Someone had cobbled together an old Martian military cruiser with a brand new Earth force military ship. In a way it was almost sad how far humanity¡¯s cradle had fallen. Four hundred years of development separated the Martian ship from the Earth ship. And even from here Gaz could tell the red-tinted Martian armor was superior to the Earth hull¡¯s. The engines on the Earth ship were far under-utilized. At least for the purpose of driving that weird conglomeration. Even with the added mass of the Martian ship. But scans showed the ship¡¯s drive at full 80% power. Either they were doing some serious energy-intensive work aboard that ship or they were broadcasting their power elsewhere.


    A knock sounded on the conn door. Gaz considered ignoring it. Though engrossed in the view, she¡¯d left a processor watching cams and security. She¡¯d known Marcus was there before he knocked. Had seen him take a deep breath and smooth his orange robes before he knocked. Knocking made him nervous. Why? Gaz could not fathom what made the man nervous.


    Curiosity ¡ª a force more potent than her drive to solitude ¡ª demanded she open the door. ¡°Marcus, how can I help you?¡±


    Her voice originated from the speaker at the door.


    ¡°Ah.¡± His voice faded for a second as he wistfully stared into the void. ¡°Would I um, be imposing if I asked to view the cluster?¡±


    ¡°Are you asking me to leave?¡±


    He chuckled nervously and shook his head. ¡°Oh no. No no. Please, I just wish to view the One Root from well, from here would be more than adequate.¡±


    ¡°The One Root?¡±


    Marcus took a step up the stairs and pointed toward the bottom of the view. ¡°The great mass of flora. Some also call it the First Root.¡±


    ¡°I had wondered about it. Please come in.¡± Gaz considered the mass of trees and the old man. ¡°Will you tell me about the One Root?¡±


    ¡°Little would please me more.¡± He smiled and nodded, his mannerisms at once relaxed the moment he stepped into the circle next to Gaz, though he stood as far from her as he could without bumping into the walls. ¡°What do you know of the old Earth religions?¡±


    ¡°Meaningless superstitions employed as pacification and control systems before neural locks and ego-viruses came into popularity.¡±


    ¡°An answer worthy of a college exam.¡± Marcus stared down at the One Root. ¡°But did you know, as the science of Theurgy progressed, the Gods of old Earth began to answer prayers?¡±


    ¡°More or less, I suppose.¡± Outsiders knew little of the ways of Theurgy. The same with the Arcane sciences. ¡°I thought any god, even made up ones answered prayers.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, after a fashion I suppose. I won¡¯t bore you with the details of theurgy, just a legend then¡­.


    ¡°Millennia before the first implant, before the first human set foot upon the surface of the moon, religion had marked vegetation as significant. Makes sense, of course. Trees bore fruit, fruit was the difference between life and death. Some fruits preserved life, others ended it. A few major faiths placed trees as significant in their rituals and some marked them as harbingers of the fall. The parallels go on and on. Even into the age of enlightenment, after the death of faith was proclaimed, and science deemed the victor, flora held a special place in human minds.


    ¡°I say all of this to make the background clear. When the first theurges whispered the first prayers, the Gods answered in one voice. Plant the root, tend the root, spread the root. Everyone fought over the metaphor and when the divine science finally completed its apotheosis the Gods refused to comment on their first proclamation.


    ¡°Centuries passed and humanity continued to mistake the Gods¡¯ initial meaning.¡± He tapped his finger toward the One Root and it magnified and closed with him. ¡°Nearly all of us believe this is what the Gods meant. This is what will save humanity.¡±


    ¡°You believe it too?¡±


    Marcus raised his hands. ¡°Once we planted the first seeds, the Gods announced their approval. The daikinis are adamant. The Root must grow and spread.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing more than a simple series of plants. Food, water, medicine, and finally air. Packaged up with nanostructures linked on every codon. The DNA strands bear homilies to every God whose name we know. Provided energy either by way of sunlight or even a heat differential three degrees above the zero, the plants will grow. Their only purpose is to feed and house life. They should adapt over time the way some cyborgs do.¡±


    Gaz walked a suddenly narrow path. She resisted the urge to lock her reactions down, it was apparently a dead giveaway. So she tried cycling her breathing, heartbeat, all autonomic functions to use the same rhythm as they¡¯d been using seconds before. Hard to tell if she was successful. But now that she¡¯d had the experience, she added a subroutine to run those systems on repeat. It should help. ¡°To what end?¡±


    ¡°Think about the void.¡± Marcus stepped back from the plants and they shrank back into their place among the distant pieces of cluster. ¡°About how unimaginably large it is. Space is a desert, with the most concentrated oases sprinkled within imaginable reality¡± Where had Gaz heard that before? Normally her mnemonic recall would be near-perfect. But something was missing.


    Alarms went off internally as Gaz performed a systems check.


    Marcus continued. ¡°With the One Root as the seed, humanity will soon have access to a system-spanning network for travel, all of the food and water they need, and medicine to treat any ailment. The plants themselves identify pathogens and develop not just their own antibodies, but they fortify the food they produce with bioavailable antigens.¡±


    It sounded lovely to Gaz. A strange counterpoint to a solid half of her mental processes experiencing a panic. Memory addresses, hard coded into both her flesh and her cyberneural interface had gone missing. No signs of intrusion, no indication of a local virus, but something had erased a small sector of Gaz¡¯s memory. Tiny bits, fragments of moments spread through her life. It amounted to less than ten seconds of her three centuries.


    But it had never happened before.


    Gaz recorded and reviewed his words as she ran a full system analysis. ¡°Most theurgists respect the work of the Root or simply do not interfere. A great many of us support it. And a tiny minority oppose.¡± He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s perhaps the most unified project the theurgists have ever engaged in short of the discovery of the divine science itself.¡±


    Then he fell silent. His mood, joyful and contemplative, might have infected others. But Gaz had reached full panic mode.


    Not only had she lost memories, her own scans showed her body and mind as fine. Undamaged, no foreign infections, no intrusions. Just a mental gap. ¡°Marcus, please feel free to remain at the conn. I need to check on a personal matter. Excuse me.¡±


    She mentally sent instructions to the ship not to change course unless their target did and to plot a follow trajectory and warn her of any deviations or intercept vessels. The moment the door to the conn shut, Gaz sprinted with all of the speed her chassis could muster to the medical exam room. Cyborgs of her class simply did not forget anything.


    Something was wrong.

 Chapter 13 - Alaya

    Nighttime aboard ship differed in subtle ways from daytime. As the captain, Alaya had set the lights to dim and reduced the gravity by .5%. Most spacers slept better in low grav, but dropping things too low could injure people. Finally, she dropped the temperature down from 24 to 21. On the whole, the changes meant anyone could tell what time it was supposed to be by stepping out of their quarters, or from their quarters if they chose to have those changes extend within.


    In Alaya¡¯s case, she generally kept the temps low, but the gravity drop was a pleasant relief. Funny how such a small variation could relax her whole body.


    Fewer red messages scrolled through her vision now. Though fewer emergency alerts about her cranial matter flashed, some of the now-yellow alerts concerned her. Transplantation, surgery, or magical treatment had to happen. Sooner rather than later. But she was stable for now and just needed to stay out of any fights.


    Easy peasy.


    The ship¡¯s medical had even cleared her to work today, which was perfect.


    McRory ¡ª technically Gaz ¡ª had smashed Vora to bits. Small enough pieces Alaya couldn¡¯t find everything she needed. But she¡¯d seen the reports about the massive floating ring factories. About the odd rep system the clusters used. Her implants had already set about downloading the ship AI¡¯s and Gaz¡¯s reports.


    Marcus had an interest in the One Root. Magic was stupid, amazing, and treacherous. But the theurge had personally gone a long way toward helping Alaya. Saving her brain, really. Most of the red alerts still flashing by indicated progressive failures in her chrome. That stuff could be replaced far more easily than the rest.


    With the parts she needed in hand and a chance to configure them into McRory, Alaya had a way to join the group even if she wasn¡¯t currently allowed in the field. They really needed a cybertechnician other than her in their little group. In my ¡°Empire.¡± Hard to forget this whole thing was happening because Alaya was heir to a debt she¡¯d had no hand in earning.


    Best thing about the cluster was that not one of them would care.


    ¡°Hey Kirk. How¡¯s things?¡±


    She could feel him spooling up code through the ship. Access to the ship computers and AI had been good for him. But it was hard for her to pinpoint what he was doing even now. A tiny streak of nervousness ran through her. Then he answered. ¡°I¡¯m pretty good actually. And I noticed you were given a provisional clean bill of health.¡±


    ¡°Reading my medicals then? That took longer than I expected.¡± She was just ribbing him, but Kirk made a decent come back.


    ¡°The time delay came from checking to make sure you hadn¡¯t faked those records in case I had to tell on you.¡±


    ¡°Ow.¡± She held her hand to chest. ¡°You wound me.¡±


    ¡°I know you well enough, even before I knew the rest.¡±


    ¡°The rest¡± amounted to little enough. Gaz and Alaya had spun legend Beta around themselves. Partial truth, but not enough to lead anywhere important. Alaya owed a lot of money to some bad people. She had to get out, Gaz was helping her because they were friends. The bad person they were following killed Alaya¡¯s parents, but didn¡¯t have anything do with the debt. Truer than their Alpha covers, but still not the whole deal.


    Very few people knew the whole truth. Janice. She hadn¡¯t made contact in days, but she had to know about Bahl-Mau. As Alaya might have guessed, getting a station nuked was too toxic even for one of the Loop gentry like Janice. It was better to have that bridge burned now than find out later. That¡¯s what Alaya told herself as she buckled down to her workstation.


    ¡°Whatcha doin¡¯ ¡®Laya?¡± A mobile drone cam attached to the ship hovered over Alaya.


    ¡°Working on a bit of chrome for you. Maybe for both of us at this rate.¡±


    ¡°Worry about yourself bud. I like living here in the ship. Super safe here.¡±


    ¡°That quartz jar is probably one of the toughest things around, outside the hull or engine shielding.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Kirk chuckled with a digital tone. ¡°You can¡¯t leave and I can¡¯t leave. But we can use these sweet little drones to accompany Gaz and Marcus.¡±


    ¡°Marcus is going with her?¡±


    The drone bobbed. ¡°You talked to Gaz since you woke up?¡±


    Ugh. It was a testament to the poor state of Alaya¡¯s mind that she hadn¡¯t realized the ping she¡¯d sent to Gaz upon waking hadn¡¯t been answered yet. ¡°Gaz?¡± She reached out on a private channel.


    ¡°Oh sorry, Alaya, I was engrossed in a full cycle project.¡± Gaz¡¯s voice worked faster and more effectively than the neurochems now floating around in Alaya¡¯s bloodstream struggling to calm her down.


    Curiosity rose in her, but she held it back. When Gaz was ready to share whatever project she was working on, she would. ¡°Can Kirk and I come with you and Marcus piloting drones?¡±


    Another pause. ¡°Of course. You¡¯re cleared for work, just not for leaving the ship or combat.¡±


    ¡°Thanks Gaz.¡± Alaya hesitated. Pausing, not answering her wake-up ping. This was very un-Gaz-like things. ¡°Everything okay with you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And no. Riggon¡¯s Cluster is massive and far more dangerous than the station. The monetary system leaves a little to be desired¡­¡± Sarcasm leaked from Gaz¡¯s tone. ¡°And we¡¯re tailing someone else flying our ship.¡±


    Weird feeling there, the sense Gaz had changed what she¡¯d originally planned to say and inserted something else. Alaya decided she was imagining things and moved on.¡°Well, it could be worse. At least here my little curse won¡¯t mean as much.¡±


    Gaz acknowledged her and returned to prepping their departure.


    There was a chance Kowal knew they were tailing him and might jump ship the moment they landed. Or he might have already disembarked and wandered off to his destination. Alaya could care less about her flagship. She cared about catching Kowal. She really hoped he left the ship. Otherwise they were playing chicken in void ships. Someone was going to die if that went down. In that event, either the dead person was Alaya or she had to sift through the wreckage looking for Kowal¡¯s cryberbrain and hope it had the information she needed on it.


    Chatting with Kirk gave Alaya a sense of peace. The two worked side by side, more or less, fixing drones, checking them to make sure they¡¯d last the whole, and enabling any surprises they might want if a fight did break out. Combat drones, the good ones, were hard enough to come by. What Alaya had in stock gave her a few options for anti-personnel fire, but no options for anti-ship or anti-material. McRory¡¯s weapons wouldn¡¯t fit on a flier. For one of their bigger drones, McRory¡¯s weapons were options. And once they¡¯d exhausted the choices for their normal weapons, Kirk and Alaya worked on a mount for the railgun system McRory¡¯s body had attached to it. More or less attached.


    They finished the last few touches on an experimental mount and about an hour later, Gaz sent out the landing count down. Kirk and Alaya cleaned up the area, stowed everything and tied it down. Then Alaya headed off to the conn to see Gaz before she left.


    When she reached it, she found Marcus and Gaz leaning next to each other in conference. They stood in the middle of a broadcast simulation depicting the area of space around them. The screen closest to them showed Alaya¡¯s flagship already landed on a broad wooden platform made from thousands of woven stalks. Kowal stood on the wooden platform next to a man in a saffron colored robe, with a bald head. Even from this distance, Alaya could feel the malevolence seeping out of Kowal. The bald headed man bobbed his head, their resolution was good enough to catch the smile cross his face as he turned and led Kowal into a cave in the side of the greenery which sealed up behind them as they disappeared. Leaves spread out from the surrounding canopy and covered Alaya¡¯s flagship in vines and more stems.


    A gasp escaped her lips as the woven wooden platform returned, presumably awaiting their landing.


    Gaz and Marcus both turned, as if surprised to find Alaya standing there. Gaz at least was sure to have had a coproc notify her of Alaya¡¯s approach, so there was no way she was surprised. As for Marcus, Alaya didn¡¯t know. As suspicious as their appearance was, Alaya ignored it. Marcus had helped speed her recovery and Gaz¡­ Alaya had known Gaz over half her life and there was no one in the verse she trusted more.


    ¡°It looks like our target was just eaten by the trees.¡± Alaya pointed to the screen, trying to lighten the mood. Maybe if she said it like this she¡¯d feel a little bit better. ¡°If we ask nicely do you think they¡¯d let us have him?¡±


    Marcus shook his head and Gaz bounced her eyebrows up as if it was an idea worth considering. Since Alaya had woken up this last time, Gaz had been weird. She was weird now too. Only after the awkward greeting did Gaz run up to Alaya and hug her, something she would have done immediately before. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the oddness. At least her arms were warm and her hug strong. Alaya got her little island of stability and certainty out of it.


    ¡°ETA twenty minutes.¡± Gaz nodded toward the display. ¡°Might as well land and see what the tree people want.¡±


    Marcus snickered and Gaz rolled her eyes. A private joke of some kind. Alaya stomped on the displaced jealousy. ¡°As long as Kirk and I can tag along as drones.¡±


    Both Marcus and Gaz nodded. I wasn¡¯t really asking for your permission, Marcus. Alaya just kept her smile up and tried to remind herself it was really Gaz acting odd and not Marcus. Still, hard not to take it out on him.


    Alaya insisted she and Kirk pilot their drones from the loading ramp. It was also the fastest way in or out of the ship if they needed to escape or if they needed to lay down suppressing fire. Gaz was quick to relent, as long as the deal continued to mandate Alaya stay in the ship. The specter of Gaz¡¯s weird behavior stalked the two of them for the whole rest of the prep, up to the ship¡¯s actual landing.


    This hug, their parting hug, was a brief denial of all the weirdness. For a glorious lingering space and time, Alaya held Gaz and Gaz held her. Alaya could almost pretend Gaz didn¡¯t just love her like a kid sister or bff, but more. Moments like this, Alaya could pretend this was their normal, the next thing to happen would be a kiss.


    Everything lurched back to formal as Alaya let out a long breath when Gaz walked away. Kirks drone had all of its sensors pointed at Alaya and his voice reached her over the short band. ¡°You have it real bad.¡±


    ¡°Shut up Kirk.¡± Alaya¡¯s drone flew after Gaz. She¡¯d gutted the normal weapon platforms on this particular drone. It had the equivalent of a low power pulse weapon attached, something that might blind or stun a target, but was intended for hostile nanoswarms and other soft targets, such as literal soft human tissues. But only up close and personal. The real payload inside this drone was the hive and control bypass. For a normal operator, controlling a swarm could overwhelm. But Alaya¡¯s implant and a few other specialized cybernetics could offload those controls and ease the strain on her cognition. In other words her drone was packed full of sensory gear and a whole host of micro and nano drones who could be turned to a whole variety of purposes. Including offense and defense.


    Kirk¡¯s drone was a zippy little speedster he¡¯d tweaked himself, with only consultation from Alaya.Lightweight, but surprisingly tough, the drone was mostly suspensor generators, sensors, and light weapons platforms.


    Kinetic recoil was a real problem on suspensor-mounted drone platforms. Kirk¡¯s solution was a rather elegant and low-weight series of small scale blast engines. He¡¯d stripped them off of a few spare rockets from the mech-weapon Gaz retrieved. They fired to counter-act the weapon recoil and during their testing, the speedy little drone made for one of the most stable weapons platforms Alaya had personally worked with. As good as something purpose fabbed. Kirk had beamed when she told him that. He painted the thing pink and blue with a white racing strip. Alaya¡¯s was dark blue and purple with a few darker shades to disrupt the lines and make the eye slide off of the drone¡¯s carapace.


    It might have been pride, but Alaya¡¯s drone would have murdered Kirk¡¯s in the dark. Not because of the stealth, but because those drone hives included repair and ablative systems. He wouldn¡¯t be able to touch her while the rest of the drones either melted his or just took it over.


    Their group reached the bottom of their exit ramp and a bald woman wearing saffron robes greeted them, starting with Marcus.


    ¡°Honored Pilgrim. You travel with eccentric company.¡±


    Alaya noted Marcus¡¯s wife and kids were back in the ship¡¯s quarter¡¯s still. He bowed back to the woman and said, ¡°I have been meaning to make the journey for many years. Fate intervened and with wroth I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°It grieves me to hear that, I hope your personal suffering was minimal, brother.¡± She turned to Gaz. ¡°Honored guest. Your name is Gaz?¡± she¡¯d either received her introduction packet or a system had translated it for her.


    ¡°I am. It is a pleasure to meet you¡­¡±


    ¡°Ester. Please call me Ester.¡±


    Enough sensors loaded up on her drone to map a new planet and Alaya could not detect a single cyber modification on Ester. Same as with Gaz and Marcus, of course. But Alaya had thought the latter quirky for not choosing cybermodification. Not that this was some kind of religious injunction.


    ¡°And your other companions?¡± Ester looked right into the opticals on Alaya¡¯s drone.


    ¡°I¡¯m Alaya.¡± It was weird to question drones. And it was sheer happenstance both drones even possessed speakers. Sensor packages just tended to include them and pulling them out was more of hassle than it was worth.


    ¡°Kirk.¡±


    ¡°Do not feel ashamed or burdensome. Many injured and ill come to seek our aid in many forms.¡± She split her attention between the drones. ¡°Our surgeons are solar-rated and though many faithful abjure cyberization for personal reasons, many more embrace the technology as one of the great paths forward for all humanity.¡± She looked at Kirk. ¡°And it simply the case that some conditions may only be treated with extensive cyber-reconstruction.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here for the guy you just let in.¡± As generous and tempting as her offer sounded Alaya was here for one reason. Besides, Ester didn¡¯t mention price. Which meant Alaya and her team couldn¡¯t afford it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but we do not share information about guests without permission. Would you like me to query our other guest to see if they would care to speak with you?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Alaya spat the answer out the moment she had a pause.


    ¡°Mmm, then I am afraid I cannot help you.¡±


    ¡°What about my ship¡­¡±


    Alaya¡¯s question was cut off by Gaz, over shortband. ¡°Now¡¯s probably not the time.¡±


    ¡°Your ship will be placed in the holding area. The others aboard are welcome to disembark at any time.¡± Ester swept her hand toward the forest wall, the same direction Kowal had gone. ¡°If you will follow me?¡± I¡¯ve arranged to have our infoNet profile shared with each of you.¡±


    Information flooded over her coprocessors, already hitting peak use from drone control. Alaya shifted the job of reading and assimilating the information to a low priority system and followed Ester into the darkened wood.


    The moment the leaves closed behind them little bulbs shaped like inverted flowers lit. They kept the relative light level the same as it had been outside. A quick review of her recorded data showed Alaya how the platform had been carefully lit by indirect flowers the whole time. Clever and tasteful.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Having grown up in rotational gravity and spent more time in artificial than on a rock, Alaya had no trouble adjusting to the way the orientation of down followed the wooden platform they floated over. Artificial separation created by the drone controls and limiters Alaya herself had set in the drones would have kept her from getting disoriented.


    Leaves formed the walls, most of them felt incredibly soft to the touch and shook lightly when Alaya¡¯s probes stroked them. No one rebuked her, so she recorded that sensation and beamed it directly back to her body.


    ¡°Have you come to view the Work, Pilgrim?¡± Ester did not turn back as she posed her question.


    ¡°If I may, I would be honored.¡±


    She nodded her head without changing pace or so much as flicking back toward the others. ¡°Of course. We will arrange accommodations for those of you who care to stay within the Root.¡± Turning abruptly, Ester stopped when a set of leaves parted for them. ¡°I hope the room pleases you. The Root responds to intentions and should lead you where you need to go. Should those of you aboard your ship wish to join the others or partake of our amenities.¡±


    Gaz and Marcus had stopped in front of a massive room, larger than any kind of living quarters Alaya had ever seen in her life. Comparable only to large public spaces, the moldering islands from her youth aboard a cylinder, those were bigger than this. But not by a meaningful degree. A great sphere opened before them. Furniture, all of it wooden and seemingly grown out of the surface of the walls or floor covered the area. Spindly vines and branches rose up, wrapped in leaves Alaya guessed would close to offer residents privacy and partition the space. Nothing but the very center of the room was ¡°wasted¡± in terms of space, but only advanced artificial gravity would provide livable room in a sphere like this.


    Gaz hopped in and ascended to what appeared to be a floor level up, directly next to the entrance. She tilted her head. ¡°It¡¯s not as strange as I would have thought.¡±


    Ester smiled, pleased at Gaz¡¯s assessment. ¡°Our aim is to make the rooms as comfortable as possible. The Pilgrim¡¯s family will stay in nearby apartments?¡±


    Marcus looked between Gaz and the saffron-robed guide. ¡°That sounds good. They¡¯re safe here?¡±


    Ester bowed her head. ¡°In the name of the Powers and the Word, no harm shall befall them, even as repayment for debt or as a result of uncivil conduct.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m satisfied.¡± Marcus folded his arms. He used the private channel, ¡°Alaya?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let Yiska and the girls know.¡± Back out loud Alaya said, ¡°and the rest of us?¡±


    ¡°As long as you bring no violent reprisals upon the Root and do not attempt to directly or indirectly harm the Root, we shall happily shelter you here.¡±


    ¡°The same way you¡¯re harboring a pirate?¡± Alaya couldn¡¯t help it.


    ¡°Your anger is a palpable thing. And perhaps even merited. But we do not interfere with temporal matters here. As long as the Root remains safe, we remain neutral. And all of our efforts coalesce around trying to keep the Root safe.¡±


    It was just an excuse. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault murders used my taxi, my gun, my hospital. I serve all people equally.¡± Alaya wanted to punch people like that. No one thought murders deserved the same rights as everyone else. But no one was wiling to be the person who pulled the trigger.


    ¡°Thank you, Ester. I will talk to my companions for now. Is there perhaps food?¡± Gaz knew the way around Alaya¡¯s moods and piques. And she could obviously tell Alaya had more coming in terms of sharing her opinions.


    Ester turned and bowed as she stood next to Marcus. ¡°Please consider our cybersurgical offerings. Few other vendors are as willing to work with zero-reputation visitors and our services are truly top class.¡±


    With that she turned and led Marcus down the hallway to another set of leaf doors. Alaya marked the place they vanished and then passed through the entrance to their rooms. A brief moment of reorientation and Alaya gained a newfound appreciation for the size of the room.


    Branches and vines twisted up next to her and Alaya took a step back. After a second they solidified and stilled, forming a pedestal in the center of the room. The voice which spoke from the pedestal was soft and inviting. ¡°We are the Root. We offer our services. Many bed and furniture configurations are available. If you have a schematic, we are capable of decoding most modern data formats.¡±


    Alaya¡¯s drone shifted to Gaz and back. ¡°We need at least three beds, right?¡± There were times when Alaya and Gaz would have shared a bed, out of necessity or because Alaya craved another¡¯s contact and would struggle to sleep without. But Kirk was here as a perfect third wheel. An ancient and tenacious metaphor, ironic since a third wheel would provide stability.


    ¡°A kitchen and a workspace.¡± Gaz offered her suggestions.


    ¡°Sim room, work shop, and cybersurgical facilities.¡± The last had been something of a lark, but the wood formed a complex bed, operating shelves, and what appeared to be digital link connections for working with nano surgical tools and other systems. The work shop was even more impressive. Kirk¡¯s bot whistled as he hovered over to it.


    ¡°I want to ask them for a body. Can I bring myself in here?¡±


    Gaz met Alaya¡¯s optics. It was her permission to give or deny. She¡¯d gone and made Kirk forsake his body in the first place. And he needed someone with resources and skill to help him anyway. But Alaya didn¡¯t want to give them leverage agains them. Now was not the time to just agree to their requests.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hold off until we¡¯re sure about these people. We¡¯ve met one and she¡¯s got to be on her best behavior.¡± Alaya scanned the room, it probably smelled incredible considering what her chem probes detected. ¡°This place is nice. But let¡¯s just give it a little time and see what they want from us.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t say they wanted anything.¡±


    Now this was what Alaya had expected when she invited Kirk along. He was a dock drudge and kept man almost from birth. Even through he¡¯d been neck deep in the gangs since infancy, he¡¯d never played the game the way Gaz and Alaya had. Even Gaz was shaking her head at Kirk¡¯s naivety. Alaya said, ¡°depends on how they work. But you heard the rep thing she mentioned. It¡¯s what passes for currency around here. No chance the keepers of the Root or whatever are going to give us anything they don¡¯t have endless supplies of without paying.¡±


    Based on their rooms, the Root clerics had endless space within the confines of their massive construction. What did they lack? What could they possibly want from Alaya and her friends? Gaz was valuable, so was Alaya¡¯s implant ¡ª sort of ¡ª Kirk was the only one of them who, though talented, did not possess anything of worth. He didn¡¯t even have a body of his own right then.


    Maybe stopping him from getting something new is the wrong move. We should at least sleep on it. It wasn¡¯t like Alaya was gatekeeping Kirk¡¯s body out of jealousy or some self-serving motive. She wanted to make sure these Root people really weren¡¯t monsters. Letting someone perform surgery on one¡¯s brain required trust. Alaya trusted Gaz, who¡¯d performed or observed all of Alaya¡¯s installations.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying on the ship tonight.¡± Alaya made the pronouncement.


    Kirk¡¯s sleek little drone bobbed and settled on the pedestal. ¡°Really only need one bed then.¡±


    Alaya snapped away from the drone, unhappy with their introduction to the Root. Calling up the ship optics, she found nothing but foliage and branches barring her way. They were enclosed in a tree room just large enough for their ship. No way to look out and no way to leave, not without clearance from the Root.


    At least they were safe. Unless the threat came from the root itself. Not exactly comforting. Rather than waste her time here, Alaya read over the infoNet packet from the Root. Most of it was common sense: no unprovoked assault, no stealing, no bribery of Root clergy. There was a weird one: no killing of any kind. Not in self defense, not to save someone else¡¯s life. It made her flash back of her father¡¯s old stories, to his faded morality. To him there had been no such thing as justifiable murder, no such thing as a righteous killing. Mother had sought the fringes of society to escape her legacy of debt. Father had left because his version of right and wrong simply did not function in the modern world of bloodsport and cheap death. Rules or not, Alaya had found her own way. A disappointment to both of her parents, if she had to steal or kill to save her own life or Gaz¡¯s life, Alaya wouldn¡¯t even think twice. Dozens of chances to offer the other guy a peaceful way out, to seek a bloodless compromise over her life. And she¡¯d chosen each time to kill them before they killed her or Gaz.


    Oh well.


    She wasn¡¯t okay with how Bahl-Mau went down, but she was glad Vora died. She hoped it was for good.


    With Gaz and the others enjoying the Root clerics¡¯ hospitality, Alaya found herself unable to sleep. Restlessness kept her tossing and turning for ten minutes before she considered cheating and using her cyberware. All of those red and yellow alerts made the prospect of tapping into her systems just a bit daunting.


    But if she wanted to aid in her own recovery, she¡¯d need to sleep despite the incredible amounts of the stuff she¡¯d enjoyed the last week or so. Microseconds before she initiated a soporific, a proximity alarm sounded.


    Alaya jolted upright from her bed, so engrossed in the self-medicating it took her a moment to figure out the source of the alarm: the ship. Not her flagship, wouldn¡¯t that be nice, but the ship she¡¯d stolen from the tourist on Balh-Mau. The ship she was trying unsuccessfully to sleep in.


    ¡°Kirk!¡± Alaya sent a private chat.


    ¡°Cameras show nothing, the Dhingris are all in bed and I¡¯ve alerted the ship AI to level 1. They¡¯re stuck in their quarters.¡± Kirk had done more than Alaya had considered, before her brain had recovered from the shock. ¡°What next, boss?¡±


    You¡¯re in charge from now on, I¡¯m going back to sleep. Alaya ignored her own rambling thoughts and sent Gaz a short beam warning her they had an intruder, in case the intruder was Gaz. It wasn¡¯t. Whoever they were, they showed up as a fuzzy shadow on the external ship optics. ¡°Arm the weapons and see if we can¡¯t at least prop McRory up and make him look intimidating.¡±


    ¡°What about the mount we setup?¡±


    ¡°Oh right,¡± how¡¯d she forgotten about that? ¡°Get the rocket pod attacked and have the hound stand next to McRory at the entrance. Let¡¯s hope our guest prefers doors to making holes in our ship.¡± Whoever this was, a mech¡¯s rocket systems aimed at their face would be a significant deterrent.


    ¡°Should we really just open the door, boss?¡± Kirk¡¯s question was a fair one, but Alaya had committed.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. We have a lot of guns.¡± She held an small caliber anti-personnel weapon on the door as she sent the AI the open instructions.


    Nothing.


    Ship scanners on full power, Alaya had the hound and even McRory¡¯s scanners all pinging away at the opening, ready for the appearance of anyone.


    Sweat trickled down Alaya¡¯s brow and along the side of her nose, hitting her eyes and making them sting. Autonomic controls locked down her eyelids and held her steady. Or steady-ish.


    ¡°I would have advised against opening the door myself.¡± The voice sounded next to Gaz¡¯s head.


    She screamed internally, scared out of her wires as she spun on the shadowy figure who¡¯d suddenly resolved next to her. How they¡¯d gotten the drop on her did not even enter her consciousness.


    And he stopped her with two fingers.


    One hit her in the jaw, right in the soft spot next to the natural crease in the bone. The second hit her in the shoulder and sent a nerve-jarring shock through her entire body. Systems flashed red and went black.


    Like being hit with a targeted EMP.


    Alaya¡¯s chest hurt, but her body still functioned. They¡¯d failed to knock her out. ¡°Try this on, mothrfucker¡­ I, Alaya of the Alaya¡­¡± they hit her in the throat. It didn¡¯t even hurt, not really. But it sent her vocal chords into a paroxysm.


    Static sounded over her comms as Alaya activated portions of her implant anyway. ¡°¡®Laya? <More static> hear me?¡±


    ¡°Kirk call Gaz!¡± Alaya couldn¡¯t tell whether her signal got out.


    The figure took a dramatic breath. ¡°I really did mean to make contact peacefully.¡± They ¡ª their voice had a kind of mid-tone androgyny Alaya could not specify ¡ª tapped Alaya on the center of her forehead and Alaya found herself in a checkered floor simulation. Now in the same relative position, the person over her appeared to be a gray-skinned doll with interlocking sections which folded under themselves at the joints. ¡°This is easier. I am Evan. Janice sent me to aid you.¡±


    Silver-blue light streaked from a plane at Evan¡¯s back and formed the shape of an inverted mountain, marked with the imprint of a jagged lightning bolt. A data packet flew to Alaya through her Loop Implant. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    It was signed by another Loop Charter holder: ¡°Evan the Shadow of the Nameless Confederacy.¡± They were a sworn nation to Lady Janice of the Eternal Mountain. According to her own Loop Implant¡¯s instructions, to the recordings her mother left her, this was one of the main uses of the Looper Charters, one of the features which had set them apart and made alliance between them profitable: absolute, positive identification among each other. Only one person could claim to be Evan of the Shadow, only one could be Janice. There was no doubt.


    ¡°Oh thank the gods.¡±


    Evan tilted their head back and forth. ¡°That is one group. The Root Clergy would certainly approve. Though they will be less enthused about the defenses you¡¯ve erected on your ship. I suggest dismantling them. We are completely safe here.¡±


    ¡°You got aboard!¡±


    ¡°First, you opened the door. Second, I know and can sense every one of my kind in the area. If they come within ten kilometers, I will insist they explain themselves and I will raise a warning for the rest of you.¡±


    ¡°Your kind?¡±


    The white-skinned figure tilted their head. ¡°Based on your recorded profile, I would have expected you to figure it out by now.¡± Evan leaned in closer and those white eyes now glowed pale green. ¡°May I examine you? Something appears to be damaged.¡±


    Alaya trusted the implant to a limited extent. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I promise I will act as a physician only. I will not discuss my findings or cause you any harm.¡± Promises between Loop Charter holders had a certain weight to them. Alaya was still uncertain. ¡°If your implants are damaged, I am a Technomancer. I might be able to repair them.¡±


    She almost jerked away at the name. No wonder her optics had failed to pick Evan up, no wonder they¡¯d been able to do what they had. Arcane wonders in possession of a supernatural connection to machinery, technomancers were both feared and revered as marvels of genetic engineering. ¡°I can¡¯t stop you anyway, right?¡±


    Evan put their hands on their hips. ¡°Perhaps, but that only makes getting permission more important. If you do not wishme to check your prostheses and repair them, I will not insist. The only thing I insist on was this meeting and the opportunity to deliver Janice¡¯s message.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her message?¡±


    Evan raised a hand and Janice appeared as if in a hologram. She bent over, fiddled with something at knee level, flickered and stood up holding a cup of coffee. ¡°Alaya. Good to see you well.¡± It was a recording, but she winked as she spoke. ¡°I¡¯m sending Evan as an aide-de-camp. They are efficient, trustworthy, and exceedingly useful. I wish I had three. You can trust them the way you trust me, which I guess is something we should discuss again sometime.¡± Another wink. ¡°Be careful and do try to stay out of trouble dear.¡±The image ended with Janice¡¯s symbol, the mountain and lightning bolt.


    Without a face, it was hard to gauge Evan¡¯s reaction to the news they¡¯d be serving Alaya. It wasn¡¯t exactly horror, but then again no face. Alaya had the distinct impression of surprise from their body language. And then as if with a snap of their fingers, Evan relaxed and appeared to accept their fate. ¡°As I said, I would be honored to examine you and help in any way I can.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Be gent¡­¡± This time Alaya did lose consciousness briefly. Most of the red alerts were gone now, a few lingered and Alaya couldn¡¯t help but read them. All of them warned of progressive brain trauma and the potential for damage. A few yellow alerts warned of impending system collapse, giving her weeks to find replacement neurals before she started losing memories or suffering ego degradation. Much better prognosis than a few seconds ago. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I repaired the damage to your existing cyberware.¡± She was out of the simulation and back in the real world staring up at Evan¡¯s cyborg frame. ¡°I am not particularly skilled with organics. Neither installation nor service. But if the components are already installed, then I am more than sufficient.¡±


    ¡°No kidding.¡±


    ¡°You will die without replacement components or a vat rejuvenation.¡± Evan was rather frank. ¡°And your jar-bound friend, would you like me to wake him up?¡±


    ¡°Sure. So¡­ you¡¯re not a cybersurgeon, but you are a Technomancer?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Each of us has our specialties. I am adept at manipulating in-place systems, repairing, taking control of them, enhancing and altering my own cyborg chassis.¡± They raised their hand and a sparkling, flame arose on their palm which shed glitter through their fingers. ¡°My arcane abilities are related to my technological link, of course.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a combat Technomancer.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question.


    ¡°Correct. My original training was in infiltration. But until the last century or so most of my experience was in combat.¡±


    One more soldier. And a magic one at that. Was Janice worried or was she just protecting her investment? Evan had snapped their fingers and fixed Alaya¡¯s broken cyberware. It solved part of her problem, gave her a few more weeks of brain health before things turned bad. But it still left her in the lurch. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a crazy amount of credits lying around?¡±


    ¡°I do, but that will not avail us much here. My reputation with the Riggon Cluster is technically lower than your own.¡±


    ¡°What? How do you know that?¡±


    Evan didn¡¯t look annoyed or bothered with Alaya. ¡°Ping the infoNet beacon and request your current reputation. You can request anyone¡¯s, as long as you know their cluster ID, which you can also retrieve by looking at them. Try it with me.¡±


    She was supposed to have reviewed this information, why did it feel so new? Pinging both the infoNet beacon and Evan was trivial. Alaya had two points of reputation. One for accepting the infoNet packet and one from Ester the cleric.


    Evan¡¯s rep was 1. As Alaya watched though, Evan¡¯s rep ticked up to six.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Evan waggled their eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯d love to tease you and say I messed with the datastore but I did not. Riggon¡¯s Cluster employs two full time Technomancers to protect their reputation and security networks.¡± Evan tapped something and sent an image to Alaya. It was of the last entry in the infoNet packet, which contained a signed receipt for having read the entire packet, which Evan had redeemed for five more rep points.


    Alaya opened up her own packet and found the same section, redeemed her signature for the five rep points. ¡°I guess this is a good way to ensure people both read the packet and can¡¯t later claim they didn¡¯t.¡± She set two different coprocessors to reviewing and summarizing the information.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that you¡¯ll get anything for it, but you might also read the Root Clergy¡¯s packet.¡± Evan. ¡°They really do not want you to kill anyone aboard their plant.¡±


    Alaya sighed. She¡¯d heard it often enough. ¡°Why did Janice send you exactly?¡±


    ¡°I understand you encountered a problem at a space station. A space station which no longer technically exists.¡±


    A drone zoomed into the room, armed with several pistols and a rifle. It was hastily cobbled together and might only fire once before spinning off in a random direction. ¡°Stay right there, buddy!¡± Kirk¡¯s voice broadcast out of the drone.


    Both Evan and Alaya groaned. The aide-de-camp spoke. ¡°I thought we already discussed this. I am here to help.¡±


    ¡°Right. Did he mind control you, ¡®Laya?¡±


    ¡°I prefer do prefer ¡°they,¡± not that I would insist.¡±


    Alaya cracked a smile at Evan¡¯s response. ¡°Settle down, Kirk. Believe it or not, I trust the person who sent Evan here. If that person is messing with me, that¡¯s because they decided to play with their food before eating it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure. It said it was a wizard.¡±


    ¡°Oh please, not ¡°it.¡± They, I prefer they.¡± Evan examined their fingers, the shadow form completing dropping for the first time. Their skin was pale like milk and their hair was dark and braided into a long tail which wove around their shoulders. Some high-class designer had woven together the features of Evan¡¯s face. Their eyes were blue and softly curved. In the simulation their body had seams and borders carved into the flesh. Here in the real, they looked human but for the perfection of their form. It gave away the illusion to the observant.


    Both Kirk and Alaya had fallen silent while they stared at Evan. They wore a long black coat of synthetic leather, pants of the same with a button up white shirt.


    ¡°Are you a lady?¡±


    ¡°Kirk, shh.¡± Alaya rebuked him, embarrassed at his backwater behavior. ¡°Sorry Evan.¡±


    ¡°Allow me to apologize. I spend a good deal of time in the shadows, I tend to overlook the effect my chassis has on people.¡±


    If Alaya had a high class body like that, she would have flaunted it. The same with a sleek ship of the line. Tourist ships were too¡­ fake, too ¡°I picked up this hobby and dropped more in a week than most make in a lifetime¡± for Alaya to enjoy it. Her ace show-off ship flew the flag of a certain pirate band. And she¡¯d need all the help she could get to recover it. ¡°Welcome to the team, Evan.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Gaz

    Very little time. Gaz flowed off the bed with the speed of molten metal. On her feet and changed into a suitable form in less than two seconds, and at the door in even less time. Alaya had sent an intruder alert and wasn¡¯t responding to Gaz¡¯s return pings. Neither was the ship nor the redundant systems Gaz has set in place in the event her drones and probes were destroyed. Someone or something blocked all of them.


    It implied a large-scale attack, perhaps even by the Root clergy themselves. No one came to stop her or resist her charge through the wood and leaf tunnels. This did not fell like an all-out assault. From what she¡¯d gleaned during her meeting with Ester, Gaz did not believe the clergy would stage such an assault themselves.


    Proxies perhaps? Gaz¡¯s brain tore over the possibilities while her frame pushed her onwards. She was further away from the ship than she would have preferred and the paths more twisting than she¡¯d recalled.


    Halfway there and beginning to feel desperate, Gaz received a comm from Alaya. ¡°All clear. Janice sent us a gift. I¡¯ll fill you in if you come here or the next time we meet in person.¡±


    The message contained the correct code phrases and past bonafides which confirmed for Gaz that Alaya was safe. Go meet this gift or return to her room and resume work on examining the damage to her cyberbrain? As urgent as the latter might have been, Gaz wanted something else to focus on for a few minutes. Nothing she did would resolve her problem right now. Escaping that problem might have been exactly the right move.


    ¡°Headed there.¡± Gaz resumed her journey to the hangar, this time at a more reasonable pace. Processes which had been put on hold for the emergency were allowed to resume their tasks and she shifted around the resources of her brain to realign with her present needs. Panic mode shut off a bunch of useful otherwise constant daemons which made Gaz¡¯s life easier. Especially since she¡¯d detected the memory loss. With those back in place, her mental balance found equipoise and she could relax.


    The path felt less twisting now, more direct. As if the very roots themselves had been trying to impede her mad dash to the hangar. Perhaps Gaz would have done something rash or unfortunate there? Impossible to know for certain. How magic, especially theurgy, worked was beyond the kin of anyone incapable of using it.


    Then again, these plants couldn¡¯t be just magic. Major feats of engineering enabled this kudzu to thrive in the black. Those gravity fields that shaped the room weren¡¯t the product of theurgical or arcane magic. At least Gaz did not think so.


    When she stepped into the area around their ship, further relief coursed through Gaz. The visual evidence of Alaya¡¯s safety was the last thing she needed to be at ease. It happened directly, as Alaya had been waiting for Gaz and greeted her from the top of the side ramp up to the ship¡¯s airlock. ¡°Gaz! Good to see you!¡±


    She looked better than yesterday. The changes were sharp and hopeful. Gaz knew as well as any the dangers of flesh-based neural damage. Eventually even she would go full digital, with all of the advantages and disadvantages that entailed. Maintaining flesh for now gave her more in common with Alaya. Besides, Gaz only noticed the problems with her neural implants because of the flesh in her brain. It was useful for something other than catching the odd pathogen and dying.


    Next to Alaya at the top of the ramp stood a lovely looking¡­ person. After her experience with Jaree, Gaz didn¡¯t assume from appearance. Whoever this was had intended their non-binary presentation and Gaz wasn¡¯t the kind to deny or ignore it.


    ¡°And you are?¡±


    ¡°Evan.¡± The newcomer gave Gaz a thorough examination. She could feel it in her nanites, how deeply was Evan looking at her. ¡°Fascinating.¡± Their voice floated exactly in the neutral range. ¡°Your chassis is simply divine.¡±


    Could they work on Gaz? Find out what was wrong and fix it before it grew worse? Here and now was not the place to ask. ¡°Thank you.¡± It took her a second to catch up with the missed social nicety. ¡°Oh, my name is Gaz.¡±


    ¡°It is a pleasure, Gaz.¡±


    One of Kirk¡¯s drones floated up. ¡°We found a Technomancer, but the only one in the galaxy who isn¡¯t an actual techwiz.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Gaz was stunned, and briefly panicked. That ¡°fascinating body¡± remark went far deeper than Gaz had imagined.


    Evan opened their hands like an armature presenting its solar collectors to the sun. ¡°I am a battle-trained Technomancer. My abilities are more in line with tactical and field support. In short, your companion is entirely correct. I am not a cybersurgeon of any renown and I am not especially skilled as a technician.¡±


    An actual Technomancer? Gaz couldn¡¯t help but freeze her chassis in place. What would they think of her? Was this is a repeat of the Ms Feng disaster? ¡°I¡¯ve never met a Technomancer before.¡±


    Mal the pirate admiral had wanted to capture someone like Evan for most of his career. Corps could afford them legit, as could sufficiently large Loop nations. But a pirate? Unlikely unless they offered a sweet deal or figured out a way to kidnap a Technomancer. Not a good idea, in Gaz¡¯s opinion.


    ¡°We¡¯re rare enough, I suppose.¡± They glanced at Alaya and at Kirk. ¡°Janice sent me to help you folks. I think you need it?¡±


    Janice sent them? Alaya had mentioned it, but she¡¯d assumed the ¡°gift¡± was a thing and not a person. Gaz¡¯s processors vented heat through her chassis as they spun into action. So many implications. ¡°This is related to Bahl-Mau.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. More like Gaz had posed her own theory and wanted it disproven.


    ¡°In part. No one¡¯s happy with what happened with the station. ButI am here to keep the two of you safe.¡±


    Gaz knew that last part to be partially false. Janice would toss Gaz into a gravity well if she thought it would keep Alaya safe. And wouldn¡¯t immediately turn Alaya against Janice or her people. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which, there are few¡­ problems coming we should discuss.¡± Evan nodded toward the ship¡¯s interior. ¡°Maybe over a meal. The food here is some of the best in the system, not just the sector.¡±


    The Root Clergy¡¯s provender far exceeded Gaz¡¯s expectations. Not only did they maintain locally grown and produced staples: fresh grain, fruit, and veggies, but they also included an exotic spread of rare varieties. Gaz had never sampled a lychee or a cherimoya before. While texturally distinct, both fruits had succulent flesh. Lychee had a pleasant bite to the flavor, an acidity which cut the sweetness nicely. The cherimoya had a subtle flavor Gaz struggled to categorize. It approached vanilla or even clove, without quite reaching either of them fully. The fruit would make a lovely replacement for vanilla, if their meal hadn¡¯t already been overflowing with the spice.


    ¡°This was incredible.¡± Alaya shook her head and popped a morsel of dark fruit into her mouth. She purred as she chewed and spat out the pit. ¡°Cherries. Fresher than I imagined. Okay we can live here forever now.¡±


    Gaz knew she wasn¡¯t serious, but Gaz could almost agree.


    Evan would not. ¡°Nelissan Arms has launched a fleet against you. The Timbourgais, Yelling Men, Void Thunder, The Cayman, and the Argent Aurum have all black bodied you.¡± They lowered their voice, leaning toward Gaz as if to emphasize their point. ¡°Rumor is, MilCas is sending an Auditor Team. Here.¡±


    ¡°Oh fuck me.¡± Alaya whispered the words.


    ¡°What¡¯s an Auditor Team?¡± Kirk¡¯s presence meant they couldn¡¯t openly discuss everything they might want to. Then again, it was better not to bring certain dark secrets up in the first place.


    ¡°An Auditor Team is part of the MilCas special actions group. They investigate corporate espionage, IP theft, and illegal arms productions.¡± Gaz said the words without inflection. Of the four people at the table, she was most directly threatened by a MilCas patrol, much less an Auditor Team. Someone like that would be able to pin down exactly what Gaz was and destroy her with little effort.


    ¡°Whew, shit. Good thing we¡¯re not doing any of that stuff.¡± Kirk¡¯s drone bobbed as it jammed a probe into a piece of fruit on its plate.


    Alaya cleared her throat. ¡°That¡¯s not strictly speaking true.¡±


    The little hovering drone angled up to point its optics at Alaya. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I have some pats MilCas would be really interested and perhaps unhappy to discover I possess.¡±


    ¡°Please say you didn¡¯t steal from MilCas, did you ¡®Laya?¡±


    Everyone at the table save Kirk knew the score. But no one was going to correct Kirk. ¡°I didn¡¯t steal from them, but I did end up with some stuff. That¡¯s all I really should say about this. You don¡¯t want to know more.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right I don¡¯t.¡± Kirk¡¯s drone swiveled to face the door and turned back to Alaya. ¡°You saved my life. I¡¯m on your side all the way. But if there¡¯s something you got that you can give back to MilCas¡­ can you just give it back?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t Kirk. Sorry man. That¡¯s why the plan is to bug out before they get here.¡±


    ¡°The fleet from Nelissan Arms will arrive in a week. We¡¯re all lucky in that regard. They were unwilling to cop to their real purpose so they couldn¡¯t use the translation gates.¡± Evan continued to deliver bad news. ¡°I expect cast-in assassins are already in-cluster. Same with gated in assassins or retrieval teams for the groups who might want to capture you. The black body offer is content with atomizing you. So they may send suicide drones. It¡¯s what I would do.¡±


    ¡°Ugh.¡± Alaya let out a long breath. ¡°The thought of someone playing sim games to my death depresses me.¡±


    Evan nodded, but no one else responded.


    After a sufficient pause and a cogitation pass, Gaz said. ¡°Let¡¯s decide how we¡¯re going to react. What¡¯s our plan of action?¡±


    ¡°Kowal.¡± Alaya said the word with a kind of ritualistic finality.


    ¡°Who the fuck is Kowal?¡± Kirk asked the question any outsider would have.


    ¡°He killed my mom and dad.¡± Alaya¡¯s voice came out thin. ¡°Technically he led the team who killed them. He¡¯s my ticket to the actual triggermen.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Gaz didn¡¯t lockup. She checked to see who watched her as Alaya spoke. Any of them could have spare optics turned on her. Any of them could be recording her somatic responses right that instant and gauging her guilt projection.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Kirk¡¯s exclamation summed it up for everyone. ¡°How do we get to him while he¡¯s here?¡±


    ¡°We do not.¡± Evan made the pronouncement a final one. ¡°The Root Clergy will turn their full resources against us if we kill someone aboard their Root ship.¡±


    ¡°What do we do then?¡± Alaya scowled. She didn¡¯t want to kill Kowal, not at first. She would want to hurt him and to get the information she craved out of it. Not the best arrangement for the interrogator, a subject who had no hope of surviving after providing the answer the interrogator wanted.


    ¡°We could wait for him to leave.¡± Gaz had already been planning along these lines anyway. Evan nodded in agreement, but let Gaz continue. ¡°I doubt Kowal intends to live the rest of his days here, once he¡¯s gone we can intercept him and take back the ship.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal with that ship?¡±


    Alaya shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s mine. I want it back and I want Kowal.¡± She tapped the table next to her empty plate. ¡°How do we find out when he¡¯s leaving and where? Based on¡­ there¡¯s millions of square kilometers from which he could leave and we¡¯d have to be ready to capture his trajectory or risk losing him.¡±


    Part of that was for Kirk¡¯s benefit. Unless it was destroyed, Alaya would never lose track of her flagship. But with the impracticality of her using a travel-gate or a teleport, if Kowal and her ship built up a big enough lead, he would effectively be in the wind. The worst case scenario was Kowal caught on to their pursuit, fled back to the Mal-wares, and warned them Alaya was coming. ¡°Perhaps the clergy can¡¯t help us find or hurt Kowal. But rather they could help us determine when and where he¡¯s departing. Or they could arrange for us to leave shortly before and in the same place?¡±


    Alaya snapped her fingers at Gaz. ¡°I like it. They¡¯re not even giving us information, just a subtle advantage.¡±


    Evan said, ¡°how do we know they are not offering the same arrangement to Kowal? He has to know he¡¯s being pursued by now.¡±


    Again, silence. Alaya spoke first. ¡°All we can do is ask. And maybe check in with Marcus?¡±


    Medical kept Alaya confined to the ship despite the time she¡¯d had to recover. Gaz wasn¡¯t risking her brain, even aware of the hypocrisy. Two combat drones accompanied Gaz and Evan to the rooms Ester had provided.


    The console in the center, the wooden altar-like piece of furniture, had an option for contacting the hosts. Gaz activated it and waited.


    Neither she nor Evan chattered to fill the emptiness. In her experience, baseline organic humans were far more likely to chat idly than cyborgs. Idle chatter was a waste of cycles. At the moment Gaz was running intensive self-diagnostic simulations. So far, her investigations had been fruitless. A random, but generally harmless error had entered into her I/O pathways. It was ubiquitous, but not even a thousandth of a percentage outside of spec. Normal error checking caught it and corrected, but it had begun to slowly add a cost to her processes. And based on her analysis, that cost was projected to compound.


    Two minutes thirty-seven seconds. It took a member of the Root clergy that long to respond to their inquiry. Not medical rates, but faster than some luxury accommodations bragged. ¡°How may I help you?¡±


    A man¡¯s voice spoke to them through the leaf doorway. ¡°Actually, could we speak to someone about departure times and some plans?¡±


    ¡°May I come in?¡± For some reason this little island of propriety amused Gaz. It always had. Though the priest outside owned this place, as completely and truly as any human could own anything, and yet he begged Gaz and Evan¡¯s leave to enter. Bizarre and amusing.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    The leaves parted soundlessly and a red-robed man with a shaved head stepped into the room. Freshly tonsured, Gaz could still make out the line of the man¡¯s hair where he¡¯d cut it off. No lasers or nanite treatments here, he¡¯d almost certainly used a straight razor. Like Ester and Marcus, he was 100% baseline human. Cosmetically, he was in his twenties, but it was impossible to assess his real age. According to infoNet his name was Lodrun and his rep was 87. He bowed to all four of them, two drones and two cyborgs. ¡°I am called Lodrun and I speak for the Root. How may I be of service?¡±


    Tables and chairs rose from the floor in response to their group¡¯s need. Lodrun remained standing, in a traditional servant¡¯s position. It was also a power move, a way to separate himself from their group symbolically. Such a choice was not lost on Gaz.


    ¡°I am sorry, but we cannot provide information regarding one guest to another.¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯re not asking to be given the information. We¡¯d just like to be warned and get the chance to leave at the same time as him.¡± Alaya was adamant, in part because though Lodrun refused, his refusal was hardly absolute. ¡°Please just, I don¡¯t know, do you have superiors or whatever you could ask?¡±


    ¡°I will check with the synod, but I do not believe they will accede to your wishes.¡± None of Gaz¡¯s scans revealed irritation at Alaya¡¯s insistence. This priest maintained an envious equipoise as he spoke. Unlike Marcus, whose serenity bore a kind of humor in his stance, Ludron¡¯s thin smile held no mirth. Only emptiness. Whether good or bad, it was hard for Gaz to say. It didn¡¯t make her inclined to trust the priest. Except that he had just given them the closest thing to a potential chance yet. And he¡¯d made Alaya¡¯s drone bounce, which suggested she was doing something similar in her room back aboard their ship.


    If he disappointed Alaya, Gaz would be cross with Ludron, even knowing he answered to some kind of ecclesiarchy.


    ¡°Is there any other service I might render?¡±


    Alaya drone twisted in midair, mimicking the shaking of a head. ¡°Thank you again, but that¡¯s all we need. Please.¡±


    Lodrun bowed and turned to leave, but Gaz stopped him. ¡°We¡¯re going back to our ship. Do you mind meeting us there?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Over their private band, Alaya said, ¡°this is a way to get us¡­¡±


    A shrill internal alarm sounded in Gaz¡¯s subsystems. When she¡¯d planted the algorithms which produced this alarm, she¡¯d come closer to prayer than she¡¯d ever been in her entire life. More than anything else, she¡¯d prayed these alarms would never sound. Alaya¡¯s cyberware had registered critical fault with her biologics.


    Kirk and their ship was already in the process of treating her and Gaz was hooked into the data streams of Alaya¡¯s vitals as her legs spun up and she left Evan far behind.


    Stroke. In the cusp of human history, right at the short burst of growth which preceded humanity¡¯s explosion into the stars, stroke and organ failure had been some of the biggest causes of death among humans. Thanks to space travel, misadventure and violence soon took over. With the advent of cyberware, stroke and organ failure became an artifact of extreme poverty.


    Massive chunks of data supported Gaz¡¯s paranoia and concern when she¡¯d insisted Alaya install the first few cyber implants in her head. One of them was a resus and triage implant which had thrown Alaya into a neural protective coma at the first sign of stroke and almost certainly saved her life.


    If not for Evan¡¯s appearance, that implant might not have functioned correctly. They¡¯d needed a technician other than Alaya. Fate¡¯s delivery had been flawed, a little off the mark for what they needed. But Gaz couldn¡¯t find much reason to complain as she looked over Alaya¡¯s body floating in the tank.


    Provided energy, the stasis tank would keep Alaya alive and healthy indefinitely. The longer she remained within, the higher the chance of lethal shock upon being removed. That chance remained negligible for up to a year. On human scales, that was nothing. For Gaz though, she¡¯d had two hundred years pass in the literal blink of an eye.


    Proximity alerts warned Gaz of Lodrun¡¯s approach. She hit the door only after securing Alaya¡¯s cr¨¨che and making sure she had a continuous line to her friend¡¯s vitals. ¡°Hello.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just you.¡± Lodrun wrinkled his nose. ¡°I would have thought your companion keen to hear the Synod¡¯s answer.¡±


    He didn¡¯t look as though he was about to toss a refusal in Gaz¡¯s face. ¡°You can tell me.¡±


    ¡°The Synod has agreed to your request, provided you assist the Synod with a delicate matter.¡±


    This was the one thing Gaz had not considered. Naive in retrospect, but also sensible: as with all of the rest of humanity, the Root Clergy required their pound of flesh as payment for a debt. ¡°What matter?¡±


    ¡°I would love to discuss this matter with you privately, if I may?¡±


    Gaz checked Alaya¡¯s condition, stable and as well as could be hoped. ¡°Fine.¡¯ Then she contacted Evan and had them meet her in the mess hall. At the same time, she had the maintenance drones clean the space up and prep it for guests. Not knowing how to deal with the potential magical abilities at Ludron¡¯s command, Gaz locked their ship¡¯s information network down and set it to good child mode, residents as parents, everyone else as strangers.


    Little about the ship suggested her residential payload now. The Dhingri¡¯s had agreed to remain in their quarters again, which helped address a part of Gaz¡¯s own concerns. From the airlock to the mess, the halls were spotless and a little less suggestive of a horny bachelor than when they commandeered the vessel.


    Evan was already at the table. He didn¡¯t move or react to their appearance. This time Ludron sat down when Gaz offered him a seat. The sense of horse-trading grew stronger as he leaned forward with his hands still in his lap. But when Gaz took the seat opposite him, Ludron said nothing.


    If this came down to a matter of patience, Gaz knew she would lose. She could close her eyes and blink away any amount of time. But not while Alaya lay in that tank dying. ¡°What kind of assistance can we offer?¡±


    ¡°Please understand that¡­ aiding you in the way you ask carries a degree of risk for the Root and our order. For all theurgists in the galaxy.¡±


    This was the dress up phase of the bargain. There was no need to butter Gaz and Evan up. There was no need for the Root Clergy to sweeten the deal. But they put tassels on it and made sure Gaz knew how much this deal would cost the Root.


    In other words, this was going to cost Gaz even more. ¡°Can you just tell us what you want?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, I require assurance of your discretion.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re more than discrete.¡± Gaz was ready to pour it on thick, but the priest shook his head.


    ¡°No. I do not think you understand.¡± He opened his hand and a leaf unfolded from his palm an rose into a large green fan shape between them. The little veins bulging as if filled with liquid which was giving the leaf its rigid shape. Then those veins burst into viridian light and it poured over Gaz and Evan. ¡°You must give your word to tell no one of what I intend to share with you.¡±


    There was at least a fraction of the cost: swear a magically binding oath or don¡¯t even learn what they¡¯ve turned down. ¡°I so swear.¡± The choice wasn¡¯t a meaningful one for Gaz. This was what Alaya wanted, as long as it did not threaten Alaya, Gaz would do anything to get her Kowal. An oath was a tiny expense.


    ¡°I so swear.¡± Evan didn¡¯t seem bothered by the oath-taking either, just waiting to see if Gaz agreed before he did.


    ¡°Very good, and thank you both.¡± Lodrun looked relieved. ¡°My order cannot allow the knowledge of what I am going to tell you to leave the branches without some kind of bindings.¡± He swept his arms around him as if to point to encompass everything. ¡°This whole great massive structure is the result of a tiny little tasks, each undertaken with singular focus. We are each cells of the great tree.¡± Okay, get on with it please. Lodrun nodded as if he¡¯d heard Gaz¡¯s thoughts. ¡°One of the most important such cells has gone missing¡­ or rather I suppose I should say it was stolen.¡±


    ¡°A cell?¡±


    Lodrun¡¯s voice lowered, a mixture of religious awe and reverence filled it. ¡°Indeed, the most precious of all cells: a seed.¡±


    Evan leaned forward. ¡°You lost a seed to the Tree of Heaven?¡±


    ¡°You know of our Order.¡± The priest blinked at Evan¡¯s words. ¡°And yes. One of our seeds has gone missing. We must retrieve it.¡±


    Raising his eyebrows, Evan leaned back and nodded subtly to Gaz. The message was clear. ¡°We need you or someone in your order to vouch for us with a cyber surgeon before we do the job.¡±


    ¡°How much?¡±


    Gaz let Evan speak. ¡°No more than ten points. Maybe half that.¡±


    ¡°As well as the arrangement regarding your vessel and the one you seek?¡± Lodrun spoke carefully, trying to outline the limits of their transaction.


    Looking to Gaz, Evan left the rest to her. ¡°If you could track Kowal¡¯s communications and see those records get sent to us, that would be great too.¡±


    Lodrun agreed at once and confirmed Gaz¡¯s initial suspicions. They were being severely underpaid. But she didn¡¯t know how far reputation went in the Clusters or what she could ask for. ¡°I accept all of your terms.¡±


    ¡°As do I. Shake on it?¡±


    ¡°Of course not.¡± Lodrun snorted and shook his head. Another leaf rose up from his palm and bathed the three of them in its green light. ¡°I accept the terms of the deal as specified.¡±


    ¡°As do I.¡± Gaz spoke next and Evan finished.


    ¡°Me too. Terms as agreed upon.¡±


    The light flared once more and the leaf vanished. ¡°I have a data chip which will give you all of the information we have regarding the seed¡¯s disappearance.¡±


    ¡°And I want to use your reputation at Filaireale¡¯s Emporium.¡± Evan opened a local map and pinpointed the location they¡¯d discussed with Gaz after Alaya¡¯s collapse. The proprietor, one Filia, was the finest Technomancer cybersurgeon in the whole solar sector.


    ¡°I can and will¡­ but Filaireale¡¯s Emporium does not have appointments within the next solar decade.¡± Lodrun knew a good deal about his locale.


    ¡°Sounds like they do good work.¡± Evan had an in though. ¡°Still, please give the rep hit when they call in?¡±


    ¡°As I so swore.¡± Lodrun bowed.


    ¡°And like I said, the moment we¡¯re done with this, we¡¯ll get on your seed problem. Cool?¡±


    ¡°Ah, implying we can speed this process along if necessary?¡± Lodrun raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I suppose. What do you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Teleportation, of course.¡±


    ¡°Then I guess we just need to decide what exactly we¡¯re doing for Alaya.¡±

 Chapter 15 - Alaya

    The waking process had been streamlined significantly through the introduction of implants and related technologies. As a result, Alaya had lost her familiarity with the process. Years had worn down the fog of post-awake awareness, the haze of uncertainty separating dreams from the real had cleared well before Alaya usually opened her eyes. Normally readouts displayed information to her the moment she became aware.


    This time, nothing.


    She didn¡¯t have time to panic or consider her surroundings. Gaz appeared before her, hovering in the air. Transparent strings appeared in Alaya¡¯s vision now, diagnostic readouts, suppressed internal logging messages all flowed by without leaving a mark upon her mind.


    ¡°Alaya? Can you hear me?¡± Gaz¡¯s mouth had moved, the same mouth she¡¯d worn for years, but sound only just then started to come through.


    ¡°Yes! Can you hear me? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Oh thank goodness.¡± Had there been tension in her face before? ¡°You¡¯re under the knife. Right now.¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°They fixed your organics well enough for us to communicate, but I told them I needed to talk to you. The surgeon is not happy with me.¡±


    Alaya snorted. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°We have ten points of reputation from the Root clergy. And a job. In exchange they¡¯re going to give us the jump on Kowal when he leaves.¡±


    ¡°Cherry sweet, Gaz.¡±


    ¡°The ten points are for you. How much metal do you want? Just in your head? Anywhere else?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what ten points means.¡±


    Gaz covered her mouth. ¡°It¡¯d be enough for a full conversion if you wanted it.¡±


    ¡°The surgeon knows about the implant?¡± Chemicals had clearly slowed her brain for the thought to come so late.


    ¡°Evan¡¯s not concerned.¡± Gaz flickered in the simulation for a moment. Around them the while floors and walls, all stark and tiled like some kind of old fashioned asylum, stared back at Alaya while she waited for Gaz to flick back.


    ¡°Everything okay?¡±


    A look of utter horror crossed Gaz¡¯s face for an instant, so fast Alaya did not think she¡¯d seen it outside the simulation. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Do you have preferences?¡±


    Alaya had to think. Her parents had been baseline, blessed with a little magic and cursed with shoulder-crushing debt. How much of their legacy did she really want to leave behind? ¡°Keep my face the way it is. You can replace everything else. I have a list¡­¡± The file was old, but recently updated. Unable to find it herself, she told Gaz where she¡¯d stored it. Then she slowly drifted back to sleep as Gaz zipped away in the fashion of a sim-diver logging out.


    ¡°Greetings operator. I am designation Maya 3181, your personal Eidolon assistant. As it is your first time with an Eidolon assistant, I will be guiding you through a user¡­¡±


    ¡°Halt.¡± The voice stopped and Alaya hung in black. ¡°Why are my optics down and where¡¯s my somatiform image?¡±


    The voice returned, ¡°All integrated subsystems are in post-installation readiness. Would you like Maya to scan your data registers for preferred settings and initialize with defaults?¡±


    Oh god. Alaya braced herself. Depending on how close the surgeon got with their neural linkage and how upmarket the upgrades, Alaya might be on the cusp of inviting a great deal of pain on herself. ¡°Initialize.¡±


    A world of vibrant, sparkling color rose up around her. Sight was the first of the impressions to trickle and then steadily flow through her neurons. This linkage was¡­ unheard of. Alaya couldn¡¯t tell the difference between what the optics sent her and her eyes. Before long the scintillating colors slowed and the rest of her neural subsystems kicked in.


    She lay on her back, perpendicular to the gravitic normal. A creche filled with now pure white light supported her. It was warm ¡ª precisely 22 degrees ¡ª and she could taste the purity of the freshly generated air.


    Chemical analysis informed her of concentration of post-installation particulate matter in the air, some of it matching her DNA profile. Gross.


    The ubiquitous machine-hum of a space ship wrapped her in its embrace. It wasn¡¯t just hearing she experienced then, but her ability to sense vibration in general. The ship roared, purred, and in a few places wheezed, which all contributed to her wind symphony of life.


    And then the final connections snapped into place. Legs and arms connected to her trunk and raced with each other to send the subtle tactile sensations coursing over their surfaces to her brain. The pale sheet covering her body tickled.


    Alaya tossed it away and looked. There was nothing inorganic about what she saw. Vision focusing many magnitudes and she still not could find a single indication of artificial parts. But with the final sensory connections in place, Alaya could access meta-functions. Nerves sent information about the hive clusters in her forearms and calves. These weren¡¯t just holding systems, these were drone fabrication systems. Exactly what she¡¯d asked for.


    A full multi-bank processor system sat in her skull and managed the drones. This AI servant, ¡°Maya¡± ¡ª who needed a new name ¡ªpossessed functions which outstripped their old ship¡¯s AI. Maya was even more advanced than a SenoAg navigation system.


    She ordered up a full diagnostic, but the voice sounded again. ¡°Operator, I have already prepared an abstract of your multi-system cybernetic upgrades. Would you like to review it now?¡±


    ¡°No. Let¡¯s set you up properly. Visual appliance mode, simulated.¡± No one else was in the all-metal surfaces recovery room with her, likely to give her time to do this exact thing.


    Alaya fell back out of the real and into the simulation. She sat cross legged with an all-white doll like body. They¡¯d reset her perisomatic projection. Alaya would fix that too. Floating in front of her was a single white flame. It brightened as the voice addressed her. ¡°Engage setup mode? You would prefer automatic¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Manual mode, enter good child mode.¡± Now it would only speak when asked to. Alaya had learned to sculpt in the simulation before she was ten, so it didn¡¯t take her long to give her Eidolon a more comfortable appearance.


    Then she dove into its specifications and abilities. This thing was high high-end. Apparently reputation was worth way more than they¡¯d thought. Or Gaz had sweetened the deal somehow. None of her original hardware remained and the technicians had replaced close to 98 percent of her organic brain matter with digital replacements. Significant portions of those were devoted to the Eidolon. Alaya gave her a name now: Pontikos.


    Pontikos could perform medical triage, she could control the drone AI or leave it to Alaya. She could research, improvise, and create her own plans. Loaded in the Eidolon¡¯s core was a complete personality adjustment system. Alaya gave Pontikos an accent similar to her mother¡¯s and a disposition similar to her father¡¯s.


    The implant Alaya inherited from her mother referred to her as ¡°Princess Alaya.¡± Pontikos was not allowed to call her that under any circumstance. Instead, Alaya picked something which would make her grin every time it addressed her.


    Done tinkering and initializing her assistant AI, Alaya fired her up. The flame version of Pontikos shrank into a dot and then unfolded into a squat mouse-girl with soft pink fur and fuzzy round ears. She hopped onto Alaya¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°what do we do next, Boop?¡±


    A few tears ran down Alaya¡¯s cheeks. They¡¯d left her able to cry. Thanks Gaz.


    Coming out of the simulation felt like¡­ nothing. ¡°Do I have multi-sim capability?¡±


    Per her programming, Pontikos didn¡¯t answer directly. Instead, she cast Alaya¡¯s consciousness partly into the simulation. It took massive amounts of computational ability, but one set of senses now hung in the simulation. And one opened her eyes and lay stationary on a medical table.


    Alaya took in her surroundings while she up cycled her awareness. This was another ¡®borg trick, something Gaz could do which¡­ time froze. Motes of dust floating off of her skin ¡ª the only source of dust in the room ¡ª stopped in their upward bounces. With her temporal perceptions shifted, Alaya knew the motes were moving. But her consciousness was moving too quickly for the motion to be conveyed sensibly. Her eyes would update when the motes moved enough to trip her visual acuity.


    Amazing.


    At the same time, in her forked simulation consciousness, Alaya redesigned herself. Part of her fascination with mice had been related to her father and his stories. She was no longer her daddy¡¯s little girl. But she was still the fierce and clever little mousey her father had raised.


    A second set of perceptual apparatuses left her simulated body ¡ª the somatic projection or perisomatic form ¡ª and checked to make sure she looked the way she intended. Humanoid, with mouse-like reversed knees and a light coat of short grey fur. Her face had sharper features, distinct from her somatic body in case she didn¡¯t want to be recognized out of the sim, and curly red hair like a person, with two little mouse ears sticking up from the top.


    ¡°We look pretty!¡±


    Balancing her time sense against her body¡¯s ability to move should have been beyond difficult. It should have taken weeks of tweaking by a surgeon or an AI assistant at the least. Not that Alaya had personal experience with such things; she¡¯d only ever read open source manuals. The first time she tried moving in the real while cast into the sim, Alaya turned and slid smoothly off of the medical bed she¡¯d been on. The sheet fluttered off of her legs, but Alaya ignored it for the room.


    An ancient civilization, as old to those first people reaching into the stars as those reachers were to Alaya, painted their statues vibrant, garish colors so they stood out and caught the eye gloriously. For centuries though, people had denied those old colorful patterns due to a strange prejudice.


    The office she stood in somehow melded those two styles. Above head height, about three meters up, the ceiling bore a stationary mural filled with tiny people going about an amazing variety of tasks. Their lives spilled down the walls into friezes which depicted battles and various events Alaya only bothered to record for now. There was no question her systems could connect to the local Net, but she¡¯d disabled those during setup. Below head height the room was all white, even the furniture.


    ¡°What do you think of my paintings?¡± Alaya¡¯s brain dipped right into slow time, almost automatically. She reviewed her recent recordings and found the door had opened at the corner of her vision, but she hadn¡¯t set any of her subprocesses to personal security. If she did that though she might end up attacking someone¡­ ¡°With so much time, you¡¯d think my question might deserve an answer.¡±


    He didn¡¯t exactly pull her out of slow time. Rather his voice reached her through slow time. How¡¯d he do that?


    ¡°You¡¯ll find it exhausting to interact with others in slow time, eventually. For now, consider the paintings perhaps?¡±


    Her laugh dropped her back into normal time. ¡°They¡¯re pretty. Did you paint them or do you just own them?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the first person to ask me that.¡± His skin was pale purple and his eyes a soft sage green, with no variation between iris, pupil, or sclera. The man wore a thin light grey coat which would be at home in a club or in a laboratory with a pair of black pants and a white t-shirt. His hair was as black as his slacks and cut in an old-fashioned military shape. ¡°I painted them myself.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what they mean.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you look it up?¡±


    Alaya almost snorted at him. Because inter solar Net rates are even more insane when you pay five times as much for them. ¡°Is that safe for me?¡±


    He gave a small nod, though it wasn¡¯t clear to Alaya whether he agreed with her question or was answering it at first. ¡°Safe enough I suppose. I didn¡¯t find any accounts in your old blackware.¡±


    ¡°They would¡¯ve been encrypted.¡±


    That brought a genuine smile to his face. ¡°That¡¯s a fact.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re like Evan, aren¡¯t you?¡± It made sense, the perfect integration with her new parts, the performance, their quality. She¡¯d known before she asked.


    ¡°That is also a fact.¡± He cleared his throat and walked over to Alaya. ¡°And I am still quite unlike my bloodthirsty cousin.¡± Holding his hands up, he didn¡¯t touch Alaya right away. ¡°Do you mind if I check and make my final adjustments?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Alaya said the words and the technician touched her on her shoulders. I didn¡¯t even ask his name. Weird.


    He answered in her mind. I installed your new cyberware and have greatly interacted with your hardware. The systems trust me. And I assure you I do not abuse the trust of my patients. Alaya had no time to tense up before he continued. My name is Nathaniel and I am aware of your implant and its significance. A wave of inspection flowed over Alaya and Pontikos purred in her head. Green logs appeared in her sight, green across the board. Very good.


    Nathaniel stepped away and went to wash his hands. ¡°You, young lady, appear to be the image of perfect health. In fact, you have an affinity to cyberware and technology.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± What else was she going to say? Oh right. ¡°Do I owe you anything else?¡±


    ¡°Oh no. You and your friend are paid up with me. In fact, I gave a point of reputation to all of you. Enjoy.¡± He bowed to Alaya and stepped into the doorway from which he¡¯d entered. ¡°Do not rush, but when you are ready, leave through this room and follow the sim path.¡± He flicked a finger toward her and a packet with his signature as well as various NetIDs registered with her AI. ¡°If you have any difficulties related to your implants, feel free to contact with me. Consultations are always free.¡±


    With that he was gone.


    Wait¡­ me and my friend?


    Alaya had forgotten clothing. But then again¡­ she didn¡¯t need any. With a thought she extruded a body suit to cover herself, composed from a set of insectoid micromachines she released over her body and woven in seconds.


    Then she activated her stealth configuration. A setup as extensive as Vora¡¯s would have deprived Alaya of some of the toys she¡¯d prioritized, so she settled for a trimmed down version. Dampeners broadcast off-phase counter tones to silence her and her skin and clothing took on a blended, active camouflage aspect. Digital systems would pick her out easily, but biologics wouldn¡¯t and some simpler AIs might need time to sort her out too. It was mostly a vanity installation.


    The rest of the facility, presumably Nathaniel¡¯s facility, had the same white stone-like walls his operating theater had. A blue trail through the air beckoned Alaya away from the room and to the right. When she focused on it, her optics opened an information window and Pontikos informed her it was Nathaniel¡¯s path to the exit.


    An urge to release her nano swarms here and see what they could do gripped her. But there was a bad idea right there. A technomancer like Nathaniel had better find that hilarious. Otherwise Alaya would be in a lot of trouble. Leave it alone and don¡¯t be crazy. Let them loose in the ship.


    Compromise established, Alaya activated her systems and sped through the ship. This was another feature of a cyborged conscious Alaya had never tried. Not only did she zoom through the halls, fast enough for the wind to brush against her cheeks and chill them, but she watched the whole thing in fast time, zoomed up to an extreme speed. A boring meeting could end in half a second, the abstract prepared by her assistance AI done before said meeting.


    And she didn¡¯t have the slightest difficulty controlling it.


    Weee!


    She lacked Gaz¡¯s speed, but almost everyone did. Still, Alaya could all but fly.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Flight. Oh my god. That was too tempting to pass on. She sent a message to Nathaniel. He¡¯d given her his contact info after all. ¡°Can I step outside real quick? I mean on the way to my ship?¡± Dozens of responsibilities and more debt than any one human should have to absorb waited to crush her back aboard that other ship.


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll adjust the path for you.¡± It turned a meter ahead sharply into the side of the hallway. Right into an airlock. ¡°I trust I don¡¯t have to explain space lanes or walking to you?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Salt drinker here.¡± Alaya gave the answer her dad had taught her during her first space walk. They¡¯d lived in places where no one else did. He¡¯d still insisted she pick up lane rules. Of course, with her current body there was no need for a suit or the little salt pellets her dad insisted she place at the cheek mount of her helmet ¡°for emergencies.¡± Only later had she learned it was an old superstition from the days of early space exploration.


    Alaya popped open the airlock and stepped in. Her personal seals had already engaged. It was impossibly strange to imagine. Parts of her body was still flesh. But she knew what was about to happen. It sent a tingle though her.


    The moment the air began to leave the chamber, micro and nano machines covering her body shifted to suit protocols. Where organics would have met the void of space, instead those machines protected and warmed her flesh. Other machines converted themselves into little engines, storing and ready to eject particles. Still others readied to spread between her arms and capture streams of expelled particles. Both of these ejection and capture systems would give her flight.


    Space flight.


    Zero-G didn¡¯t hit the way it usually did when most of her body was organic. One second gyroscopic controls, better than her inner ear would have been, informed her the normal was here where feet were. The next the normals had shifted to a general tug slightly back toward the ship, barely perceptible.


    Alaya gathered her legs to kick the ship away from herself and chuckled at the mental orientation. Simultaneously, her AI and Pontikos gave her precise thrust coordinates. She could see a tiny square of space through the side port. Alaya wanted the whole thing.


    Sensors arrayed across her body and transmitters connected in mesh to billions of their fellows in the area provided flight clearance for her. And she was out.


    Free from the inertial plane of Nathaniel¡¯s ship, Alaya¡¯s belly clenched despite the conversion of muscles into fibrous dendritic tissues. A primal spacer fear grabbed her, akin to the monkey¡¯s fear of heights, Alaya fell into the embrace of her direct autonomic controls. The fear gone in moments as Pontikos tweaked her hormone levels. All that was left was wonder.


    From within a spaceship¡¯s hull, space felt smaller than it really was. Optics, sensors and dozens of disparate systems condensed the vast distances down to human comprehension and thereby stole a fraction of the wonder.


    Gone was that abstraction.


    Stars. Everywhere. The void was painfully misnamed. Light filled it, bombarding her from distances as ancient as space was big. At her feet, a massive pillar floated in the void. It was so large her optics had to change to non-human magnification to see the front or back. From where she stood, the curve of the ship was hardly discernible with human perceptions.


    Floating there in the sea of black with a massive beach below, Alaya relaxed for the first time in weeks. Her friends had saved her life. Had saved her memories. The moment it occurred to her, she checked her memory integrity. Over ninety percent, higher than a baseline human.


    Gods I am lucky.


    All she had to do now was capture Kowal and get him to point her in the direction of the rest of his pirate gang. Easy peasy.


    Mission back in mind, Alaya fired herself to the ship, but not before using her enhanced senses to pick out the various members of the cluster from where they sat. On the other side of the Pillar of Man ¡ª Nathaniel¡¯s ship ¡ª she¡¯d find a blob of material that, up close, would have looked like trees and roots.


    She also pinpointed her own ship, or her temporary ship the Musk Duster. A name she still had to correct. It was close by and contained the expected number of lifeforms. Everyone was okay.


    Nathaniel¡¯s path led her back to Gaz and the others. She found them in a small conference room with white walls and pillars adding texture to the surfaces.


    They hugged, Gaz and Alaya, and Alaya took a permanent recording of that first contact in her new body.


    Evan stood by with a neutral expression, the same as Isham. They resembled twin bookends with their statue-like appearances. It was the closest Alaya had come to nervousness with her new body. What Evan and Isham were doing, that creepy-blank expression. Alaya could do that too.


    Then a voice shouted at her down another hallway in the ship. Gaz¡¯s exaggerated eye roll and dramatic sigh staved off a violent response from Alaya when McRory charged into view beating his chest.


    Among many things, his paint job had changed. Gone were the old Bahl-Mau symbols and gangster images. Graffiti-like shimmering words covered the chassis. Many of them were challenges in the native patois of the Bahl-Mau drudges. Several of them proclaimed the owner of the chassis as ¡°Kirk the Breaker.¡±


    ¡°Kirk?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! Kirk the Breaker!!!¡± He shouted and strummed his massive gorilla-like hands as if playing a guitar. That was one of the major changes Alaya picked up right away: the hands were far larger than they¡¯d been originally. If she was guessing, Nathaniel had installed some kind of permanent or semi-permanent weapon in those hands. His legs were reinforced and had redesigned feet articulating on an eight-spoke platform of ¡°toes¡± which made the chassis very stable. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    The face was a strange thing. Squarish, like a circle which had been pressed on all sides, but not enough for those sides to be actually parallel. Lines of noise trailed down the grey front plate with an font-like smiling face in the center. ¡°You look¡­ unique.¡± Is that where they installed his head?


    ¡°You don¡¯t like it, I get it¡­¡± A different voice, one Alaya had not cared for the first time she encountered it.


    Vora. Her body slid into view, moving as if gliding across the edge of a blade. Every part of her body language purred with attempted, clumsy seduction, but the grace of her chassis gave the pilot ¡ª it had to be Kirk ¡ª some leeway for expression. The dress he¡¯d chosen sank her. It was a mid-thigh number, flared at the hem and gathered at the hips. And hot pink.


    ¡°Please make him change out of that.¡± Alaya found equally pained expressions in Gaz¡¯s eyes. A quirk of amusement on Isham¡¯s lips. And total blankness from Evan.


    Kirk laughed and his clothes shimmered away. Vora disappeared far more effectively than Alaya could. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Pick better clothes, but otherwise I like it. What did you do?¡± The last question she directed to Evan.


    He shook his head and motioned toward where Vora and McRory stood. She¡¯d re-appeared and the two of them moved slightly out of sync with each other. ¡°He did it. Or rather he and Nathaniel did it.¡±


    ¡°My friend¡­ right, but I thought he was going to give you a body.¡±


    ¡°Naw, ¡®Laya he gave me three!¡± Both McRory and Vora¡¯s bodies spoke at the same time.


    ¡°Three?¡±


    Gaz interceded then. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the ship and finish this discussion.¡±


    They led Alaya back through Nathaniel¡¯s ship to the hangar. The classical look continued here with massive white columns supporting a room large enough to host ships two or maybe even three classes above their Musk Duster.


    A similarly sized coupe ship stood in their way and the group stopped before it. The central axis of the ship made a soft point, almost a nod to the first pioneering vessels who broke out of Earth¡¯s gravity and into space. But the resemblance ended at the flared sides which expanded and offered weapon hatches, cargo mounts, and other utility sockets. Weird that whoever owned this ship didn¡¯t bother to hook anything up there.


    Automated systems had initiated a scan the moment Alaya spotted the ship. She called up the name of the ship: Mousehome. Modified SenoAg coupe.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    Alaya was shaking her head. Big numbers meant something to her. She had clearly failed to understand the import of ten points of reputation. While certainly nice ¡ª Alaya wasn¡¯t dying and Kirk had a new body. A new body she was partly standing in and partly staring at.


    Nathaniel and the others had rearranged the Musk Duster, and rechristened her the Mousehome. Now the interior had the same stucco look Alaya had preferred over most of the walls and ceilings. The furnishings had been upgraded to something even SenoAg didn¡¯t offer: adaptive morphic nanostructures. Chairs, couches, beds all adapted to the user¡¯s preferences and comfort. Luxurious! And insanely expensive in terms of credits.


    Apparently the total reconfiguration of their ship had cost two of the ten points they¡¯d spent in total. Nathaniel had been cagey about the details, but he¡¯d deemed the final upgrades Alaya and Kirk had received worthy of eight of those points.


    For someone who hadn¡¯t grown up under the specter of an otherwise incomprehensible number, it might not have sounded suspicious.


    Kirk¡¯s new body was a marvel. Solid dianite construction, a Technomantic material Alaya had trouble getting details on. It was strong enough to withstand a direct hit from some ship-class weapons and could be used as a superconducting medium depending on how it was installed.


    Curved over the small cylinder of dark metal was a screen similar to the one on McRory¡¯s face. It showed Kirk¡¯s face, complete with running lines and the occasional jitter.


    ¡°This is you now, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yup ¡®Laya. I decided a flesh body was dumb.¡±


    Gaz had stood quietly while Alaya took in Kirk¡¯s new ¡°body.¡± Technically, wrapped in that armor the way he was, Kirk stood a good chance of outliving them all. He had a hybrid reactor power supply connected to his life support mechanisms. She tapped the dark metal next to the screen. ¡°Weirdly, he¡¯s still more flesh than you or me. By mass at least.¡±


    ¡°Me as well. I believe the three of us are very close to the most digital beings aboard the ship.¡± With a presence as hard to notice as his, Isham could just melt into the scenery. Right up until he spoke.


    ¡°Vora and McRory. Nathaniel droned them?¡±


    ¡°Better than that!¡± Kirk winked and McRory did a little dance. ¡°I can see and feel stuff from their perspectives and everything.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s cast into them?¡± She looked over at Gaz. ¡°How was this worth only four points?¡±


    So many emotions. Curiosity about the process of turning McRory and Vora into puppets, hooking into Kirk a caster. Then there was a bit of jealousy. Her new body was fancy and nice. But Alaya wanted two. For no particular reason get your mind out of the gutter! And finally there was the fear, which won out over the others.


    The fear told her how dangerous this was. Casting was the purview of the elite. Or maybe the elite¡¯s elite. It should have been so far outside of their pay grade.


    ¡°Tell me about the seed mission again.¡±


    Gaz and Isham had been collecting intelligence on their target since arriving at Nathaniel¡¯s ship. The things they¡¯d learned just from the dossier put a potential price on their heads. That little issue came up first. Their contract and the associated files had been filled to the brim with explicit NDAs and various forms of secrecy clauses. In short they¡¯d determined if anyone on their team leaked the details of the Root Clergy¡¯s seed transport network or project, there was a decent chance the whole team and most of their loved ones would suffer terminal accidents. It was surprisingly hypocritical for a group of priests who forbade the taking of life on their precious tree stations.


    On a regular basis the dossier did not disclose, seeds traveled from a Root station across the solar system either to a different station to to help establish a new station entirely. Diversity in genome had a premium among the clergy, so they mixed their vegetation samples frequently. Most people knew nothing about the process or the fact the clergy shipped seeds in the first place. Speculation existed, of course, but even on the various Nets they¡¯d checked, no one knew the real details or was willing to discuss it.


    Not just one, but several seeds had gone missing recently. All of them either bound for or sent from the Root at Riggon¡¯s Cluster.


    There was the first complication. Alaya noticed it immediately, as did everyone else on the crew. Even Kirk had commented on it. The only way someone could have known about the seed network and known enough to steal them both inbound and outbound, was for that person to be a clergy member.


    None of the seeds had been recovered thus far. And the dossier did not make clear what the clergy had tried. Presumably some kind of theurgy. Maybe they¡¯d sent paid assassins for all Alaya knew. Neither Gaz nor Isham had turned up more information in the course of their investigations.


    After the enormous fee they¡¯d been given, the degree to which the clergy controlled information on their affairs made this mission just a bit more nerve wracking than it started out.


    ¡°The only good news is that we know where the seed is and don¡¯t think it will be moving any time soon.¡± Alaya poked her finger at the station she looked at. They¡¯d cast into the simulation for their discussion. The five of them sitting around a map of the cluster in discussion.


    A miniature dragon flew by, sparkling with inner light, a feature of the simulation which marked the various ships with colors to distinguish them. Though the design bore the marks of master craftsmanship, it was clearly a ship. Many of the scales had fallen off and had been painted back in place. Where the mouth opened a large canon sat. Curious, Alaya zoomed in on the canon with spare cycles. Plasma generation and arcane compression. It was an Arc canon, rarer than a Technomancer, like the company who¡¯d made Gaz¡¯s chassis, the group who¡¯d produced the Arc canon had aimed at cracking through the hulls of the premiere ship of the line produced by MilCas at the time. Not the best goal for long-term survival. In the case of the company, Qione Enterprises ¡ª she¡¯d had to look it up ¡ª MilCas had absorbed them and bought back all of the Arc weaponry produced. Clearly not all of it.


    Unlike the post-production modifications Nathaniel had made to the Mousehome, the Arc canon in the dragon¡¯s head had clearly been added later. Much of the housing overflowed the dragon¡¯s head and gave it a cobbled-together appearance.


    Back at conversational speeds, Gaz pulled up the map of the facility which held the seed. According to their information, this group was a splinter fact of the Root clergy. Technically the dossier had not used the word ¡°splinter¡± that had been Alaya¡¯s contribution to the discussion.


    ¡°The splinter sect holds the area around the station. But their teams are disguised as haulers, drifting satellites and decommissioned one-person ships. A small cloud of red surrounded the toroid Alaya had poked. Cloud aside, it resembled a wheel missing its central axis. Two interconnected cylindrical rings spun through the cluster with its little defensive satellites in place. ¡°They cannot teleport the seed, so it would have to leave on a transport. Something at least at large as our ship would be needed to move it.¡±


    This was why the clergy were so sure the seed was still there. Nothing big enough to haul it had left the place. Another one of Nathaniel¡¯s helpful modifications of their ship gave them a cargo bay large enough to accommodate the seed and still be able to move around in it.


    Gaz continued.¡°We have to break through the cordon, find the seed on the station, and get out with it.¡±


    ¡°I feel like they should have paid us more.¡± Alaya wanted to groan. Nothing about this was simple. And it had the feeling of the kind of job that would just get worse. Of course every job she¡¯d taken in the last cycle has spun out of control.


    The dossier offered them one more resource: a cleric unaffiliated with the Root who would assist them in dealing with the theurgical resistance. They needed ten or twenty more clerics. Not one.


    Evan said. ¡°If it helps, there are no Technomancers aboard the station. And if they employ standard station or ship systems then¡­ well you can imagine.¡±


    Between Gaz and Evan there weren¡¯t many control systems Alaya worried about. ¡°But you can¡¯t slip us through their sensor net or something like that.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± Evan put his hand on his chin. His form in the simulation was much like it had been when she first met him: a white metal figure with seam lines running over his body. ¡°If we fired ourselves in suits at the station, yes.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just hide the whole ship?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He sounded frustrated with himself. ¡°Perhaps a pure arcanist or a Technomancer with a different specialty could.¡±


    Good to know such powers existed. Also terrifying. ¡°That¡¯s not off the table though.¡± The others looked at her askance, except for Isham. ¡°I mean using Evan to shoot one or two of us with him.¡±


    Kirk, who looked exactly like he¡¯d looked in life here in the simulation, down to the stains on his overalls right before the accident, snapped his fingers. ¡°Two of us, of course. Vora, Isham, Evan.¡±


    ¡°I was going to suggest myself, but Vora should come along too.¡±


    That suggestion started a small row.


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason for you to head down in the first team!¡± Gaz lodged the first objection.


    Evan said, ¡°it is inadvisable for you to endanger yourself.¡±


    Gaz and Kirk both pointed at him. Isham had no comment. Alaya had looked at him for too long because he eventually said, ¡°I do not care. If you want my tactical assessment, the correct person to send is Alaya.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± The way Gaz said it made it sound like Alaya would have been a liability.


    ¡°Hey!¡± She stood up onto the tips of her mousey toes. ¡°I¡¯m more than capable, thank you.¡± Especially with her shiny new chassis. ¡°But also, I wanna know what Isham thinks.¡±


    He didn¡¯t actually sigh in the simulation, but the pause and the way his shoulders moved gave Alaya the impression his somatic body had done just that. ¡°Two reasons. First, the Technomancer is the most effective defense and healing aid for Alaya for at least ten AU. Second, she possesses a set of¡­ attitudes which lend themselves to the role.¡± Before anyone could ask him to elaborate, especially Alaya, he raised his hand. ¡°If you don¡¯t understand, I cannot explain it further.¡±


    Evan winced and said, ¡°I can think of a good reason to keep Gaz aboard the Mousehome: the ship may very well be boarded or attacked on approach, regardless of what we do on the station.¡±


    Right. Unless every ship orbiting around that station was unmanned or their sensors were locked out by the station ¡ª something unlikely ¡ª then there would be living captains aboard those ships asking questions, making challenges the Mousehome couldn¡¯t answer, and generally complicating their lives. General stand down orders issued from base for a single approaching ship were unlikely to work. Unless¡­¡±Do we know what the seeds look like?¡± It took Alaya a second to call up an image. ¡°We do.¡±


    They might be able to steal this without the splinter cult even discovering it before it was far too late.


    With the frame of a plan in place, they continued vectoring generally toward their target. A straight line would have given them away, so they settled on a data farm close, but not adjacent to their target. It had been a flimsy excuse, but when they¡¯d offered up Alaya and Gaz¡¯s coding expertise, most of it legit, the farm ship had offered them positions right away.


    It was the first time learning any details about the reputation and currency system of the cluster. PDP - Parker¡¯s Data Processing - sold cycles, data, and various Net services to nearby ships and even remote parts of the cluster. They earned a reputation point every standard year, but a bundle of no-cost services, benefits and other enticements to encourage employees to sign on. Best of all, there was no penalty for breaking the employment contract, as long as they didn¡¯t leave any work pending.


    They left the ship in a follow course with Isham, Evan and Kirk still on board. The latter of their team accompanied them in a small drone secreted in Gaz¡¯s body. Alaya had flat refused to hold onto that drone.


    PDP used a simulation system to hook employees into their data stream. Gaz and Alaya fell right in. Among other things, the simulation system prevented from fraternizing directly and allowed the company to fully monitor employee activity while in possession of corporate data. Nothing which passed through Alaya¡¯s processors contained the smallest hint of secret. Not an unexpected policy for new employees.


    Those new implants and additions Nathaniel gave her became critical here. Alaya left herself plugged into the corporate simulation network and also ambulatory. Such implants were rare enough corporations out in the cluster had not quite caught on. Or the decision regarding what to do was stuck in committee somewhere. Thus she explored.


    Most of the ship¡¯s interior was the standard blank metal with AR projections overlain. It was the cheapest solution possible: force cybernetic employees to activate their AR systems or face unremarkable grey day and day out. As to baseline employees, Alaya doubted the company had many of those considering their business and aesthete.


    Unfortunately cheap solutions meant Alaya could not find a vantage point on the ship to either activate sensors or just look outside. She¡¯d plotted a course out of the ship and aimed at their target station as soon as she¡¯d boarded and confirmed the interior schematics against her scans. She even reached the bulkhead airlocks in several locations ¡ª backups were important ¡ª but couldn¡¯t proceed further without tripping security.


    From the moment she¡¯d entered the ship, Alaya had been releasing her nano drones in discrete swarms. Gaz had been doing the same thing. It gave Alaya a chance to compete with her friend after that little insult in their planning session. And still Gaz had managed to show her up.


    The PDP ship was distressingly old. Old enough the AI pilot was baby-stupid and incapable of handling security all alone. A separate, human-managed system controlled security and the airlock controls were the nearly ancient system requiring an actual lever to be pulled or pushed rather than a simple button. The only way the airlocks would open remotely was if they redesigned the system. Who installed airlocks like this? Even the old cylinder where Alaya had grown up used digital airlock controls.


    Alaya¡¯s nanite systems were capable of many things, but they were not capable of moving a larger object like a lever. Gaz¡¯s nanites on the other hand could do even more. She didn¡¯t give details, but Gaz had assured Alaya the airlocks would open when it was time. It stewed Alaya to think about it.


    They were best friends. Gaz was Alaya¡¯s oldest friend. She might have even been Alaya¡¯s only friend. Alaya considered Kirk a ¡°friend¡± in the sense she¡¯d feel bad about spacing him if she had to. Isham was a work colleague and Evan¡­ Evan was super helpful right now. And would remain so for exactly as long as it served Janice¡¯s interests.


    Gaz was the only person in the verse Alaya trusted. She was the only person Alaya cared about enough to compete with in the first place. It would have been nice to win once in a while.

 Chapter 16 - Gaz

    Deep undercover meant while Gaz and Alaya could live together and spend time outside of work, they could not regularly contact their ship or crew, not with details of their heist. The plan they¡¯d laid out before established timescales, ways to pass information without catching the eye of an attentive signal watcher, and the means for either team to pull the emergency brake and evac.


    Gaz¡¯s bad feelings about this job had persisted. Her hand hovered over the virtual abort button constantly. With Alaya¡¯s life on the line, it had been a quick and easy decision to take this mission. But now that she had Alaya¡¯s life in her own hands and the mission underway¡­ the conviction something was going to go wrong only got stronger.


    Their day job was tedious, easy, and inconsequential. It had taken Gaz minutes to observe they were being monitored for security, training, and metrics purposes. All of the work they did had already been done by someone else. This was, in effect, a trial period in their employment during which the company decided whether Alaya and Gaz were worth the time.


    Based on the flow of work coming in, Gaz worried they¡¯d already drawn the attention of someone in upper management. Their work had grown more complicated quickly, though still old, non-secure, and clearly handled by another group before it arrived with Gaz and Alaya.


    Alaya hadn¡¯t noticed, but that might have been because she had a fork running the simulation tasks for her. Now that she¡¯d seen the systems and had infected them with her own nanites, Gaz¡¯s systems would start to evolve the multi-casting capabilities Alaya possessed. It was simply a matter of time. Hard to say how long, but hopefully not enough time for Gaz to need to employ those implants here at PDP.


    Every time Alaya stepped out of the simulation ¡ª at the start of every work day ¡ª Gaz¡¯s output slightly dropped. It was hard for her to stringently monitor her own processes when Alaya endangered herself, even distantly. It had gotten far harder after Bahl-Mau.


    Alaya rejoining her fork in the simulation had a subtle tell, one only Gaz really knew. When she stepped in, her blinking went off rhythm for a while. She sent a quick one line message to Gaz, the kind that would only dock them a minute or two from their shift.


    ¡°Lunch? 12:03 on the dot.¡±


    Mission was on. 3:05 PM. Right before their shift ended for the day. Systems kicked in and began full-body last minute checks. Scenarios played out at the level of her subconsciousness while Gaz committed her active processes to her work. Slacking now might bring attention to her. No reason for that.


    The two of them logged out at 2:55 and Gaz started a series of microsecond clocks, all of them synced with Alaya and the others. Outward comms meant they¡¯d triggered a security review. But Gaz had already initiated her morphic transformation: into a streamlined, void flight craft capable of carrying one person. This leg of her journey she¡¯d be on her own unless something went wrong. They reached their chosen airlock with minutes to spare. Though they¡¯d be using some propulsion to start their trip, Alaya and the others would be flying dark once they cleared the station¡¯s radar albedo.


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    Gaz hit the door open sequence, triggering the nanites she¡¯d lain throughout the PDP station to start causing security to go crazy, while carefully ensuring the airlocks remained open. The door didn¡¯t budge. Her sequence was correct and the latch didn¡¯t move. Neither did the piezoelectric actuators in the panel release the door.


    Time slid by while Gaz and Alaya troubleshot their door and pursued alternate routes, their coprocessors hitting the red while they planned and formed contingencies. The other airlocks were too far now, in fact time was running out.


    ¡°We got a problem in the airlock.¡± Gaz sent a shortwave to Evan and Isham. ¡°Evan are you onsite and can you check?¡±


    It took precious time for the nano swarms to infiltrate the door. Smashing their way through it was an option, but would have created its own problems. ¡°You have a couple making love in there, they¡¯ve jammed a shim in the activator circuit so it can¡¯t close. Outer door won¡¯t open with the fault detected, but the door won¡¯t register as open to the sensors.¡±


    Evan had gone on longer than Gaz needed. Now that she knew where the breech in the door was, she sent her nanoswarms in that direction, seeking out the object jammed in the door controls. It was the size of a card and just as light. The whole thing popped out with a click and the door slid open.


    Two people, mid-coitus screamed at the sight of Alaya and Gaz, surprised by the sudden intrusion.


    It was already 3:07. Their flight window closed in seconds. After everything they¡¯d done here, they wouldn¡¯t have this launch pad a second time. Plus, if PDP had a security arrangement with any nearby ships¡­ this was chance zero.


    Gaz cleared her mind and tried to freeze the two people¡¯s faces in her memory. The woman¡¯s hair was short, shorter than Isham¡¯s. She¡¯d painted the side of her scalp blue and had pulsing light tattoos leading down the front of her body and into her crotch.


    The man was fit, with well-defined muscles one only acquired through fleshfab or serious training. His hair was longer than her¡¯s and he sported a healthy member along with¡­ huh He¡¯d been augmented with male and female primary parts.


    She¡¯d read about the modification, but had never met anyone with it. Now she was about to kill someone with it.


    ¡°Please help me save them.¡± Gaz had dropped into slow time the moment the go hour struck. She wasn¡¯t used to Alaya speaking at pace with her.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°After Bahl-Mau? Please?¡±


    Gaz was stuck. The door slid shut behind them, her spare processors already speeding along on the only timeline where they succeeded at their mission. She was intended to fly back to the Mousehome to rendezvous with the others. Isham and Kirk waited aboard the ship. Well alright then.


    With two aboard her small void ship form, Gaz would have less range than with only one. But she could reach the Mousehome without a problem. At least in theory, assuming nothing else happened. Worst case scenario: she jettisoned mass to push herself the last leg.


    ¡°Thanks Gaz¡­¡± The outer airlock flashed green and the rush of wind being sucked into tanks roared over the rest of Alaya¡¯s words. She hugged Gaz, quickly and kissed her on the cheek. Their lips brushed for the first time ever as outer door opened, Alaya kicked off of the airlock floor, and hit the side of the outer wall with her hand to correct her course. Evan and Vora jumped with her, the three of them only eleven seconds inside of their window.


    Gaz wrapped the screaming pair of nude lovers up and sedated both of them as she formed her impulse jets and launched herself away from PDP. Technically she could have stayed on the ship the whole time. But then Alaya would have been on her own on this mission. And Gaz might have missed that kiss.

 Chapter 17 - Alaya

    Celestial trajectories had been something Alaya¡¯s father had started drilling into her head at a young age. By eight she understood rate change and vector calculus almost as well as him. Today though, with those sweet cyberbrain enhancements, she had a whole series of processors to perform those calculations for her and to offload assimilating the sensory data. The first part, given time, she could have done. The second, not at all.


    Those first two hops off the station were critical, providing most of the momentum which would carry Evan, Alaya, and Kirk-Vora to the Rogue Clergy station. It¡¯s official designation was little more than a series of letter and numbers. Militaries and corporate spies named their stations like that. While still under the cover of the PDP station¡¯s EM shadow, Evan caught Alaya and she felt them tug her faster in the same direction. She¡¯d cost them a little bit of momentum.


    Her systems recalculated the vectors and applied gentle force, along with Vora and Evan, to propel them along. They coordinated their AI and processor support carefully. Too fast and they wouldn¡¯t be able to slow down in time to keep from splatting across the surface of the station and avoid being seen by the hidden patrols. Too slow and they would miss their target entirely and end up hurtling through the void. Likely caught by the same security force they¡¯d been trying to avoid.


    Gaz¡­ No. Keep your head here and now, Alaya. This was dangerous enough with out the distraction.


    Their last course correction and her computer showed yellow-green for their trajectory. They had a seven-second window in which to make contact. And they were going to hit harder than preferred.


    Light shone from behind the PDP station when they cleared its perimeter. Magic shimmered around the three of them. For a moment, the stars and PDP station nearby blurred. And then it returned to normal. Evan said, ¡°I¡¯ve rendered us invisible.


    Coasting on void currents, all sense of movement ceased. Gravity planes, inertial dampeners, and a host of other systems tickled them with parsec long splines. Microvibrations, the song of the cosmos rang through them. Apart from their three tiny lights, they were the only object for a thousand kilometers.


    Alaya had never been so far away from the universe and so oddly connected to two other people. I wish Gaz was here.


    She shut it off and enjoyed the sense of motionlessness her new systems provided. The fine ones could sense the particulars of her acceleration from any angle down to an incredibly small unit. But AI and intermediate controllers interacted with those and Alaya could ignore them for now.


    ¡°It¡¯s weirdly peaceful.¡± Neither Evan nor Alaya spoke, so of course Kirk did. ¡°I like it.¡±


    Alaya chuckled and Evan soon joined her. The two of them were laughing at the irony of Kirk¡¯s words. Either he realized it himself or he simply joined in for the fun of it, but soon all three were laughing. So much tension, it helped to release it.


    Proximity sensors went off in Alaya¡¯s chassis at the same time they must have gone off in Evan and Kirk-Vora¡¯s. It was a free-floating non-bound object; they might have been called comets or asteroids a long time ago. But it was also one of the things Gaz and Isham had tagged as a likely security ship for the station.


    All three fell silent and watched.


    The object had veered off of its usual path to turn toward theirs. Not something they¡¯d seen before. It wasn¡¯t intercepting, but if it was a ship with propulsion, it could turn to intercept on a dime compared to the three of them.


    None of them breathed in the first place, but Alaya had the sense of people holding their breath while crouched in a basement. The monster over the bed moved through the room, its shadow passing over the hiding place. Re-vectoring was impossible. Fire any mass and boom: target on their back, magic or no. Six meters. That was how close they came to the object.


    A giggle escaped Alaya¡¯s throat as they moved away from the object. It made sense for them to use a shifting patrol pattern. And that looked like what it was. But holy fuck.


    None of them spoke the rest of the way. The second gauge ticked all the way down to five by the time they reached their green landing zone.


    Now the force came hard. No baseline would have survived the Gs they suffered as all three spun feet back to the normal and braced for impact as jets redlined and even burned themselves out slowing the three of them down before they hit the side of the station.


    The tap against the hull of their target station would have sounded like a medium sized void impact, a pebble striking a mountain. Unless someone was standing right there. Then they would shit themselves in fear from the sound of the massive horror about to break through. Alaya grinned at the image and held fast to her new gravity plane.


    She was already at work, shedding nanites and dragging the others along the ship¡¯s plate exterior. They were off target and they¡¯d had to burn earlier than ideal. Chances were very good someone out in the security cloud noticed something before Evan¡¯s magical shimmer returned. So Alaya hauled ass.


    Kirk-Vora recovered first ¡ª he didn¡¯t have magic to cast ¡ª pulled away from Alaya, and vanished along the side of the ship. They¡¯d identified three acceptable entrances, and of course their late launch left them with only the C-tier available.


    This airlock came awfully close to a main concourse. After their first misadventure with out of place civilians, Alaya dreaded popping the lock here.


    But three of their near-station objects had veered off course to examine the vector Alaya and her team had used. She was right about their detection abilities: much better than they¡¯d guessed or hoped. At least the security ships were following the trail and not headed straight for them. Moreover, EM traffic and the unchanged patrol patterns of the other security ships suggested the first three were ¡°just looking.¡±


    It¡¯s not too much to hope that stays the same. Alaya reached the airlock and began her infiltration sequence. Evan tapped the door lightly and the interior door sealed itself, vented air out the lock and the outer door opened.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Her pleasure and surprise were short lived. All three of the ships investigating their trajectory turned when the door opened. ¡°Get in get in get in!¡± Alaya shouted to the others and sprinted for the doorway. Evan was still holding onto her, so he reached the lock before it closed.


    Air began to flow back into the area. Not just air, but a powerful soporific chemical. If they¡¯d been foolish enough to remove their suits and breathe the air, they would have shortly passed out.


    ¡°Guys? I¡¯m stuck outside.¡±


    Of course. ¡°Kirk, hit Airlock 2 or find another way in. Stay out of sight and off comms unless it¡¯s an emergency.¡± It was always possible the station could detect the casting signal Kirk and others like him might have employed. Supposedly the very elites who¡¯d designed the system had wanted to make sure it was untraceable. Hopefully that claim was true.


    Alaya and Evan braced themselves. Venting knockout gas into the chamber meant the station knew or suspected someone was inside. Of course the door didn¡¯t open when the pressure normalized. ¡°I guess you can do something about this, right?¡±


    Evan didn¡¯t say anything. He just laid a hand on the inner door and blew out a steady breath. It rolled open with a hiss. No line of guards stood on the other side waiting to murder the two of them. Instead it was just a lone priest. She looked like a member of the Root Clergy. Which meant she was one of the rogues.


    ¡°The two of you do not belong upon this station. Please allow us to escort¡­¡± The woman took Evan¡¯s palm strike to the chest. She gained a foot of altitude as her feet left the ground and she sailed back into the ornate wood floor behind her.


    ¡°Baseline? I couldn¡¯t sense a wire.¡±


    The priest didn¡¯t move from the spot on the hall where she landed. ¡°I think you broke her anyway.¡±


    I hope she¡¯s not dead. Alaya kept her thought to herself as they trudged onward. By now, the whole place would be alerted. The plan was somewhere around C and they were running behind in more ways than one.


    A hand snaked out and grabbed Alaya¡¯s ankle as she passed the woman. Lines of pink and lavender force, like electricity crawled up her leg as she tried to shake it off. ¡°Friend, why must you bring such trouble upon yourself. Surrender or help me subdue your companion.¡±


    Right. There was no reason for Alaya to do this. The priests here were her friends. She could just ask them for the seed and they would give it to her. But she needed to stop Evan from attacking one of them. Otherwise they might be upset.


    His face had gone still, as if in the working of some kind of magic. Whatever it was put her new friend at risk. Alaya sprang toward Evan and hit him with a arm bar across the throat. It had nothing to do with trying to hurt his chassis. That took too much force, the kind which might hurt him. No, she needed to make contact with his skin so she could¡­


    ¡°Oh how adorable.¡± Evan¡¯s voice rolled through Alaya¡¯s electronics.


    No, you¡¯re going to ruin it all, Evan! Her digital systems surrendered to Evan¡¯s influence and she stopped moved.


    ¡°Sorry about that. Good to know what she did to you. Be right back.¡± It all happened at the microsecond scale, from the moment she¡¯d touched him skin to skin, or rather chassis to chassis.


    He barked something, short and clipped. As he finished his shout, Evan jumped forward, trying to move down the hallway from the priestess.


    She¡¯d cast something else in the meantime, something Alaya couldn¡¯t identify as it had no obvious effect other than her bowed head and clasped hands. Her eyes tracked something other than Evan¡¯s body, curling her finger in and giving a cry which sounded like ¡°sophia¡± to Alaya.


    Branches, splinters and pieces of wood flew out of the floor, swirling into a spiked vortex as it tried to envelop Evan. A blue magical sphere hopped out the vortex and struck Alaya.


    At the exact same time, she regained control over her chassis. That priestess, the nameless one who¡¯d turned that tornado on Evan, was not her friend.


    Alaya left divots in the wood floor between her and Evan¡¯s attacker. With another gesture, a wooden platform rose up between them from the floor, but Alaya blew through that, hardly slowing her charge. Nanites and larger microswarms bled into the air and began feeding on the cellulose and nearby material.


    When she struck the woman, Alaya¡¯s hands tore through her as if she were made from paper, The edges of her form crumpled and revealed a hollow interior. The woman¡¯s cackles echoed, she¡¯d done something similar to what Evan had done.


    But¡­ she¡¯d made a mistake in the process. Those nanites feeding on the material swarmed her along with the larger machines. Then the nanites initiated a spark which then ignited the larger microswarm.


    One millisecond Alaya could sense the woman¡¯s outline from the location of her swarms. The next most of those swarms vanished as the woman grew an aura of flame. She screamed, a short gasp, before the intensity of the fires killed her.


    Alaya knew she¡¯d died because the tornado holding Evan ended. He looked fine, though frustrated when he dropped to the ground.


    ¡°That was an annoying spell.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were dead.¡±


    He snorted. ¡°It didn¡¯t even hurt me. Not a scratch. But it held me in place well enough. And kept me from calling out. Glad I managed to dispel you or we might have been screwed.¡±


    Magic went mostly over Alaya¡¯s head. ¡°Yay. Glad I¡¯m not her slave anymore.¡±


    ¡°That was just a¡­ never mind. We need to find the conn. Quick, before more of them show.¡±


    Already running, already using the floor plan they¡¯d scanned from a distance, Alaya and Evan ran. If they didn¡¯t give the Mousehome a path into the station, they¡¯d fail their mission.


    Two priests stood outside the entrance to the control area of the station. Unlike the woman Alaya had set ablaze, these guys looked like they¡¯d been warriors for a long time. Baseline and ancient, they moved and talked like teenagers despite the wrinkles and liver spots.


    This is why we needed Vora. Kirk was out in the wind right now, hopefully safe. Much of the interior of the station was made from wood, dyed or stained in various ways, but none of it painted to obstruct the grain. It would have been an extravagant expense if not for the fact the priests probably had wood on demand. Where were they getting it?


    ¡°They¡¯ll probably see me on approach. Can you protect me from their mind shenanigans?¡± Alaya tapped Evan and spoke directly to him.


    ¡°I can. We¡¯ll do that now and then start the fight with surprise and magic. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Ready.¡± They were around a corner, in what looked like a prayer alcove.


    Evan spoke softly in a language Alaya¡¯s translation software couldn¡¯t decode. A pale blue light covered her. ¡°It¡¯s not completely certain. Disable the one on the right. I will disable the other one.¡±


    Alaya prepped her weapons and bolted. Her stealth system engaged and she closed the gap between her and the priest on the right. He was utterly baseline, and didn¡¯t react before she¡¯d stabbed him. She didn¡¯t have any ways to disable people non-lethally.


    Neither did Evan, who led with a spear of light which pierced the priest in the chest. He closed with the priest and drove his hand into the wound. At the same time, Evan struck him in the throat repeatedly, clearly stopping him from casting. The fifth hit made the made spasm and Evan dropped him.


    They¡¯d barely made a sound as they dragged the corpses back into he same alcove and slid into the conn room.


    The two people within must have been technicians or junior priests because they hardly put up any resistance before Alaya and Evan killed them. With Evan¡¯s help, they had control over the station in minutes. The rogue priests had a remarkably straightforward computing system, with segregated systems for data storage, environmental, and security.


    She¡¯d pinpointed the security controls and taken them over as part of her first infiltration, but Alaya¡¯s nanites began the process of taking over the other two systems, just slower than she did the first one. The instant security was under her control, she released her pre-set package into their systems.


    Outside things would get interesting as the disparate field of patrol ships started detecting each other as hostile targets. How many would fire on or disable each other before they stopped entirely? Alaya didn¡¯t want to watch them kill each other, but she had to know whether it was working.


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    Scanners showed her something strange.


    The ships weren¡¯t attacking each other the way she¡¯d expected. Instead, they were involved in some kind of¡­ conference. Pilots were reporting in all over the station¡¯s security net, acknowledging the error and going manual on their patrols.


    That is weird. Alaya broke open security notices and found the load outs for the usual patrol ship. There was nothing lethal aboard those ships. With their size and class of vessel, the usual load could involve twin railguns or a single powerful and annoying weapon. Not necessarily enough to take a down MilCas fighter-intercepter, but with enough of them coordinating, they could do the job.


    Instead the rogue Root priests had stuck short range EM weapons on the hulls of their fliers which would have to be used in series with other patrol ships to have any effect. Most likely, with the upgrades Nathaniel had added, the Mousehome wouldn¡¯t even be troubled by the attacks.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± They¡¯re ignoring the signals from the station. Was this part of their training?


    No broadcasts left the station now, which gave their operation a timer. But also meant those patrol ships had not alerted a lurking kill team. Or if they had the team hadn¡¯t showed up yet.


    ¡°We¡¯re not encountering the resistance we expected.¡± Evan spoke from where he stood watch a the door. Either we¡¯ve underestimated their response capabilities or we¡¯re missing something.


    ¡°Oh shit oh shit.¡± Alaya pulled up the internal cameras and hunted through cargo areas and secure optics. It only took a few miliseconds, but she¡¯d dumped her system with fear as she reached. There it was: the seed. ¡°No, there it is. Huh.¡± She¡¯d been sure it was a trick.


    Alaya had to wait until the last few bits of the station were under her control before she initiated phase two of their operation. While she waited for her nanosystems to catch up, she plotted an intercept course between their ship and the station. Another weird problem. None of the shafts she¡¯d found would accommodate the seed. ¡°What the crap?¡±


    Evan reached her side. ¡°Show me?¡±¡¯


    She pointed out what she¡¯d found looking for her path. Explaining it brought her stumbling to a revelation: everything between the seed and the dock was wood. ¡°The priests can control the wood. They move it out of the way to get the seed in.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe they use their powers to move the seed in the first place.¡±


    Alaya grumbled. Parts of this job were frustrating. But a lesson from her father¡¯s knee came back to her. At a certain point, something might just be junked. Better to take a saw to it and get the surviving parts out than let it rot. ¡°I guess we use the hammer.¡±


    The specifications for the seed had been etched in her mind after hours upon hours of planning around this heist. It would survive the void, no problem. But it would not survive a fire. Fortunately, Alaya controlled the station security and could even override a few internal systems by pre-breaking them.


    ¡°Hammer?¡± Alaya shot Evan a rough 3d schematic of her plan. ¡°Wow¡­ I do not want to know what you think a screwdriver does.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Kirk. If he¡¯s on that side of the station.¡±


    ¡°We can broadcast on short now, but we want to keep it min.¡±


    Their little section of this station, split from the others with metal bulkheads, was now sealed from the rest. Evan and Alaya had a solid, unbroken path between them and the seed. Now all they had to do was open a path to the outside of the station for the Mousehome. Fire aboard a station, or a ship for that matter, was a nightmare. Anyone who spaced it rough knew from personal experience how bad fire was. Starting one on purpose¡­ dick move, but now officially part of their mission.


    When she¡¯d set the priest on fire back in the hall, they hadn¡¯t ignite much of the interior wood. This time Alaya intended to burn the whole thing and keep the seed safe.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try him.¡± They needed Kirk. ¡°Kirk, report. Come back man.¡±


    It was an all-clear code, indicating comms were secure. It wasn¡¯t completely true, but close enough for now. ¡°¡®Laya! Shit¡¯s been real out here!¡±


    ¡°Oh good, tell me where you are.¡±


    He described a part of the station not far from where they needed the hull blown.


    Back in the early days of void travel, people thought void ships came in ¡°peaceful¡± or ¡°disarmed¡± forms. No such thing. An object capable of escaping Earth¡¯s gravity was generally capable of wiping out all life on it, just by nudging a big enough rock on an collision course. Or they could vent their engines and ignite their fuel. Once those ships ran atomic, venting fuel could virtually sterilize a planet without breaking so much as a pane of glass.


    Cyber bodies had been perceived the same way when they first landed on the scene. Sometimes clunky, sometimes utterly inhuman, often suited to some mundane purpose, nonetheless every single one of the machines was a weapon. Usually the most dangerous weapon in its theater of action. And like those spacecraft, cyborgs had a lot of different ways to kill their targets. Modern cyborgs like Vora were walking explosive devices.


    Between Alaya and Evan, they managed to get enough explosive charges out of Vora¡¯s ballistic magazines chassis to crack the hull. In combination with Alaya¡¯s microswarms going to work thermally, multiple AI passes gave them a high chance of blowing out the hull without damaging the seed.


    ¡°Fuck it, that¡¯s what we¡¯re doing then.¡± Alaya¡¯s secondary nanoswarms finished taking over the rest of the station¡¯s computers systems. Kirk was already in motion setting charges and checking their calculations while Alaya set an AI to scan the new systems and generate an abstract. Simultaneously she sent a short ¡°go¡± burst to the Mousehome, including an encoded message detailing the course and conditions. There was no way to get communication back from the ship, so Alaya had to wait for the scanners to pick up her movement.


    They¡¯d expected this process to go down with the two of them under siege. Other than the small scale fights they¡¯d had so far, Alaya and Evan had found this almost relaxing. Even those¡­ the first priestess had been the hardest to deal with. But something bothered Alaya about that fight the same way something bothered her about the mission.


    Too late to worry about that now, the Mousehome blipped into the station¡¯s security net. At once Alaya sent out the patrol routes and tracking information for the Root scouts. A few tried to intercept the ship, but those EM weapons did nothing compared to the defensive plating on the hull. None of the nearby ships objected to the initiation of conflict by those security patrols. Either the weapons they were using did not count or who¡¯d initiated hostilities wasn¡¯t clear. That proceeded according to plan as well.


    Alaya started the burn before Kirk cleared the blast zone. Alarms shrieked through the facility, announcing the impending flames and warning the residents. Until she¡¯d stopped them, the security alerts had sent the bulk of the station¡¯s personnel into their quarters. But the fire alarms sent them racing out to fight the danger. Only to find the metal bulkheadcutting them off.


    Igniting the wooden interior of the ship required more nano and micro drones than she¡¯d anticipated. Even that didn¡¯t really slow her down as once the wood did catch, it burned gloriously, without energy added. Soon she¡¯d created a virtual cavern in the side of the station filled with smoke and ash. The wood didn¡¯t all burn, but the essential supports had.


    A syncopated dance of fire and explosions followed. Brief bursts of air sent the tails of the flames bouncing and frolicking. Then the interior of the station took a breath, tanks reaching a phase change. In milliseconds, Alaya lost optics in that section of the ship. From outside the stream of fiery debris flooding from of the station. The whole thing shook as if rammed. In a way, it had been rammed, by itself.


    Alaya had visuals courtesy of standby drones, back in the seed¡¯s storage room in moments. Her own drones had kept the seed unburnt and safe. They¡¯d missing a single wall between the void and the seed, better than Alaya could have hoped for. Bad news for the station though: alarms blared in every section. They¡¯d lost propulsion, O2 and water recyke, and critical systems had redlined. Written clear as day in the rhythms of the data from which she supped: this station had entered its eclipse phase. Like a viral load infecting its host, the moment Alaya and Evan touched down here, the ship had already died.


    They raced through the hallways toward the broken section. Crossing their own cordon, Alaya had a first-hand glimpse at what they¡¯d wrought. Two people lay crushed beneath twisted metal, their arms severed and laying on the wood floor amidst a pool of blood and splintered wood. The third gasped not far from the other two, her chest pinned under a mass of rubble.


    Evan didn¡¯t even pause. It looked as though he¡¯d simply opened his hand in the woman¡¯s direction from her gross senses. But in slow time with her enhancements, Alaya spotted a little black puff, a spell being cast, as the woman died. It was a mercy.


    All of these people were baseline, fully so.


    No one accosted them or even approached the two. All of them had the more pressing business of survival before them. Not so with Alaya and Evan.; they had a job. Where the bulkhead started, a long wall of warped metal, Alaya¡¯s optics circled several different holes venting air to the void.


    Evan held his hand on the metal panel next to the door and it sparked and shook in a valiant attempt to respond to Evan¡¯s commands. It did not succeed.


    One food braced behind her and the other loose, Alaya slammed her heel into the door with the full force of her lower cyborg frame. The door folded inward, but didn¡¯t let go. Air howled out of the gaps, but not quite fast enough to make this harder.


    With a glance toward Evan, who nodded toward her, Alaya slammed her foot into the door and it flew off its hinges along with Alaya and Evan. She got a hand on his coat before they hit vacuums so the two of them tumbled out into space as a single inertial object. They smacked into the side of Mousehome rather unceremoniously.


    At least they weren¡¯t hurt.


    Coordinates already with the crew, Gaz, Isham, and Kirk all witnessed Alaya and Evan¡¯s graceless fall.


    ¡°You two okay?¡± Of course it was Kirk who asked.


    Gaz and Kirk clearly laughed at them, Isham simply watched. ¡°We¡¯re fine. We getting this thing?¡±


    With a cheeky eyebrow raise, Gaz folded her arms and the ship flew back a few meters. She¡¯d smashed her way into the seed storage area and exposed it to the void. Isham and Gaz kicked off the ship with Kirk-McRory in tow, all three headed for the newest hole in the rogue station. Meanwhile Alaya and Evan recovered and eventually fired their own impulse systems.


    Another reason for doing so much damage and breaking this section of the ship: it was easier to move the seed with the local grav field offline.


    McRory managed the heavy lifting while Gaz and Isham provided corrections. Kirk-Vora appeared next to Alaya, almost giving her a start. ¡°Hey Kirk.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, but it was funny.¡±


    It took Alaya a beat to catch his meaning. Funny how seeing Kirk in McRory¡¯s body disassociated him from the Kirk in Vora¡¯s body. All three, meat, breaker, and sneak, were the same person. But still inarguably different. ¡°Yeah, we weren¡¯t aiming for the side of the ship.¡±


    ¡°And that makes it better.¡± Kirk grinned at her from Vora¡¯s face, his screen changing to display Kirk¡¯s own digital face. ¡°I¡¯m flipping the ship around to make loading easier.¡±


    No longer needed outside, Alaya and Evan pushed inside of their own ship and felt the return of gravity bite into the soles of their feet and trail up their legs. The action, if there was any, would occur back in the cargo section of the ship. Alaya arrived to find the bay already open and a suspension field in place to keep their precious air from leaking out.


    Gnarled bits of hard, wood-like carapace, knotted and twisted with what might have been words etched into its surface, the seed loomed large as it approached their dock. It looked somewhat like an image of an old Earth walnut or pecan.


    It probably wouldn¡¯t taste very good.


    Suspensors caught the seed as it entered their ship¡¯s gravity plane. The weight increased and Alaya kept her eye on the load on those systems. They could use them for a short time without overloading, but with over-spec masses like that the suspensor sucked down a logarithmically growing amount of power. When the full mass hit their ship, they had to modulate their suspensors or risk burning them out and dropping the seed entirely.


    Kirk played the various onboard systems like a pro-gamer. He¡¯d been clearly practicing in slow time in sim. Good on him.


    The massive hunk of organic matter came to rest on the dock with barely a tremor through the deck. Once in place, they planned to lock it down with netting, small scale suspensors, and converted docking clamps.


    Alaya had been the one elected to put everything in place around the seed. Evan was their other option, but if the seed did something to her, Evan was the only person who could fix it. Kirk was out because there was a chance the effect could transit the casting system and affect someone hardwired into the ship. Isham and Gaz were out because no one relished the idea of fighting them if it came to that and they lacked enough organic matter anyway. Alaya didn¡¯t understand why Evan thought that mattered, but she¡¯d come to trust him.


    She grumbled to herself as she hupped the padding they¡¯d printed out for the docking clamps to grab onto the seed. ¡°If it was so important not to damage this thing, you could have sent the promised fucking assistance.¡± They were already underway, leaving the scene of the crime as the station was being evacuated. The station¡¯s security black box wouldn¡¯t contain a single image of their ship, or their crew. Their mission was a success. ¡°Even if the fucking Root priests didn¡¯t completely hold up their end.¡±


    After what ten points of reputation had been worth, Alaya considered them square. Not that she wouldn¡¯t ask for a rep bonus to make up for the trouble. If they said no and apologized, she¡¯d relent and still be happy.


    It¡¯d be nice if my galactic creditors held the same view. ¡°Will you ever settle your debt? No. Okay, we¡¯ll call it a loss.¡±


    A personal suspensor lifted her up next to the mottled shell, here it shone with a thin, oily film. Alaya could almost see her chassis¡¯s face in it. Mental commands to the dock arm made it rise exactly where Alaya had intended. These new systems had subtle, incredibly useful advantages.


    And if she¡¯d been using slow time or paying more attention she wouldn¡¯t have let her hand slip off the padding to touch the surface of the seed.


    Images filled her mind at once, as if memories were being injected into her cores. It was a¡­ no it was many minds-full of data. Again, Nathaniel¡¯s upgrades saved her from a complete cerebral crash and possible system damage. Storage intended to expand and adapt as she aged absorbed the gestalt mental echoes of several hundred minds.


    The force of the intrusion acted like a shock. In less time than it took electrons to bridge a potential, Alaya¡¯s cores filled and she blew back into the side of the dock.


    Yellow alerts flew by, not one of them red. Organics were clean and safe, preserved behind walls and walls of protection. Her cognitive core was also green. But the load on her processors had knocked a few offline, including the ones supposed to be in charge of reviewing the data she¡¯d taken from the Rogue station.


    ¡°¡­okay?¡±


    External sensors were the most damaged, and those were already self-repairing. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± her voice was tinny and whined with a digital leak, ¡°not¡­ great.¡±


    Proprioception and positioning services came on second. Someone, based on the sound, Gaz, had picked Alaya and had carried her¡­ somewhere.


    Everything flashed and Alaya stood a strange shadowed place. A warehouse lit overhead with fogged green lights, dotted with odd little creeping arms rising out toward the exterior of the ship. Air, blown by a powerful system, hissing and clicked over the warehouse. Muck clung to her feet, as if someone had left the floor here unmaintained for decades, like the ship where her parents had died. Maybe that was where she was? A cylinder ship intended to hold these weird¡­


    Fog swirled about her when Alaya reached out to the twisted pillars. Their surface was a streaked and pitted mess, like steel dribbled with acid down the surface. Darkened like soot, the exterior might have been burned too.


    Finally, the air here reminded Alaya distantly of that old moldering cylinder. It lacked the intensity of that rancid atmosphere but the reek of fungus and algae could not have been more clear to her nose. But something positively alluring hovered in the air, mixed with the stench of filth. What is that?


    ¡°Do you know what these are called?¡±


    Alaya screamed and twisted away from the black-hooded figure who appeared next to her suddenly. None of her internal systems responded to the spike in her adrenaline. In fact¡­ none of them responded at all. ¡°What the fuck, what the fuck!¡±


    Again, he closed with her and clasped his hand around her wrist. When he did, his head and face came into view. Gnarled old features, not unlike the surface of the seed greeted her eyes. His sockets though, they were empty. Only white light shone there. She tried to scream again and pull away, but he held fast and shook her like an angry hound. ¡°I asked you a question, girl.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the one who decides whether you leave this place alive or dead.¡±


    That was what Alaya needed to hear. Her right arm locked down, she pulled again on the man and he jerked at her. This time she rolled into the motion jumping at the man and driving her free elbow into the space between his chin and chest.


    She hit a soft target with the spear tip of her elbow, but the man laughed. Still holding her arm, he rolled and forced her over onto her side. Another shout and he ended up atop her, pinning her hips by sitting on her. ¡°There. Will you answer my question now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re fucking talking about or where we are!¡±


    ¡°She does not know the wood.¡± The twin white lights bobbed under the man¡¯s hood. ¡°And she does not know the ancient places.¡±


    ¡°What are you¡­ mrphm mrphm.¡± She bit the hand that covered her mouth, but the man didn¡¯t react. He tasted funny, almost like coffee.


    Another voice spoke, this one female. ¡°And she does not know to keep the silence.¡±


    Seconds passed as the hooded man kept his hand over Alaya¡¯s mouth and held her on the weirdly mushy ground. This time a third voice interrupted. ¡°The testing is not concluded. Proceed.¡±


    Deep sigh from the guy holding her and he said, ¡°and what do you know of the old stories, the ways before Earth hatched? Do you know the hooded man or the song of the green?¡±


    This time Alaya quirked her head and nodded. It sounded like a story mother had told her. Besides, if she¡¯d understood what was happening so far, they would kill her if she didn¡¯t give them some kind of answer.


    ¡°Tell me.¡± The man removed his hand.


    ¡°I was eight¡­ there was hooded man, Robert Hood¡­¡± Alaya had preferred the stories of exploration and adventure to the ones about injustice and money and stuff. ¡°He had a band and I think he saved a bunch of people?¡±


    Mr two lights frowned at her, but looked up as if awaiting and answer from the green fog. Alaya opened her mouth to say something clever, but he jammed his palm over her mouth before she managed it.


    ¡°We are reminded of the early days, the first to be touched. She is accepted among us, but her path will be one of thorns and blood, not flower and art. Release her and let her live. We have spoken.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you guys!¡± Alaya came up from her seated position and almost rammed her head into Gaz¡¯s. Emergency slowdown circuits fired and her AI assistant determined she didn¡¯t really intend to smash her head. So she stopped short.


    Gaz blinked. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°No no, not you. What?¡± Alaya blinked through the confusion. A UI overlay had returned to her vision. Fewer yellow alerts flashed in the corner of her sight and all of her sensory systems had come back online. Her data banks were still chock full of memories she hadn¡¯t made. The dock platform supported Alaya and someone had moved her away from the wall to where she could move freely.


    Evan stood by and Alaya could sense the vague passage of his touch. He was the reason so many of her systems had gone back to normal so quickly.

 Chapter 18 - Gaz

    ¡°We should never have let her near that thing.¡± If Gaz stood as she spoke, it would give the wrong impression. ¡°Next time it will be me.¡±


    ¡°Next time? Why would we touch it again?¡± He clasped his hands and said, ¡°I¡¯m just glad she¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°You said she had someone else¡¯s memories in her storage.¡±


    ¡°And now I wish I hadn¡¯t said that because you are acting very irrationally.¡± This time Evan wrinkled his nose at her and leaned in. ¡°You¡¯re acting strange in general.¡±


    There in the mess, Gaz stilled herself and knew at once Evan had seen it. A plain white table creaked under the weight of her elbows, the edge of the soup at the bottom of her bowl shifted in the direction of Gaz¡¯s seat.


    Why didn¡¯t he just read what he wanted from her? Why not just ask him to examine you? The problem itself shouldn¡¯t have existed in the first place. Her systems were beyond state of the art. Adaptive systems like her should have the general capability of overcoming any fault or external attack, given time. But this¡­


    He waited for her answer less than a second before he returned to the subject of Alaya. ¡°I think her condition is stable and I do not believe there are any long term negative consequences for her.¡± The way he said it: flat gaze and deliberate pauses between his words¡­ he was warning Gaz that Evan intended to protect Alaya. Whatever concern he felt for Gaz¡¯s safety strictly related to that mission.


    Or am I misinterpreting what he¡¯s saying? ¡°Right. So she¡¯ll be fine. How long before we reach the Root?¡± Gaz had three different systems capable of telling her how long before she arrived at the Root, not including the timers she¡¯d set herself.


    ¡°Another three days. Our course looks clear. That¡¯s good news.¡±


    Routes between areas in the cluster changed by the minute. The one they¡¯d plotted took a little longer to return to their origin, but it skirted the new station they¡¯d destroyed on this mission. The rogue outpost exploded less than an hour after Alaya woke up. And of course there was the PDP station, which while not precisely exploded, had experienced some severe issues related to Alaya and Gaz¡¯s time there.


    And then there were the other oddities.


    ¡°Thank you, Evan.¡± She bowed curtly to him and left. He didn¡¯t call out to her or try to question her further. Gaz had dispensed with the need to examine the maps of the ship before the refurbishments had finished. She headed directly for Kirk, where she knew she could examine the information she wanted without filters and get his opinion on her impressions of the battle.


    Billions of sensors and data analysis suites in her body and Gaz could not say precisely how she knew there was a second person in the hangar when she stepped in. Instinct told her it was Vora, or rather Kirk-Vora, but instead she discovered Isham sitting next to Kirk¡¯s sarcophagus, facing the room.


    ¡°Hello Gaz. I wonder if you are here for the same reason I am?¡± He didn¡¯t blink as he looked at her. She suspected he was sim-diving at the same time.


    ¡°I am reviewing the mission recordings.¡± He raised his hands up as if apologizing. ¡°Our leader is injured and recovering.¡±


    Implying this would be her job otherwise. And he¡¯s right. Gaz made a mental note to bring this up to Alaya later. ¡°Mind if I join you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me you should be asking, you know?¡± Kirk¡¯s image appeared on his retro scene.


    ¡°Should I now?¡± Alaya had brought him on, out of guilt for what had happened to the dock jockey. But Kirk had proved himself a hard, reliable worker. And with his implants upgraded and his condition cured, he didn¡¯t need AI support. He¡¯s a member of the crew. It was a strange thought. Had they ever really had a crew before?


    ¡°Yes, because I¡¯m sharing my memories with you people!¡± The face on the screen made a series of exaggerated grimaces.


    ¡°I am very grateful for your contributions.¡± Isham patted the side of the sarcophagus.


    ¡°Me too,¡± Gaz had to smile at them, ¡°but I¡¯ve come with trade. You show me yours and I show you mine.¡±


    Isham¡¯s mouth quirked up, he got it. But Kirk¡¯s digital head just bounced. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just say so!¡± A port opened at the base of his suspension tank. ¡°Plug in whenever you¡¯re ready. Share and share alike.¡±


    Sitting down next to Isham, Gaz plugged into the socket and streamed her consciousness into the same simulation chunk as Kirk and Isham.


    They stood at the end of a bar. Gaz appeared there in the middle of the patrons, the stench of old alcohol leaked between the floorboards and smoke clung to every surface. The air was hazy here, it made Gaz¡¯s nose itch.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Gaz sat down next to Kirk.


    Isham leaned around him and said, ¡°It is a ¡°western¡± bar. Kid has strange ideas.¡±


    Gaz eyed herself in the mirror behind the shelves of spirits. One time, only once had Alaya commented how she liked the way this engineer looked. Gaz had worn this face ever since. Using that as an anchor, she locked her private memories and thoughts down and picked out the memories of the mission. ¡°Oh well, let¡¯s do what we came her for, right?¡±


    The other nodded to her and closed their eyes.


    Kirk ran to keep up with the other two, not that his chassis had any technical issues here, but rather he¡¯d chosen a wide arc to give them room and to allow Vora¡¯s enhancements to function. Gaz found it hard to shut out Kirk¡¯s narration in his own head, so she focused on the environment. The patrol flight lifted up away from the side of the Root station when they didn¡¯t find anything to explain the anomaly they must have detected.


    From the EM shadows of the station, Vora watched those ships return to their patrol pattern. It looked off still, an interdiction pattern intended to keep ships out rather than directly intercept them. This is why it had been so easy to spot their patrols. Why would they want someone attacking their station to know how their security routines worked? Madness.


    Automated security on the hull of the station ignored Vora¡¯s presence as she ¡ª Kirk ¡ª headed for a different airlock. Optics and enhanced EM detectors pinged at the area about him, scanning intensely for other presences. It had felt too easy to Kirk too.


    Gaz really wanted to view this from Alaya¡¯s perspective, or maybe Evan¡¯s.But neither of them would permit intrusion if she asked. Little happened between breaking away from the rest of his team and Kirk receiving the communication from Alaya.


    When Alaya contacted him, he described the ¡°shit as having been real.¡± Gaz didn¡¯t see it. Certainly the ships up in their patrol routes had converged and changed their courses significantly. But at no point was Kirk ever in danger. He wasn¡¯t even static on their sensors.


    Genuine respect surged through Gaz as the young man took charge of the demolition operation with nothing more than Alaya¡¯s schematics and her instructions. Already in motion before he¡¯d finished receiving those notes, he set his personal AI on figuring out how to do it in the first place.


    Out in in the cloud around the station those ships continued their dance. Kirk¡¯s sensors picked up the Mousehome¡¯s movement from the distance, observed the way the patrol ships changed their dispersal pattern when they picked up the coupe¡¯s movement. A captain aboard an out of control ship or someone just wandering where they shouldn¡¯t have, would have quickly and frighteningly found themselves under scrutiny by a dozen fighter craft. Gaz bet no one had ever gotten that far, but not from how those patrols reacted. Professional pilots running well-rehearsed scramble flights had a kind of murderous synergy to their movements, not unlike a dance. And these people had it to spare. Given proper weapons and half a chance¡­ Gaz and the Mousehome should not have breeched this cordon.


    It was like the owners hadn¡¯t cared if the seed were captured.


    When they reached the Root, Gaz intended to express her displeasure with their leadership. Or at the very least demand additional payment for their failure to provide the assistance they¡¯d promised. She really wanted to make sure Alaya would be okay going forward. Demanding further payment could always take the form of an examination, treatment, and clean bill of health for Alaya.


    Kirk crouched inside of an airlock he¡¯d jammed open while the countdown commenced. Out here with his enhanced optics, it was possible for Gaz to check the degree of warping in the station¡¯s hull. The fires had been burning for long enough to ash some of the interior wood. Gaz hadn¡¯t noticed.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    When the explosion shook the station, it sent a proper wave coursing over the skin of the hull. Parts tore out of their moorings, sections of the station simply buckled from within and a piece of the station flipped away, a symbolic egg cracking in the manner of retro sim directors clumsily referencing birth. There was nothing life-giving or affirming about this explosion.


    Gaz had held on to a vague hope she hadn¡¯t killed that many people aboard the station. This explosion was proof of how wrong she¡¯d been. Bodies tumbled out into the void, cast in various orbits and along personal trajectories as their collapsing lungs expelled their death rattles.


    The Mousehome closed in, but was still little more than a fast-moving blip on her optics when a proximity alarm blared. Gaz wasted precious seconds trying to disable the alarm from within the simulation before she cast out.


    The hangar looked normal, except for the emergency alerts and dimmed lighting of battle stations. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    She linked into the ship¡¯s computer to find a fuck-off big ship having translated directly into the cluster through the use of a novel drive system. Their own computer was still running the drive schematics when Gaz was hit with a particularly nasty logic virus. A few seconds delay and that virus would have hit their ship AI unimpeded. Their attackers would have had control over the Mousehome moments after. Gaz was incredibly lucky she was connected directly to the conn right then.


    As it was, Gaz forfeited control over most of her external systems, shutting them down in case she lost actual control over them and they turned on her. It was a pseudo-morphic virus, the kind of thing MilCas would have been very interested in examining. Much like Gaz herself. Despite its complexity, the virus attacking her could not adapt as quickly and thoroughly as Gaz herself could. Defensive anti-intrusion measures soon cleared the last bits of hostile code out of her system and she returned to observing the battle.


    In the second and a half she¡¯d lost, their attackers launched a full battery of anti-ship missiles at them. Traditional navies, sea navies, would sweep their ships around and attempt to catch their opponents in a ¡°broadside:¡± a full battery from half the ship¡¯s canons. Such a positional maneuver was meaningless in space, though often batteries were kept in separate chambers. Their attacker, a Cabalon-class warship ¡ª the kind of thing corporate fleets used as their flagship ¡ª unleashed all of its space and time bound missiles. Anything that might not reach the Mousehome was left in its chamber. It was the void equivalent of a broadside.


    Mousehome was dead. Everyone aboard was dead. Maybe Kirk survived, but there was no point in calculating the odds. They had less than a minute to respond and they possessed neither the PDC or anti-missile lock systems to avoid that mass of explosives. And their shields? Gaz chuckled.


    Whoever sent this flagship ¡ª Nelissan Arms according to the register ¡ª had delivered a fatal blow.


    ¡°Well played.¡±


    Gaz sat back against the wall of the hangar and relaxed. In a way, she was glad Alaya was recovering. She didn¡¯t have to know how the Nissa situation had gotten them killed. Hopefully in the next life, Gaz¡¯s relationship with Alaya would be a little less cursed. Maybe in the next life Gaz could be completely honest with her. It¡¯s a cute wish.


    She turned on every sensor, gathered them to her and watched the 37-strong flight of missiles coming toward her. They¡¯d flown for less than a second before Gaz had downloaded their schematics for review. Marachon Enterprises ¡°Death Eagle¡± class interceptor missiles. With another thirty brains worth of computational power and a few day¡¯s warning, Gaz and the others might have been able to hack them. Their flight control systems were idiotic-simple. Exactly the kind of system which typically revealed its flaws in testing. And these had been thoroughly, repeatedly tested in the field and live.


    So much of her attention had been turned toward the missiles, Gaz caught the targeting EM ping a few miliseconds late. Still, with her senses connected to the full power of the Mousehome¡¯s optics, she enjoyed a front seat to a full spectrum view of a steady fire contained pulse weapon.


    One second the void was its usual black. The next a great red disc had swallowed a portion of the heavens. And the those missiles headed for them were devoured whole byred light. Incredible energy flowed off the pulse weapon, even in the Void. Mousehome¡¯s hull rose half a degree in temp and a few of their optics burned out.


    But that was a good deal better than the ship¡¯s hull rising several thousand degrees and every optic aboard melting. When the red-light ended, nothing but vaporized plasma remained of the missiles and their payload. Sensors struggled to detect a trace of them in the wake of the beam¡¯s emission.


    In the distance, the missile¡¯s source almost shuddered. She knew she was projecting her own emotions on that ship, but that captain probably felt exactly what Gaz had moments before. She ¡ª or he ¡ª had just lost their ship.


    When the beam¡¯s light returned to the sky, it had a different orientation relative to the Mousehome, as if the beam were smaller and dimmer. Gaz knew what was coming, she¡¯d heeded the infoNet broadcast her first few seconds in the cluster. The captain of the Cabalon had clearly not read the warning before activating his novel drive and teleporting in-cluster.


    This time the red light didn¡¯t envelop its target. Instead it sheered off a portion of the attacking ship. In the following seconds, dozens, maybe hundreds of small vessels ¡ª all of them loaded out for salvage ¡ª translated in using drives similar to the Cabalon¡¯s. Those drives were new, something Gaz would have to look into once they were clearly out of danger.


    Mousehome continued her trajectory as the ship who¡¯d attacked them floundered in the void without its drive or power station. That red beam had surgically disabled the ship while the scavengers set about tearing it apart.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± Isham opened his eyes and peeked at Gaz through one lid. ¡°Were we attacked?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± It was almost too funny to answer with a straight face. But Gaz could control the entirety of her systems. ¡°They didn¡¯t read the manual.¡±


    ¡°Nelissan Arms is not going to give up attacking us.¡± Isham spoke from his seat around the wooden table in their shared simulation. This time Kirk was not in charge of designing it, Gaz was.


    ¡°Maybe, maybe not.¡± Gaz sat up with her back straight and her shoulders down. Alaya was still recovering, but her condition was green across the board. ¡°If it gets too expensive for them, you know they¡¯ll stop.¡±


    Evan tossed a virtual data packet at both Isham and Gaz in the form of a dart. ¡°Read this prospectus, but then delete it.¡±


    Gaz¡¯s AI scanned the abstract and regurgitated it for her and then set about re-reading the whole thing. ¡°This looks like a corpo schematic of NA.¡±


    ¡°Where in the hell did you get this?¡± Isham¡¯s voice sounded tilted for the first time since they met him. ¡°This is¡­ is there something darker than black?¡± Gaz could almost see his circuits frying the data from his brain. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know this.¡±


    ¡°Nelissan Arms is not a closely held corp. Nor are they so poor losing their flagship and its crew means all that much to them. Based on net worth, I¡¯d say we can expect the next Cabalon-scale attack in a week.¡± He leaned back and interlocked his hands behind his head. ¡°In a way this is nice. We know what they¡¯re willing to throw at us.¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡± Here in the simulation it was a measure harder to modulate her voice and keep the tension and fear concealed.


    ¡°I would say it¡¯s pretty close.¡± He held one hand out to Isham. ¡°Indeed. Knowing too much about them and their affiliates is dangerous.¡± He motioned to Gaz. ¡°On the other hand, there is a hard, financial limit to how far they will pursue you. If they were ideologues we¡¯d all be screwed. But in this case they are in it for the profit.¡±


    ¡°And for revenge.¡± Isham nodded, his expression souring.


    Kirk looked around at the table. ¡°Who the fuck is Nelissan Arms?¡±


    No one else had translated in using a skim drive, a new development out of Jupiter just hitting commercial use. They were another in the line of trans-light systems which, in this case, would create a security headache for any reasonable person running such a team. They would need to get the Mousehome¡¯s sensors updated to account for the tachyon burst which preceded such a ship¡¯s arrival. For now, life in the cluster sounded great to Gaz. Maybe they could spend their bonus from the Root priests on upgraded sensors. No surprise, but the skim drives had already arrived in Riggon cluster and at least one small fleet of the anarchists used them.


    When Alaya woke, Gaz briefed her in simulation about what had happened. ¡°That¡¯s not entirely surprising.¡± The skim drive seemed to irritate her more. ¡°You¡¯re telling me there¡¯s a pseudo-teleportation drive out there capable of bringing a ship how close to another with little warning?¡±


    Alaya grumbled over that discovery for a day, spending a good deal of that day diving into Nets and conducting research. When they met back up in sim a day before returning to the Root system, Alaya had several discoveries to announce.


    ¡°The good news about the skim drive is this: the tachyon particle bursts happen in a steady stream based on how far the ship travels, how massive it is, and its trajectory. In short, once we can detect them properly, the skim drive won¡¯t be a threat at all.¡± That was good news, Gaz had more or less discovered the same thing. The next announcement was new to her. ¡°I¡¯ve decided to keep the weird memories clogging up my storage. I think I can use them. It does mean I¡¯ll need to offload some stuff I was going to review, mainly data from the Rogue station. Anyone wanna review it?¡±


    No one else volunteered, so Gaz spoke up. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± Maybe it was creepy, but she liked the idea of reviewing data Alaya had been holding. It felt¡­ intimate to Gaz.


    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s big so we should meet up to share it.¡±


    Gaz wasn¡¯t going to comment on keeping the memories Alaya had gained from the seed. In her place, Gaz might have made the same choice. What concerned Gaz was not knowing what those memories contained, whether the memories themselves had enticed Alaya into keeping them.


    The rest of their meeting involved minor planning and details about the Root priests. Alaya and the other agreed with Gaz¡¯s proposal to bill the Root priests for failing to send their promised asset. They¡¯d almost abandoned the mission then. Gaz was glad they hadn¡¯t.


    Unlike the Rogue station, the Root growth had gone on full alert. Ships bristling with weapons flew hostile patterns for several clicks out. This was very different from when they left. Their hails were answered by the Root system¡¯s control. ¡°In bound ship, designation Mousehome, what it is your purpose in the Root space¡¯s control zone?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here dropping off a package.¡± Alaya contacted Gaz. ¡°What¡¯s going on? They¡¯re being weirdly hostile.¡±


    Gaz stared at the pattern, astonished at how different it was from the graceful, gentle curves of the Rogue¡¯s defensive perimeter. The unsettling feeling returned in force. ¡°See what they say and proceed with caution.¡± She left her position in the conn and went to find Alaya in the hangar. They could control the ship from virtually anywhere. In the time it took Gaz to walk, the Root flight control system had still not cleared them for docking.


    ¡°They¡¯re still waiting?¡± Slow time made everything take forever for Gaz. But she wanted it for the processor cycles and the chance to react in case the priesthood did something hinky.


    ¡°Incoming ship, Mousehome, you are clear for docking. Preparing a fighter escort for you.¡±


    Alaya let out an unnecessary sigh, shaking her head as she did. ¡°I was sure they were about to open fire on us.¡±


    ¡°We still have something they want.¡± Hearing the words spoken aloud, Gaz understood how precarious their position had become. One good reason not to send an asset to help them: total deniability. And the benefit of not having to pull that asset before they blew the Mousehome out of the void.

 Chapter 19 - Alaya

    Sleep. As a kid, Alaya had loathed sleep. With such a short amount of life behind her, why would she ever want to miss anything awesome that might happen? Now though, sleep was a blessed release from the ineffable number, from endless stress, and from the pain of her past. Except for the nightmares and the first few bits of cyberware she had installed cured those. Now though, she was aware she was asleep which made the problems of reality invade one of her final safe spaces.


    ¡°One dose of dreamlessness please?¡± Her voice echoed through the air, dispelling a grey fog curling around her. Mouldering bits of wood and thin pools of tepid water resembled the last true home Alaya could remember. But the colors were wrong. That old decaying ocean from her home had been grey, with motes of sparkling whites and blues. Very little had been green, except perhaps for the occasional bit of chartreuse will-o-wisp floating in the air.


    ¡°That sounds lovely.¡± Alaya jumped from the dry spot where she stood into the curdled green water. Bits of stringy plant-stuff fell on her as she pushed through a mass of stringy white fluff she¡¯d never seen before. ¡°Moss and spider web¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± The words captured Alaya¡¯s attention. ¡°This stuff is moss?¡± she held up a clump of dried, matted material which had clung to her¡­ robes? All sense of fear had departed from her and Alaya couldn¡¯t say why. Nor could she access her assistants, co-processors, or cyberware.


    ¡°It is called tree moss.¡± It looked to Alaya more like hydroponic plant medium than anything she¡¯d ever seen called moss.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the spider from the web?¡± Of course Alaya had seen spiders before, in various data entries or on Net films. But in real life? Never. Apparently Halocon, one of the artificial moons of Saturn, had a whole farm of spiders producing silk. The material was absurdly expensive, a fact Alaya knew because she¡¯d stolen a shipment of the cloth once.


    ¡°Check your shoulder.¡±


    At no point did the voice identify itself, at least not yet. But Alaya had forgotten that concern too. Turning her head eagerly, she found the spider clinging to her drab robes. The cloth it stood on reminded Alaya of packing canvas or material used for making cheap bags. It was shiny black and larger than she¡¯d expected. Two little arms rose up as she stared at it and it waved them at her. ¡°Cute!¡± She reached out to touch it, but then someone reached her first.


    A gnarled, wrinkled old hand with fingers like fine control armatures, grabbed her wrist. ¡°You have no fear, do you?¡±


    ¡°Pff.¡± Alaya found herself strangely unable to hold in her dismissiveness. ¡°I am afraid of lots of things.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± The old woman, with stringy white hair and gaps in her mouth waggled her wild bushy eyebrows at Alaya. ¡°You¡¯re curious but not entirely stupid.¡± She released Alaya¡¯s wrist and took a step back from her, hiking up her own white robe as she did. As with her normal world, the woman¡¯s clothing set her clearly apart from Alaya. Her robes were fine spun and bleached perfectly white. A single cord painted gold wrapped around her waist and from it a small silver curved blade Alaya had never seen before hung from the cord. ¡°It is called a sickle.¡±


    ¡°Can you read my thoughts?¡± Again, Alaya should have been panicked about that. But it was just a fact, like there was no air in the void, radiation was lethal in sufficient dose, and this woman wouldn¡¯t hurt Alaya. Hard to be believe, but clearly true?


    ¡°Indeed.¡± The woman clicked her tongue at Alaya and the spider jumped off of her shoulder and skated across the water toward the woman. ¡°This place can very much harm you, but I will not.¡±


    ¡°This place? Where are we?¡±


    The woman swept her hand out in an arc and the fog retreated before her gesture. ¡°Once this place was called the Summerlands.¡± Massive trees, bigger than anything Alaya could have imagined or seen in a Net broadcast, rose out of the lakes on open canopys formed form stilt-like roots. Their trunks reached up higher than the Mousehome from nose to tail. ¡°That is called a Mangrove tree.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re answering even the questions I don¡¯t ask?¡±


    ¡°Your modern AI does the same thing, does it not?¡± The woman bowed and pointed to herself. ¡°Consider me an analogous figure. I can read your thoughts and guide you through the dangers of the Summerlands.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s always been dangerous here.¡± The woman¡¯s eyes glowed with a green inner light as she answered. ¡°The real danger to you, the immanent danger lies in the real world. There is no avoiding your fate. Except to say that you should not despair. Not only do the gods look out for you, but you have two worldly patrons¡­ invested in your survival.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± The green light from the woman¡¯s eyes grew brighter and brighter. ¡°I will greet you again during the long sleep and your time of mastery. The Verse takes her price, and though I will not apologize for Her, I can sympathize.¡± The old woman stood erect and her white robes faded as the body beneath glowed.


    Green light all around now, Alaya¡¯s vision blurred until all she could see were the outlines of countless scars. Some decorative, others surgical, and far more the result of violence, all were the product of pain and all fulfilled a deeper purpose. What, Alaya could not quite say, but she suspected she would find out.


    This time when she snapped awake, she didn¡¯t run into anyone¡¯s head. But like last time, Alaya had an absolute conviction she was awake. It was hard to put her finger on, hard to define precisely, but she was pretty sure she would always know when she dreamt from now on.


    All of her cybernetics responded and Alaya let out a calming breath. The old woman¡¯s words were already fading and none of her systems had properly recorded them. She quickly noted what she could remember and laid back down on her mattress. ¡°Maybenice, comfortable mattresses were not a good idea.¡±


    Hand against her forehead, Alaya had the intense urge to stay in bed and pretend she¡¯d never woken up in the first place. Without being able to say why she knew it exactly, Alaya knew she¡¯d be kicked back into consciousness if she tried it.


    ¡°Fine then I¡¯ll get up.¡± Dressed and made up faster than most mornings, Alaya activated her self-cleaning routines rather than enjoy a shower or anything more decadent.


    From the records onboard, their ship was within a few hours of reaching the Root and turning in their haul. There were lots of notes on the file for Alaya and each one came down harder and harder on her optimistic mood. By the end, the old woman¡¯s words had Alaya¡¯s throat tight and her head ringing with doubt.


    Isham, Evan, Kirk, and Gaz had all expressed doubts about this, with Isham and Gaz¡¯s being the strongest. Everything they said lined up too, checked from the sensor reports to the conclusions the two offered. Either the Root clergy were going to double-cross them or the root clergy were under assault somehow. What the former entailed was obvious, but the latter was rather broad. From some kind of bloodless internal squabble to an actual hot conflict raging among the branches of the Root, Alaya had no clue and neither did her crew. One of the main reasons they hadn¡¯t turned and just left was because the odds favored a conflict. Other, perfectly excellent reasons remained. Chief among them was that an internal squabbles always produced spillover effects which could look like bad faith.


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    Alaya dropped into slow time to review the information her crew had supplied. She tended to give Gaz¡¯s opinion more credit than she might have given someone else. But Gaz had stopped short of recommending retreat. Isham too. And at the other side of this mission¡¯s successful completion: Kowal.


    It was a simple calculus for Alaya. If the Root priests attacked them, Alaya wasn¡¯t too worried about overcoming them. If the rogues were any indication, the priests would be pushovers. The real question was how that would affect her ability to find Kowal. The Root priests had better come through on their end if they wanted to keep themselves safe from her.


    ¡°Hey Gaz.¡± All of her crew stood on the conn in the projected space available to view the field of engagement.


    No one acted surprised to see her up and about. Gaz must had told them. ¡°Hey Alaya. We¡¯re an hour from docking.¡± Her finger pointed toward the large mass of vegetation where they were aimed.


    ¡°Hey ¡®Laya!¡± Kirk-Vora waved to her, bending her knees and bouncing as if it were the happiest moment of her life.


    Very dramatic, Kirk. ¡°Heya Kirk.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re feeling okay?¡± This was Evan, arching an eyebrow at her from the back of the group, he stood in the shadow of a large passing cargo ship which had cleared its route with both the Root and the Mousehome.


    ¡°Never better.¡± She¡¯d said the words flippantly, but it was true. Aside from a little lingering guilt over the way the Rogue station had gone and a certain unease from the old woman¡¯s prediction in her dream, Alaya felt terrific.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Isham lurked in the back silently. His objections about walking back into the station were worded a good deal stronger than Gaz. He couldn¡¯t dispute the probabilities, but he contended their potential payout and loss would not have been worth it anyway. Considering the strength of those objections, Alaya appreciated the fact he didn¡¯t voice them in the moment.


    ¡°Alright people. Let¡¯s get this done and get our little debt to the Root clerics settled. I¡¯ve read the reports and I¡¯m not¡­¡± She squared her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m not ignoring the facts. This could be a setup and we should be ready for it. Isham and Kirk are staying with the ship no matter what. Gaz and Evan are sticking with me along with Kirk-McRory and Kirk-Vora. Got it?¡± No one complained or asked questions. ¡°Good, let¡¯s talk contingencies¡­¡±


    More than anything else, Alaya wanted Gaz safe and the others as safe as they could be. Isham and Kirk would be the best off aboard the Mousehome. They had weapons access and Alaya very much doubted the local Cluster guidelines would apply to shooting their way out of another ship or station. Evan was with Gaz because the two of them were close to indestructible together.


    And this time they were loaded for ship-to-ship combat. Wherever possible, Alaya had everyone setup and activate their most powerful weapons. The Root people might have some strange anti-killing beliefs, but that didn¡¯t mean Alaya would go easy on them.


    The Mousehome danced among the roots of the living station. Just like a real mouse bounding over and between tall grasses, Alaya¡¯s ship dodged portions of the station until she came to land on a wooden platform. Like last time, the trees and branches swallowed them up right before they disembarked.


    Lodrun met them at the bottom of the ramp, alone. Optical sensors scanned the area for anything suspicious, but the priest was alone. ¡°I trust you found the seed?¡±


    ¡°We have it in our cargo hold.¡±


    His face, placid until then, bloomed into a cheek-splitting grin. ¡°That is fantastic news. May I see it?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but I want to make sure our understanding is clear.¡± Alaya had expected Lodrun to take her elsewhere and have some second group retrieve the seed. But he wanted to see it now. ¡°You¡¯re going to arrange it so we know when Kowal is leaving, before he actually leaves?¡±


    ¡°I will tell you the precise time of his departure right now if you would prefer.¡± Lodrun¡¯s smile remained wide. ¡°Provided you allow me to inspect the seed.¡±


    ¡°Done. Open the hatch guys.¡± It was colloquialism her father had preferred. The ramp from their cargo area opened and the suspensor-protected seed slid down the ramp under careful controls.


    Lodrun¡¯s eyes widened in joy, almost tearing up, as he laid eyes on it. ¡°You really stole it for us. Wonderful!¡± He stepped closer to the seed and the ramp-conveyor and the nano-swarms Alaya released into the station on instinct began to drop off of her comms. Optics reported disturbances in the wooden floor.


    ¡°Is something wrong, Lodrun?¡±


    He turned back to her. ¡°Nothing at all. Just let me check the seed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got real bad vibes, team.¡± Evan spoke over comms. It would have irritated Alaya coming from anyone else. It still irritated her a little bit because the source of his concern ¡ª magic ¡ª was something she hardly understood.


    ¡°Run a hard scan with ship sensors. Don¡¯t pull any punches.¡± Alaya reported back to the ship while Lodrun continued his path toward the seed. He spread his arms out and lifted his chin.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I would ever see one¡­¡± his voice was blissful, joyous, ¡°and you brought it to me. To us.¡±


    Alaya shook her head, sniffing as something caught her. It was far more subtle than the mind-games the Rogues had played with her. She had a feeling her automated protections would have kicked in if they¡¯d tried it a second time. This was simply a paralysis effect. One moment Alaya¡¯s body performed the slow, random moments to mimic nature, the next she couldn¡¯t even speak over comms.


    Lodrun placed a hand gently on the surface of the seed and sighed as he closed his eyes. ¡°Huh.¡± He turned back to Alaya. ¡°What did you do?¡± It wasn¡¯t an angry question, more curious and still filled with joy. ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter. Kill them all except for the leader. Do it now.¡±


    McRory twitched and Kirk¡¯s voice buzzed over comms ¡°¡­ot me!¡± and then was silent.


    Evan and Gaz broke into motion, Evan hurling a spell like the one he¡¯d used to cure Alaya of her ensorcellment aboard the Root clergy outpost. Unlike that time though, a field of wood rose up between Alaya and Evan and blocked the spell. When it dropped again, Alaya¡¯s optics showed Evan pierced through by dozens and dozens of sharp vines, bleeding from every wound.


    They¡¯d lain into Gaz the same way, but the wood struggled to actually hurt her.


    Massive cords of vines and branches roared by Lodrun, shaking his robes with the speed and sheer volume of plant matter. They engulfed the seed and then roared up the loading ramp into the ship¡¯¡¯s interior. Weapons fire broke out from the hangar along with shouting. Bits of vine shot out of the hull of the Mousehome while the weapon¡¯s fire died down. Her ship sank into the wooden floor, plants and other matter bursting out from the interior.


    The last thing Alaya saw before the mass of plant life swallowed her was Gaz. A large branch the size of a loader arm rose up and crushed Gaz against the wooden planks. It came up with bits of sparking and burning nano machinery clinging to the wooden surface. As if to be sure, it smacked down over and over. Alaya tried to scream, would have loved to. But the magic holding her in place was firm.


    Then nothing.


    ¡°As I was saying,¡± the old woman stood in the exact same spot of the swamp she¡¯d stood in when Alaya had been asleep. But this time, Alaya was¡¯t asleep. ¡°The Verse requires pain.¡±


    She screamed, she¡¯d had been unable to scream before. Her lungs took in the heftiest breath they could manage. And she let her fury and agony out in a single breath. ¡°Gaz!¡± Her eyes and nose ran as she fell into the fetid waters of the swamp. Her throat burned and her jaw ached by the time she stopped screaming. It was lack of effort, but her body ¡ª whatever counted as her body in the state she was in ¡ª could not scream any longer.


    I¡¯m not dreaming. Systems blinked red across the board. She¡¯d lost connection to everything but the core components of her cyberbrain: her cranium, much of her spine and a few nascent sensory connections. The sensors were gone. Have I gone mad?


    ¡°We¡¯ve already been over this. You are in the Summerlands. You are not insane.¡± At once the flush of calm covered her again. With the snap of her fingers, the woman literally snapped at Alaya, all of her emotional wracking vanished. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna be useful like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not asleep?¡± Her voice was hoarse and sandpaper-dry.


    ¡°At least you¡¯re not senseless anymore.¡± The old woman snorted. ¡°I told you just a moment ago, you¡¯re in the Summerlands.¡±


    ¡°But was dreaming, was¡¯t I? How am I here, what happened to the others, to Gaz, and¡­ oh Gaz.¡±


    ¡°We know what we knew and what you know.¡± The woman tiled her her head and winced. ¡°Maybe a tiny bit of the future too, I suppose. But we don¡¯t know what happened to your friend. I¡¯m sorry to say it, but until you¡¯re right with the Verse, she¡¯s gonna keep takin¡¯ pain from you.¡±


    ¡°She can¡¯t do worse.¡± Through the magic driving away Alaya¡¯s dense of despair, she could still feel that vague sense of abandonment. ¡°I¡¯ve lost everyone. All of them.¡±


    ¡°Have you now?¡± The old woman¡¯s tone was dismissive, but Alaya couldn¡¯t even bring up anger over it. ¡°Get up and get ready. We¡¯ve only got a certain amount of time to prepare you. Fortunately for you, you¡¯ve got those little doodads jammed in your skull. We can do more with a few months than my order accomplished in twenty years.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    The old woman spread her arms wide and the world around them dissolved, melting into the ground. ¡°You¡¯re going to learn magic. Or die trying.¡±

 Chapter 20 - Gaz

    The branch came down a second time, and the Gaz burned away a full ten additional percent of her mass. It had done severe damage to her nano-structures. Destroying one nanite on purpose should have been impossible. Like taping a railgun to a butterfly. But that ridiculous mass of wood had destroyed a solid fifty-percent in one blow. If Gaz had kept her cortical matter anywhere but her gut, she would have died instantly.


    Nanites burned a channel into the wooden floor and the branch came down a second, third time, over and over in its mindless attempt to smash her into bits.


    By the time she reached an open area, she¡¯d lost a fully three quarters of her original mass. Gaz¡¯s body couldn¡¯t assimilate new mass quickly enough to counter-act the constant damage she was taking from her environment. Her sensors could not identify the source of that damage, as if they were inherently blind to it. Not thermal, not radiation, not quantized energy pulses. Therefore: magic.


    Having lost all contact with her team, Gaz assumed them¡­ gone. Not Alaya, they¡¯d said not to kill her.


    Every cell of Gaz, the tiny parts of her which comprised the whole, objected to their course. She wanted to stay and save Alaya. And if she had the slightest hope, she would have done exactly that. But as it was, Gaz would die on her way back to her charge and might die on the way out of the ship. Hard to say exactly. Her only chance was to escape and return with reinforcements for Alaya.


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    The parts remaining to her grew smaller, which meant she had to expend less to push herself through the matter of the Root system. Minutes rolled by as automated, or seemingly automated, systems attacked Gaz, though they could do little to slow her progress. They were just wooden arms and bits of vegetation come alive. Whatever the massive branch had become or however it had been reinforced, none of the rest of the ship could simply smashthrough Gaz.


    Few spacers welcomed the vacuum. Space, the whole verse, was inherently deadly. And the vacuum represented the foundation of the universes¡¯s ¡°field of death,¡± as an ancient Earth scholar had once dubbed it. But in this rare case, it saved Gaz¡¯s life.


    Sealed against the vacuum and capable of generating energy directly from captured matter, the vacuum was practically Gaz¡¯s home. Rather, she was made for the vacuum of space. Normally, she would have had a good deal more mass to commit to her various life support and navigational processes.


    Not now. Coprocessors shut down, non-essential systems such as Net access were all disabled by emergency energy conservation algorithms. Fast time kicked in as Gaz abandoned primary cycles in favor of power generation and mass accumulation. In effect, she rocketed across the cluster, headed for the one person she hoped might be able to help her. Or at the very least the one person who might respect her credit. In a ship such a journey might have taken hours, maybe a few days.


    It took Gaz eight months.

 Interlude 2 - Janice Bachman

    ¡°What in the goddamned shit happened?¡± Janice¡¯s cast stream wavered under the force of her irritation, Evan suspected the body she occupied had a vague sensory headache or was experiencing cognitive delay.


    ¡°Alaya chose to entangle herself with the Root Clerics.¡± The chassis Evan now wore was an old model, old enough to be missing some key features such as multi-processing subsystems. This was the first time Evan had ever been forced to ride this particular pony. Failure tasted like rotten cigarette ash and crusty digital relays. ¡°There was little I could do to dissuade her.¡±


    ¡°The Clerics betrayed her? After giving their oath?¡± Fingers steepled and jaw set, Janice slid into the back of her chair. Whatever disruption had affected her cast stream ended and Janice rubbed her temples.


    Definitely a headache. With a touch, even through this ratty old chassis, Evan could have soothed her mind and staved off the cast jitters for weeks or even years. But Janice would have rebuked him, would have been furious over him messing with her digitals using his power. He wasn¡¯t even allowed to touch her. ¡°They betrayed her and they murdered her crew. Or rather they tried.¡±


    That got Janice¡¯s attention. ¡°Tried? Explain.¡±


    ¡°Seven minutes ago one of my automated digital warnings flagged Kirk¡¯s Net access. Based on the stream data we grabbed, he¡¯s still in-cluster somewhere.¡±


    ¡°So one of them lived, the brain-damaged kid from Bahl-Mau. Anyone else?¡±


    Evan eyed his employer. He had few reasons to distrust her and fewer to suspect she bore Alaya or her companions ill-will. The strange part, for Evan, was not how he felt a sense of kinship with Alaya. Rather he felt a strong sense of kinship with her illegal cyborg companion, Gaz. I¡¯m going to tell her, I might as well do it now. Despite the thought, Evan dragged his feet mentally until the silence threatened to go on too long. ¡°Gaz, her friend, I think she¡¯s alive.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°I made a new contact in Riggon Cluster, a Techomancer named Nathaniel.¡±


    ¡°Your report mentioned him. He¡¯s a cyberdoc and shipwright.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And¡­¡± again, the reluctance was almost palpable, ¡°I happened to leave a few ¡°notational aids¡± among his office and ship.¡±


    Janice¡¯s smile almost looked feral. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s taken in a new employee. I can¡¯t be sure it¡¯s her. Grabbing too much too quickly will tip Nathaniel that I¡¯ve bugged him.¡± Too many coincidences mounted up together for Evan to doubt it was Gaz who¡¯d joined Nathaniel and who had already initiated her desperate search for Alaya.


    ¡°When you¡¯ve confirmed her identity, let me know immediately.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re spinning up a skim ship just for you.¡± Janice looked over her glasses at Evan. ¡°And we¡¯re writing it off.¡±


    In other words, Evan was to use the ship and drive as he saw fit. Maybe he¡¯d dismantle it and give it to Alaya for upgrading one of her ships. ¡°It has tachyon sensors?¡±


    ¡°Best on the market. Technically, better than that because they are fresh off the Himalia lines and no one, commercial or otherwise, possesses these sensors.¡±


    ¡°Mission parameters, ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Exact same as last. We have no heir. We have no idea where Alaya is, but the Loop system reports that the charter is in place and her debt is still available for transfer. In other words, she¡¯s still alive.¡±


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    ¡°Find her, protect her, and kill her if she becomes a danger?¡± Evan¡¯s control was such that his voice didn¡¯t even change when he said the last clause.


    ¡°Precisely.¡± She waved to him dismissively. ¡°Now go and get yourself a new body. We¡¯d normally leave you in that can for a little while as an object lesson. But this is important and I don¡¯t want our Red Charter flapping in the void for too long.¡±


    Evan nodded and rose. He¡¯d been given an order and intended to carry it out, even if he happened to ignore the part about killing Alaya.


    Gaz wouldn¡¯t like that.


    ¡°What do you think, Yilanes?¡±


    Less than a meter away, standing on the same side of her long wooden desk as Janice, a figure stepped out of the air as if leaving a curtain. It wore an old-fashioned battle chassis. This one had a death¡¯s skull in place of its head, titanium and chrome parts pistoned the limbs like a clockwork automaton. Metallic grinding accompanied the borg¡¯s movements as it walked around Janice¡¯s desk and fell into the chair with a crunch. Great. I¡¯ll need to get my chair repaired now.


    ¡°It is impossible to say if the Technomancer is lying. You should have given him an bio-organic chassis. Makes it a lot easier.¡± Yilanes¡¯s eyes glowed blue from the optic channels in the old borg. ¡°If you don¡¯t trust this agent¡­ why use him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust anyone.¡± It was true too. Janice had automated processes in her own skull checking her decisions against ancient schema to make sure no one was messing with her. Paranoia extended much further than that. At current count, thirteen different processing facilities built replacement bodies for Janice, each of which was carefully compared to the others, to the point where a random body was disassembled every production cycle and compared against the mainline body atom for atom. Code and AI checks went on there too, never could be certain a hacker hadn¡¯t wormed their way into a fundamental system. Had to keep testing. No one worked in the facilities other than Janice herself. Those thirteen facilities were only the ones she knew about. Janice was certain there were more. Paranoia had no bounds.


    ¡°Good for me, that. Means a little spy like myself stays essential.¡± Yilanes stretched out, catlike despite the metal frame. ¡°Want me to shadow your little Technomancer?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s fine.¡± Janice knew where Evan¡¯s original body was. She could hit a switch and choose a confirmation dialogue that would incinerate the Technomancer before he could finish controlling her systems. ¡°I actually called you in about Chairman Singh. Evan was just a bonus¡±


    ¡°Singh? Why?¡±


    Nelissan Arms purchased their first skim drive from one of Janice¡¯s sub-corporations a little over a month before. But they¡¯d fielded a Cabalon-class warship in that time? Highly fucking doubtful. A host of humanity possessed the secrets of the skim drives, but a controlled and monitored host nonetheless. Only a subset of that host could have leaked the drive to Nelissan Arms and helped them hide that fact. It was that last little slip-up which had led Janice to Chairman Singh. It took someone with an incredible amount of bureaucratic power to hide the transfer of a major technology like that.


    MilCas was one option, of course. By default, Janice placed that organization low on the list of possible leakers. Like her own corporations, MilCas had an intense internal security team and structure. She¡¯d already ordered a review of their skim drives through a cat¡¯s paw and the prospects were low. Same with the corps that had developed the drive in the first place. Which left only the government and hence, the Chairman.


    Yilanes had simply waited while Janice reviewed her own information. ¡°I am not going to share the details of my information network with you. Shadow Chairman Singh and let me know if you find evidence of him feeding the drive design to Nelissan early. If he did, find out when.¡± Janice tapped her desk to emphasize how much that particular piece of information mattered. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything without that tidbit.¡±


    The borg spy in her office chuckled and bobbed his skeletal head. ¡°Done. I¡¯ll report back when I have something.¡± He snapped his fingers and a black cylindrical field rose up around him, swallowing him and the chair he¡¯d been sitting in.


    ¡°Fucking asshole.¡± Janice was laughing when she said it. Technically he¡¯d saved her the trouble of having that stupid chair fixed. Dialing up her secretary, Janice moved onto the next bit of business regarding the Alaya/Nelissan affair. If she was right about Chairman Singh, which she almost certainly was, then she had to make a decision about his successor. ¡°Call Garland Harriotte and ask him if he still wants to see the Alps from space.¡± There were ideal places to discuss overthrowing the most influential public figure in the solar system. Deep in space without the worry over recording equipment or listening devices sounded perfect.Besides she hadn¡¯t been back to Earth in forever. It would be nice to see the old rock from something other than a simulation.

 Chapter 21 - Alaya

    ¡°You are not ready yet.¡± Talani sat on a stump at the edge of the swamp.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s impossible. Even here.¡± When she heard her own voice, Alaya couldn¡¯t ignore the petulant tones or the faint whine. ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡±


    Talani cackled. ¡°You produce a single iota of ¡°fair¡± in the Verse, and we can skip the trials altogether.¡±


    With a harrumph, Alaya sat down with her back to the wall and pouted some more. A wall surrounded the swamp. It might as well have sealed at the top and enclosed the whole area like a cylinder ship. Whatever material the wall was made out of, neither experience nor implant data told her what the off-white, rough substance was made from. Nothing she¡¯d done to it had so much as scratched off an odd patch of speckled material. She couldn¡¯t jump over it, she¡¯d tried climbing it to no avail, and ¡ª at least so far ¡ª she couldn¡¯t fly.


    Talani could. Alaya had seen her transform into a bird the way Gaz could.


    ¡°You can just take me across, why not do that?¡± What lay beyond the wall, Alaya could not say exactly.


    ¡°Because this is a simple task. Because I do not wish to.¡± The old master tapped the stump absentmindedly. ¡°And because this trial is for you to pass.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fucking stupid.¡±


    This time she shrugged. ¡°Or my aspirant isn¡¯t as smart as she fancies herself without her little electronic helpers.


    Ire rose up in Alaya and took her eyes away for a moment. Sudden, blinding anger lashed out, seeking a place to unleash itself and finding nothing to bounce against, it flayed Alaya herself. That rage turned inward as she watched Gax die a dozen times in her mind. Before a minute had passed ¡ª relative time, Alaya had turned off the subsystems which automatically told her how much time had passed in the real ¡ª grief replaced the anger.


    It wasn¡¯t just Gaz who¡¯d been lost. No, Alaya had lost her whole team all in one fell swoop. Kirk would have been better off if Alaya had never come to Bahl-Mau. Isham too. As for Evan, frankly Alaya was disappointed at how easy it had been to kill him.


    Then there was Gaz¡­


    Hundreds of years of life squeezed into a beautiful, compassionate mind more expansive and wonderful than a dozen lesser minds. And the Root priests had reduced that mind to sludge.


    There was her rage again.


    When she escaped this place, Alaya intended to burn the Root down. Ludron¡¯s bald head and sneering expression rose up and Alaya screamed at him, her scalding fury too hot to contain.


    ¡°Shh.¡± Talani was at her side, cool palms on Alaya¡¯s cheeks, her voice soothing the incredible anger in Alaya¡¯s breast. ¡°The Verse has given you a piece of Herself. You can¡¯t indulge in it like this, you have to give it space, let it breathe in your mind or it will consume you.¡±


    Superstitious mumbo jumbo; Alaya knew magic was real. But she didn¡¯t believe. Whatever the ¡°Verse¡± had shoved in her head, anger and fury were old companions. She¡¯d been close friends with them since the day her parents died.


    ¡°You¡¯re ignoring me.¡± Talani and the host of elders in Alaya¡¯s memory banks could read her mind like a holographic billboard.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the fuck you¡¯re talking about and it¡¯s just pissing me off.¡±


    Trickles of energy flowed from Talani¡¯s fingers into Alaya¡¯s skin. The flush of power numbed her cheeks and jaw, ran down to her neck and numbed it too. A final flare of the rage and Alaya would have shoved Talani away, if she¡¯d been in control of her limbs at the moment. Numbness tracked down her upper trunk toward her fingers and gut. The anger did not depart, but rather the fiery aspect of it cooled enough to touch.


    Alaya started weeping. ¡°Everyone I know is dead.¡±


    Talani rocked back on her feet and fell to her haunches. ¡°I know.¡±


    Anyone else might have expressed sorrow on Alaya¡¯s behalf. They might have commiserated with her or tried to change the subject and make the scene about them. But not Talani. Her silence and the soft rhythm of her breath lulled Alaya into a calm mental state. Naturally, her breath shifted to match Talani¡¯s pattern.


    ¡°There you go.¡± The old woman¡¯s voice didn¡¯t suffer from the crackling rasps of age. If anything, she sounded younger and clearer than Alaya did some days. ¡°Fight against the Verse and what happens?¡±


    Ugh. Here go the questions. ¡°You die.¡±


    ¡°Give up and what happens?¡±


    ¡°You die.¡± The answers were always the same, but sometimes the questions changed subtly.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the answer?¡±


    ¡°The middle path?¡± How Alaya had come by that answer weeks ago, she could not say precisely. Though her cybernetics continued to function, providing her with a pinhole stream to the external world she wouldn¡¯t have had otherwise, this place stretched the limits of their abilities. Something about her condition here prevented her from recording these sessions, prevented her from running an extra 3-4 mental tracks while taking in her lessons, and her meta-examination abilities were severely curtailed here. As far as her implants were concerned this world did not exist.


    ¡°I wonder¡­¡± Talani ran a finger along the line of her own jaw. ¡°Do you need some additional motivation?¡±


    There was something other than the anger: fear. ¡°Oh please no.¡± Images of slavering wild beasts, the likes of which Alaya had never seen or heard of before came to mind. This wouldn¡¯t be the first time Talani sent a small host of animals after Alaya. ¡°I will overcome the wall.¡±


    ¡°Before the sun sets?¡± Talani rose from where she¡¯d sat in the mud, her bleached white robes picking up a dirty imprint on her backside. It brought a snort out of Alaya. A cocked eyebrow wasn¡¯t Talani¡¯s only answer. ¡°The Verse isn¡¯t clean, girl. It¡¯s messy and heterogenous. Parts of it are full and swollen,¡± Talani made a lewd gesture with her hand, ¡°and parts of it are empty. How does humanity survive in the swollen places?¡±


    It was the closest thing to a hint Talani had given Alaya. And it made no sense.


    ¡°The Verse¡± was a common term for the universe, the totality of space and time which made up the potential experience of reality. But Talani and the other elders in Alaya¡¯s mind had a different perspective. For them The Verse was an object of veneration, something sacred and ineffable. Alaya didn¡¯t get it at all. But she could start from the common understanding.


    What does humanity do to survive? The question evoked images of her father and mother. There¡¯d been a time when Alaya considered mother¡¯s skillset less useful than father¡¯s. Father could repair the cylinder with whatever he happened to find laying about. Mother could tell him where the ancients tended to keep their supplies. But were those components of survival? Was there something wrong with the wall that it required repair?


    Upon first encountering the wall, Alaya had walked its length to confirm it surrounded the swamp. She¡¯d set a stick at the beginning of her route, jutting up from the soupy ground and pointed away from the wall in a rather obvious marker. Not one part of the surface had been damaged. Every section of the wall looked the same as the previous, with the only difference being the swamp. There was nothing Alaya could do to repair the wall.


    Trials like this made her feel inadequate and small. Give her a code puzzle or a security system to crack¡­ Oh crap I¡¯ve been thinking about this wrong this whole time.


    Alaya stood up right away and turned to face the wall. If this was a firewall, how would she break through it?


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    The easiest way to break through a high security firewall was to find an exploit, usually a piece of bad code waiting for a signal that would let her slip under or over the firewall. And if there was no such fragment of bad code?


    Fuck me.


    Alaya walked back toward the center of the swamp. The mangroves which populated this wetland grew to incredible sizes and heights. And a decent few of them had toppled under their own mass. As a result, she could pick through the remains of those ancient trees for bits of wood and debris she could use. What if there was no sneaky way through a firewall? The answer was to build one.


    She was being hyperbolic earlier. Now that she looked up at the wall with her plan in mind, the top didn¡¯t seem all that far away. Without her cybernetic assistance, she couldn¡¯t say exactly how tall it was, but that didn¡¯t matter in the moment.


    Branches sturdy enough to support her weight were also sturdy enough to resist being pulled from their trunk. In her normal life, an improvised tool often meant using a screwdriver as a weapon. Or bashing out a pane of glass with a multitool. But here in this strange liminal space, an improvised tool meant Alaya wandered through the swamp looking for a stone or something hard enough to chop through her branches.


    Talani had not deigned to follow her through the swamp. But each time Alaya deposited her supplies near the spot she wanted to try her ascent, she found her master sitting on the stump, watching in silence. The position of her master and the way she wore a faint smile over her face combined in Alaya¡¯s brain to produce a revelation: the strumming of her fingers on the stump¡­ that had been a hint too.


    Alaya wished for her nanites as she slammed a wedge-like rock into the junction between the branch and the trunk. With a swarm she could have finished this project in minutes. Without it she was hitting a fucking tree with a fucking stone. Like a fucking caveman.The mystery of the incredible volume of money the wood in this place represented had lost its allure for her long before now. Striking wood this valuable with a ¡°tool¡± she¡¯d scrounged out of the mud truly bothered Alaya in the moment. Hard not to imagine she chipped credits away from the wood with each blow. Not that such credits would have been as valuable to Alaya as the wood itself.


    The focus of an interminable chore preserved Alaya¡¯s sanity. Repetitive tasks took away the mental space to worry over Gaz, stopped her from her otherwise endless self-castigation. Before long ¡ª Alaya couldn¡¯t say how long ¡ª she¡¯d chopped a pile of branches off of the trunk for her use. Taking more wood off of that old tree might have helped ,but Alaya truly had no idea how to split it or prep it for use. She didn¡¯t even know how to pick up and move the lumber once she¡¯d made it, other than hauling one piece at a time.


    Bundle of branches in arm, she staggered back to Talani and let them spill down to where the wall met the Earth. Now the question was: how the hell to get these branches connected well enough to support her weight?


    Every once in a while a sim would come out featuring some rugged explorer lost on an untouched planet with nothing to their name but gumption and grit. Those sims skipped right over the important parts. Montages would show their hero chopping wood with a stone not unlike Alaya. Then it would show them wrapping the stone around a long branch to make an axe. How the hell did the hero get the stuff to wrap the axe in the first place?


    Aside from mangroves, the swamp was filled with plant life. There was nothing else Alaya could use to bind her stone to her axe. Even if she¡¯d found animals to hunt, Alaya had no idea what to do with them once she killed them. Thus she experimented. The vast, vast majority of grasses were as useful as mulch in binding her stone to her branch. More often than not, Alaya pricked or sliced her hand on some grass¡¯s defensive measures. By the time she¡¯d discovered a clump of grasses which didn¡¯t just come away when she pulled on them, her hands had grown slick with blood. Everything stung her fingers as she dug around the roots of the grasses to expose them and pull them out. Growing medium was way easier to deal with than actual soil.


    When she¡¯d liberated her plant from the ground, Alaya washed the excess dirt off in the swamp water, gasping as the pain from her cuts flared. There wasn¡¯t enough grass for her purposes, not with her first harvest. But the second, third and fourth turned up a bundle of the ropey strands she needed to complete her axe.


    Axe finished and ready for use, Alaya took it deeper into the swamp and used it like a shovel. There was another weird new word. Apparently early gen colonists had all been diggers of one form or another, so they¡¯d kept ¡°shovel¡± in their lexicons. But Alaya and her folks had never had cause to use such a basic tool.


    Hours went by. Alaya¡¯s back and shoulders ached from the constant motion. How she could feel pain in his strange non-sim while she couldn¡¯t even turn her sensors on with her cyberbrain was beyond her. At the end of those hours, Alaya had amassed a large pile of her preferred fibrous plants.


    The next step was tedious, even more so than chopping because she had to braid and twist her fibers into something akin to rope. Here was one more place those old survival sims helped. They were woefully under informative with respect to how the hero obtained their raw materials, but they loved to show them weaving strands of fiber for cord or rope. No idea what she was doing, Alaya ruined a good three quarters of her first tries. Hence the massive pile she¡¯d collected.


    A good many little bits of rope or cord produced, Alaya tested their strength next. The engineering problem of how to test her weight without killing or hurting herself came up. Whether she could die in the Summerlands was an open question, one Alaya had no interest in exploring. In the end she settled on taking her two largest branches and tying a smaller branch she¡¯d been unable to break between them. Again, trial and error resulted in something crude but serviceable. If she left the fiber rope too loose, the crossbar slipped down the branch to the ground, depositing her on her backside. But there was no such thing as too taught for those ropes.


    Alaya found a small, strong branch and used it to twist off the rope, and then slipping the end through the running loop she¡¯d made for the branch worked great to keep the rope from unraveling. With that construction system in place, Alaya found she could stand on her crossbar, she could even jump up and down on it without it shifting or sliding down the support branches.


    Nighttime came and with it, darkness. Darkness aboard a ship was beyond dangerous. Darkness meant power loss and impending death. But out here in the Summerlands, darkness just meant nighttime. And as dark as the green sky managed to turn, Alaya never lost sight the way she did during a blackout. If early people lived like this, how did they ever stop working?


    ¡°I just made a ladder.¡± The words echoed out into the night sky. She¡¯d used thousands of them over the course of her life. In terms of building a ladder, Alaya had never done anything like it. This¡­ this was special. There¡¯d been no ancient fabrication plant sending its effort forward over the millennia. No other mortal or digital hand had laid themselves upon Alaya¡¯s work. The two rungs of her ladder, she¡¯d made them both herself.


    By the time she¡¯d finished, the sky shifted from bubbling cauldron green to something closer to lime. The sun would rise soon and Alaya would be ready to test her experiment. Light returned to the world and Talani wandered up to Alaya, to inspect what she¡¯d done. But the old master did not speak a word, either of approval or condemnation to Alaya. Rather she nodded as if the ladder were a fellow elder and moved on.


    Fucking galling. But if Talani wasn¡¯t going to speak, then neither was Alaya. On the plus side, the swarm of animals or insects never materialized.


    When the sky reached its maximum luminosity, Alaya lifted her ladder with considerable effort and leaned it against the side of the wall. Its top passed the halfway mark, but Alaya couldn¡¯t be certain of whether she¡¯d be able to leap the distance.


    Only one way to find out.


    A glance toward Talani, who stood with her arms folded, watching impassively, Alaya grunted and climbed up her ladder. She¡¯d fixed a rung to the very top of her branches and it was a little uneven. Getting those rungs to lay flat had been a serious task, one which Alaya abandoned for lack of precise instruments.


    Swaying back and forth, Alaya lay her hands against the pocked stone and held her breath. Down was farther than she¡¯d expected, farther than her mind had let her assess until she clambered up here and looked down. How was such a short distance so sickness inducing?


    Bile swallowed and eyes shut, Alaya took several deep breaths. Less than twenty centimeters separated her from the walls¡¯s upper lip. Few occasions in her life had made such a small distance so significant. But those twenty centimeters might as well have been a kilometer.


    ¡°Fuck you wall.¡± It wasn¡¯t rational, or wise. Gaz would have asked her why she did it, and Alaya would not have been able to explain herself.


    She jumped.


    Another day of building a slightly larger ladder would only have enraged Alaya further, possibly discouraged her forever. It was twenty centimeters, she could jump that, no problem.


    Branches snapped as Alaya¡¯s feet left the upper rung and her hands hit the ledge. Smooth stone would have let Alaya slip down the surface unimpeded. But the rough texture of the walls gave her purchase and scrapes from the base of her palms to her elbow. The spots on her elbows hurt especially bad.


    But there she hung. It was the closest Alaya had come to breaching this wall and she wasn¡¯t toppling to the ground now. Feet scrabbled against the wall, like a idiot trying to run in zero-G. Her arms burned, not just from the raw wounds where she¡¯d shredded her own skin, but from the shear pain of exertion.


    I am not fucking falling from here. Alaya shouted at herself silently in her mind.


    This time her anger was silent, quiet as the chilling death of the void. In fact every part of Alaya¡¯s mind hushed itself in that moment. All she was, everything in her form and body, each individual moment in her life had added up to and produced this. Millions of potential futures, billions of cells, more particles than contained in her absurd debt, all united to a singular purpose.


    Blind and in the darkened mental space of her own potent focus, Alaya found herself atop the wall.


    Over the edge lay a blue sky, as fake and weird as the green for of the swamp. She had to blink her eyes before the rest came into focus.Fields interspersed between hills rolled out before her like a blanket unfurled, but left rumpled over a bed.


    ¡°Beautiful¡­¡± she¡¯d had more to say, but Alaya teetered and fell forward off the wall, her body finally reacting to the intensity of effort she¡¯d put in over those recent seconds.


    Her arm hit a corner of the wall as she fell. Alaya didn¡¯t even scream.

 Chapter 22 - Gaz

    Small stature never bothered Gaz, not really. Height and volume made little difference to her. The only thing which mattered was mass. She chuckled at her own joke. Was matter mass or mass matter? Strands of segmented wiring, metallic and shining against the alabaster white walls of their operating theater, shook in response to Gaz¡¯s chuckle. If she¡¯d absorbed those she might have regained some of her substance. And irritated her host for no reason.


    ¡°Good humor settled on your tiny shoulders.¡± Nathaniel looked down at Gaz where she held the optical wiring in place.


    ¡°I was thinking about how long its taken me to replace my lost mass.¡±


    ¡°You were affected by some nasty magic. I remain surprised that you lived at all. Thank Eitolon Inc.¡±


    Feeding the line from the spool, Gaz didn¡¯t bother to nod. Technomancers like Nathaniel could read Gaz¡¯s digital thoughts without the need to touch her. Besides, she was surprised she¡¯d lived too. ¡°Tell me your theory again.¡±


    She could have replayed his words. But Alaya had loved to chat meaninglessly with Gaz while they worked. Nathaniel was a poor substitute for the woman Gaz loved¡­ for the woman Gaz had betrayed. But he was a more than adequate storyteller and Gaz could use a story.


    ¡°I think the priest enchanted the branch which struck you.¡± Nathaniel paused to concentrate while he tweaked settings on the neural interface they repaired. ¡°I could do something similar, as could almost any Technomancer. But why bother¡­ at least in your case.¡±


    ¡°Right, you could just disperse me if you wanted.¡±


    ¡°They are not capable of simply dispersing you.¡± He paused to acknowledge her comment. ¡°So I¡¯d guess the Root clerics enchanted that section of their tree ship while simultaneously cursing your ability to repair yourself.¡±


    It was the same diagnosis he¡¯d offered the first time Gaz asked. She idly wondered if he thought she doubted him, if Nathaniel didn¡¯t just read her mind in the first place. So the Root Clerics had tried to kill Gaz, Isham, Evan, and Kirk. From what Gaz observed personally, they¡¯d killed Evan andKirk, almost certainly. As for Isham¡­ as far as Gaz knew, he lacked any advantages which might have protected him from the attack of those clerics.


    And then there was Alaya. ¡°Tell me she¡¯s alive again.¡±


    Pink motes of light rose around him and his aura became visible to Gaz as he spoke. ¡°I cannot say for certain where she is. But I can say without a doubt that the cortical cybernetics I implanted are still working, and connected to neural tissue. Living neural tissue.¡±


    Cyborg bodies were not immune to pain. Pain served a function for the human brain: a way to avoid danger. But almost all borgs could mediate their pain to one degree or another. The mental anguish which reached out and grabbed Gaz could not be shunted away by a few digital switches. Alaya was alone and probably afraid. For all Gaz knew, the Roots Clerics had jarred her and left Alaya senseless in a constant loop of torture.


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    A lot of people were going die if that were the case. Several of them with Gaz¡¯s hands wrapped around their necks.


    ¡°Come back to us, Gaz?¡± Nathaniel¡¯s voice cut through away the anger and the pain for a moment. ¡°Hard to read you through that storm of emotions.¡±


    She let out a breathy laugh. ¡°Good, maybe that will give me some privacy.¡± Nathaniel started to apologize, but Gaz stopped him. ¡°I am mostly kidding. I don¡¯t really mind the mental intrusion.¡± Nathaniel was kind about it, but Gaz suspected he did it automatically.


    ¡°Evan could only read my thoughts when he was touching my chassis.¡±


    Nathaniel nodded and reached back into the system they were repairing. ¡°Because Evan is a specialized kind of Technomancer. He can do things with his own chassis and to people with chasses that I would need some time to effect. But in exchange many powers which would be active constantly and in close proximity might not work as well for him. It¡¯s part of why he dislikes working on repairs or upgrades directly. Where I can sense and ¡ª to a limited extent ¡ª influence a piece of technology close by, Evan cannot. He must touch everything he¡¯s working on, which would become tedious quickly in my line of work.¡±


    The influx of information about Technomancers, more than Nathaniel had ever shared, kept Gaz from interrupting or asking for more information. But he ran himself down and focused on his work. If he¡¯d wanted to keep going, Gaz suspected he would have. So she shut up and turned her full attention on their project.


    Like he¡¯d said, Nathaniel could have snapped his fingers and repaired the entire neural interface in front of them. He probably would have had to touch them to do more than sense the components. But still, he could have completed this job and dozens similar to it from their past in seconds. Instead he spent countless hours with Gaz teaching her to repair them manually. Literally hardwired to learn, Gaz had no complaints. Until her mass was recovered, she had no hope of saving Alaya. Even then, she had to find a counter to the Root Cleric¡¯s magic. They could bless the very wood of their ship to destroy her and curse her form to make regeneration impossible. What could Gaz do against such power?


    The obvious answer was to find another magic user willing to oppose the Root Clerics. And that would have been a brilliant solution to Gaz¡¯s problem. But first: magic users were incredibly rare. Rarer than borgs by an order of magnitude. And second: fully half of the magic users in the solar system were theurgists. And they would not be on board to attack the Root clergy, no matter how much they deserved it. Gaz had checked in with Nathaniel on this very question and he¡¯d shut her down with a definitive ¡°absolutely not.¡± He even refused to help find any other magic users who would help.


    Gaz and Nathaniel finished their work cycle ¡ª thirty-six hours on, seventy-two off ¡ª so Gaz headed back to her chambers alone and sent her consciousness into the sensor systems of the Pillar of Man. Parts of the computer systems were black, off limits to Gaz. But she was encouraged to look out into the void and search all she wanted. Her chambers were bare white stone with no furnishings or even a bed. What use did Gaz have for furniture or a bed without Alaya?


    Her coprocessors hooked into the sensor recordings and reviewed the historical data while her active systems reviewed the live material. Nothing interesting happened while Gaz watched, but her coproc sent her a series of sensor readouts which made Gaz switch jobs with her own cyberware.


    A long sleek ship flew up to the Root cluster as the Pillar of Man looked on. It had the old-school traditional look of a cigar. Tapered at the nose and cylindrical at the body, the black metal ship could have been an overly large missile. Technically, all void ships were missiles, but that was beside the point. This particular Void ship was familiar to Gaz.


    It belonged to Malorn, pirate admiral of the Mal-wares. ¡°Fuck.¡±No one was there to tease Gaz over cursing.

 Chapter 23 - Alaya

    Food smells pulled Alaya from her slumber. Dreamless, she¡¯d slept well enough to awaken with renewed energy. But the pain in her limbs and aches in her back held her tight to the mattress she¡¯d woken up on. Part of the smell came from the straw of her bedding. It reminded Alaya of synthetic spices, grassy like this, but without the hint of dirt this particular bed exuded.


    Savory smoke drifted in through cracks in the building around her. Light streamed in among the smoke and gave the room a hazy, almost oceanic look.


    A room with gaps in the walls.


    It was a singularly strange room. Why in all of the Verse would anyone build a room where light and smoke could drift in through the very walls? The existence of the room offended her while it fed her delightful odors and fended off the cold nipping at the soles of her feet.


    The thin blanket which had been thrown over her had a weave closer to lace or a straw hat than any fabric Alaya would have intentionally worn. How it kept the least bit of cold at bay confounded Alaya¡¯s reason.


    Wonder at her waking state faded into the background of her mind as the rage supplanted it. Here sat Alaya, traitor to her friends and sucker who¡¯d gotten them all killed.


    ¡°Fuck you.¡± It was whispered into the darkness of her room. It was brighter than the void, brighter even than the sky from sims from the many nights she¡¯d spent in the Summerlands.


    ¡°Fuck you too, Alaya.¡± Talani¡¯s voice crept through the cracks, dripping with humor as she adopted Alaya¡¯s whispered tone. For a second, Alaya had been certain Talani was in the room with her. But no, her voice had definitely come from outside the room. Weirdly, the response had drained away the sudden influx of anger choking Alaya¡¯s thoughts.


    When Alaya put her arm down to leave her bed, pain rocketed through her body. Needles tipped with capsicum buried their barbs in her arm, tearing a shriek from Alaya¡¯s lips. Her cybernetic implants should have cut off the pain as it ripped through her body, but they didn¡¯t give a shit about the Summerlands.


    Her world toppled around her, a fact Alaya only distantly acknowledged. Too much pain. Her systems should have dumped endorphins through her, should have started a complete triage setup. But they failed her.


    ¡°Alaya, are you okay?¡± Vague shapes, a shadow across a slitted curtain, moved to Alaya.


    If her muscles would have responded to her neural commands, Alaya would have crawled away. But somewhere in the midst of the worst pain of her life, Alaya¡¯s body chose to ignore the rest of the signals in favor of the agony.


    ¡°Oh dear.¡± Talani¡¯s touch stopped the pain, all of it. Even the spot on her lip where Alaya had almost bitten through in her blind failings.


    Coppery blood filled her mouth, not enough to choke her or make her gag, but enough she felt needed to spit. It was the first sensation other than pain which Alaya had been able to recognize as she¡¯d tried to move. The blood trickled down her chin and Alaya turned her gaze to her arm.


    Two thin, but sturdy-looking branches stood on either side of her forearm with pale bandages connecting them to each other with her flesh between. ¡°Why does that thing hurt so much?¡±


    ¡°The splint? No dear, the splint¡¯s helping. You broke your arm.¡± Alaya snickered. She¡¯d broken her arm before. This was different. Before she could speak and contradict Talani, the old woman clucked her tongue and said, ¡°you¡¯ve never broken anything for real child. Your body and then brain have always protected you from injury.¡± She thumped one of the sticks, which sent a tiny thread of stinging up Alaya¡¯s arm into her head.


    ¡°Ow! What the fuck?¡±


    ¡°I am making a point.¡± Talani laid two fingers on the flesh of Alaya¡¯s arm and the pain ended abruptly. ¡°And that point is this: your cybernetics have made you weak. Constructs of the mind: pain, anger, sorrow, these are fleeting. And you should be able to control them even without your trinkets.¡±


    She sounded like a crazy atavist. Or one of those religious nutters who demanded everyone remove their cyberware, even the people like Alaya and Gaz who would simply die from doing that.


    ¡°I am not crazy. This is an important lesson. The Verse doesn¡¯t care about you or your pain.¡± Talani stood up and brushed her hands down the front of her robes. ¡°Most of the time. So the only answer is to deal with it.¡±


    Alaya hated that answer. She could have ¡°dealt¡± with her parents¡¯ deaths. And left the fucking Mal-wares to pillage and ravage the solar system. It was their fault Alaya was saddled with her astronomical debt. It was their fault Alaya¡¯s childhood had been shattered. And¡­


    ¡°Are all those things really their fault?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you and your mind reading.¡± For a moment, with the pain gone, Alaya had the mental cycles for her anger. As if the tide of needles had been waiting for just this moment, they rushed in and overwhelmed her.


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    The room tilted as Alaya lay there, blood drained from her cheeks, and she suddenly found it hard to breath. It was hard to keep her head upright too.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you go into shock on me.¡± Talani moved with a speed which belied her advanced age. The touch of her palm across Alaya¡¯s forehead was paradoxically warm and wet.


    This time the discomfort did not vanish the way it had previously. Instead Talani seemed to sip away at Alaya¡¯s bucket of pain until she could focus her eyes again. ¡°Shock? What do you mean? Does this place even have electricity?¡±


    Her voice echoed funny through the room, but at least it had stopped tilting and spinning around her.


    ¡°I see. We will need to visit some topics soon. You should recover for now.¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t put me¡­¡± Alaya couldn¡¯t finish her sentence. Just blackness.


    The second time she woke in the strange room, Talani was sitting in the corner snoring. It was dark in the room, and the light no longer streamed in from outside. Was it just as dark out there as in here?


    Alaya couldn¡¯t tell, so she started to sit up. Pain though, Alaya had already discovered, was an excellent teacher. Her arm was still wrapped in sticks and bruises ran up the inner and outer part of her forearm like a trail made by a giant pogo stick. As gently and slowly as she could, Alaya tapped the marks.


    ¡°Oh fuck.¡± That wasn¡¯t nearly as serious as the first time she¡¯d interacted with her broken arm, but it certainly wasn¡¯t a light massage. Not quite sick to her stomach, but still vaguely dizzy, Alaya used her left arm to pivot her legs out from under her blanket. Bruises ran up and down her legs upon viewing them. It was really the wrong way to think about them, those bruises. More of her leg was purple and sickly yellow than the usual pinkish beige. How did she break her arm and end up with fewer bruises by percent than her legs? Looking down at them, Alaya froze up before lowering her feet to the floor out of fear the spicy needles would return.


    Not this time.


    Slowly, as gingerly as a first timer working a void armature, Alaya dropped her feet to the ground in stages. Each time wincing and sucking air in expectation of agony. They hurt, but only in flashes, as if her body would spend more than a few seconds on that pain before returning attention to the aches and needles in her arm.


    When her feet brushed the floor, she found it weirdly gritty and soft, not like the sand from the cylinder where she¡¯d grown up. This had a broader range of size and texture of the particulates scattered over the floor. Unlike the swamplands, this wasn¡¯t really wet. But it was cold. Alaya retracted her feet and curled her toes.


    Balance suddenly mattered. Leaning on her left hand and keeping weight and the lightest pressure off of her right, Alaya¡¯s legs pivoted up and the back of her head hit the slatted walls.


    ¡°Planning on going somewhere?¡± Talani hadn¡¯t moved that Alaya could see, but her eyes opened.


    ¡°Erk.¡± Head against the wall behind her, Alaya could move her legs more freely now, without having to use her right arm. She brought them down atop the mattress she laid on and turned to gaze at Talani. ¡°Hi.¡±


    ¡°Not as much swearing today?¡±


    Fuck you.


    Talani snickered and shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Oh you can swear all you like sweet thing. Knock yourself out. Metaphorically I mean.¡± A glance at the wall and Alaya¡¯s head sent a wave of heat through Alaya¡¯s cheeks.


    ¡°This sucks, haven¡¯t you tortured me enough yet?¡±


    ¡°A child teeters on the top of a staircase, above their parents, and out of balance. Is it torture to shove the child back and out of danger?¡±


    ¡°What? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Torture¡­ if we were torturing you why would we allow you to move about? Why would we teach you anything?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but that¡¯s not really an answer¡­¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t. It¡¯s more than you deserve. In the old times we would have tossed you in a bog as an object lesson to your fellows and a sacrifice to the Verse.¡± Her arms swept out and the door opened at the same time, startling Alaya. ¡°But as you can see, we are woefully short on fellows.¡±


    Plains. Alaya had known the word for a long time. Her mother taught it to her, had showed her pictures of oceans and plains, steppes and tundra. But never before had she seen it, like the swamp before it the fields of grasses and wave-like hills were utterly novel. Legs off the bed, and no pain in her arm, Alway found herself mesmerized by the scene of green grasses shifting and tilting as if the gravity plane outside broke.


    ¡°That¡­ is wind.¡±


    ¡°Wind? Like solar winds?¡±


    ¡°Something like that, sure.¡± Talani¡¯s mouth quirked. ¡°There¡¯s only one gravity plane here and if it shifts we are rather dead.¡±


    ¡°We can die here?¡± that answered a question Alaya had been pondering.


    ¡°All things die, Alaya. All things. Digital minds cast across the cosmos will inevitably fail. Whether from the slow decay of entropy or the rapid decay of calamity, ends always come.¡±


    The fact Talani thought Alaya needed to know that, of all people, offended her. Death had been one of Alaya¡¯s longest, most active companions. Silent and invisible, death had stalked by Alaya¡¯s side for over half of Alaya¡¯s life.


    ¡°Not half. Always. Death has never, will never, leave your side child.¡±


    Why did that of all things provoke a response in Alaya? Was it because Talani made it sound like Alaya¡¯s presence had cost her parents their lives? Was there another reason? ¡°Fuck you.¡± The anger clouded her sight, stole away the images of the green, grass-swept plain and it not-at-all solar winds. Millions of people dead by Alaya¡¯s hand and it was her parents she though of as she seethed at Talani.


    ¡°Direct your anger at me all you like. Doesn¡¯t affect me in the least.¡± Her chair toppled back and forth as Talani stood up. ¡°You want out of here and you want to find your friends, do you not?¡±


    It was the first time Talani had suggested an end to this farce. ¡°Yes. What do I have to do?¡±


    ¡°Three things.¡± Talani stood at the door to the¡­ this wasn¡¯t a room. Alaya wasn¡¯t sure what it was, but there was no more building out there to contain this particular room. Rather than explain what those three things were, Talani stepped out of the hut and into the brightly lit plain.


    ¡°What¡¯re the three things? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    But the old woman ignored her, kept walking. In the area close to the room, the grasses had been kept short or driven out entirely. Out beyond the ring of cleared grass, Talani took one step and vanished.


    ¡°Fuck you.¡± It had almost become a mantra.

 Chapter 24 - Gaz

    ¡°You go out there, you¡¯re going to die.¡± Nathaniel wasn¡¯t stopping her, though he wasn¡¯t helping either.


    ¡°It¡¯s them, Nathaniel. Those pirates set all of this into motion, from waking me up to murdering Alaya¡¯s parents.¡± It was almost true. As close to the truth as could be, separated from it by a width as thin as hammered gold.


    ¡°Indeed. And those pirates are currently docked inside of the very station which nearly destroyed you last time.¡± He stood next to the airlock where Gaz had run the moment she¡¯d spotted the pirates. ¡°You can leave if you want. I¡¯ll even welcome you back, as long as you¡¯re not trailing angry Root clerics behind you.¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But you won¡¯t be coming back.¡± Folded arms and a slow lean against the white stone hallway gave Nathaniel a casual smug look. ¡°I said that already.¡±


    Alaya would have cursed up a storm, blown her fury over the halls, and marched into the airlock because Nathaniel told her not to. But Gaz¡­ ¡°Fine. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?¡±


    ¡°Study, regather your mass and we¡¯ll spend time looking for your friends. Some of them might have survived.¡± It was what they¡¯d been doing for far too long now. But what else could she do? Gaz readied herself to argue, but Nathaniel finally raised his hands up and pushed away from the bulkhead. ¡°I¡¯ll even sweeten the deal for you: stay and I¡¯ll spend some more of my precious time working on you. If you want.¡±


    The offer was tempting. He¡¯d saved her life, or rather kept her from having to sail on and find another safe harbor. Somewhere she might have been endangered and where she would have had much more trouble looking for Alaya. Besides, he was a technomancer offering Gaz something worth more than mere mass. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He nodded at her. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to throw your life away.¡±


    She snorted internally, scoffing at the conviction in his words. Nathaniel believed them, but Gaz could not. More and more reasons for her to stop functioning occurred every cycle. If not for Gaz, Alaya¡¯s parents might have lived. If not for Gaz, Bahl-Mau would still be floating in the Void. Millions would have lived.


    Nathaniel cocked his head. ¡°Do you really think you¡¯re allowed to die before you¡¯ve paid off the debt you¡¯ve accrued with the Verse?¡±


    The way he said it stunned Gaz for a moment, as if the Technomancer were angry with her. But then he turned on his heel and stalked away, his head and shoulders shaking as he did. Had Gaz made a misstep, had she incorrectly interpreted Nathaniel¡¯s meaning? Was he only keeping her alive because he thought she owed a debt to the verse? Or to him?


    No response to her unspoken questions, just silence and the clank of Nathaniel¡¯s shoes over the halls.


    Gaz sat in her featureless room reviewing the footage from the Root station¡¯s rendezvous with the pirates. One of the reasons, the main reason, she¡¯d wanted to head out immediately and confront those pirates had been the fear they would leave before she had the chance. But no, they¡¯d docked, the ship had been eaten by the roots as all docked ships were, and then nothing. No other pirate ships connected to the Root, and Malorn¡¯s flagship never departed.


    The fourth time she found herself poring over the sensory recordings observing the Root station, Gaz shut off the internal review and switched over to a different set of memories. When Gaz first met Alaya, she hadn¡¯t fallen in love right away. The girl was around ten and Gaz was¡­ technically by that point, Alaya had lived more continuous time than Gaz herself had. But Gaz possessed the mental attributes of an adult, the body of an adult and Alaya simply didn¡¯t.


    It had been a little under two years ago, before Bahl-Mau, before they¡¯d struck on the lead which pointed them in Kowal¡¯s direction. Pirates never walked away from Malorn, which meant Kowal had been on the run. At the time they hadn¡¯t known the escaped pirate¡¯s identity. All they had was a ship¡¯s registry and a description of the cargo manifest that matched an earlier lead.


    The maintenance station where Kowal had docked orbited as far off of the main Loop lines as any station could get. Named Ranja Springs, Gaz had found the name somewhat ironic considering the station¡¯s water situation. Air aboard Ranja Springs tasted of dust and dehydration. The people there were thin with their skin clinging to their frame due to the lack of water.


    It was a strange thing to need out in the black. All spacers knew the baseline rules about resources and needs: four minutes without air, four days without water, and four months without food. Every one of those essential needs should have been met with simple energy. A well-constructed recycling plant could turn foul water clean, CO2-heavy air to pure, life-giving O2, and other waste into food. Worst case, new people would have to supply their own air and their own water to keep from stressing the system, though redundancy should have been built in.


    Not so with Ranja Springs. When they¡¯d docked, rather than pay in credits or barter, the hangar authorities seized half their water and air.


    Alaya hadn¡¯t been bothered, but Gaz was. Claiming essentials like that was a good way to have your docked ships fire out through your hull to leave. Besides that, water and air were ironically abundant in the void. As long as someone spent a little time and energy searching.


    Exactly like an old-earth desert. Water flowed in the very atmosphere and could be captured with a little ingenuity and planning. The same with the Void. Currents of solar ejections sent hydrogen and other light elements blasting through the cosmos. Big enough collectors could capture a vast amount of matter and powerful enough recycling engines would turn anything thus collected into breathable air and water.


    With no plans to stay on Ranja Springs, their scarcities had been strange, and evoked a primal indignation in Gaz. But she had done nothing to investigate the problems aboard the station as her job had been to protect Alaya. And Alaya had a mind for capturing Kowal or one of his cronies and nothing else.


    Ancient systems posed no kind of threat to Gaz¡¯s peripheral nanites. She¡¯d injected her own commands into the station systems before they¡¯d discovered a berth. Which was nice because Gaz was able to use her systems to get them a double room. Which, for some reason, had only one bed.


    She followed Alaya over the station, using her infiltration to guide them to security black holes and down into the bowels of the station¡¯s black district. Exactly where their ¡ª as of yet ¡ª unknown target had gone.


    Filth and more strangers¡¯ blood than expected covered the two as they returned to the upper decks. Guilt had weighed Gaz down for a solid decade up to that point. Alaya never questioned the events surrounding her parents¡¯ deaths. It was¡­ strange to Gaz, who thought she would have wanted to confirm every detail and learn as much as she could. Thus, Alaya had no idea Gaz had done so much to hurt her. That night, in the middle of their search for the partial culprit, Gaz had decided to confess her crimes to Alaya.


    When they¡¯d reached the room they shared, they discovered their personal water use severely curtailed. They¡¯d given the station enough water to accommodate another twenty people for a lifetime, even including the slow loss of material through he hull of the station. And Ranja¡¯s Spring wouldn¡¯t pump up an extra three liters of water so Gaz could bathe.


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    It didn¡¯t really matter, of course. Gaz could have just cleaned herself with an act of will. Alaya¡¯s indignation over the water rationing had set Gaz on that very course. Coprocessors poised to activate her self-cleaning systems, Gaz had stopped when Alaya put her hand on Gaz¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just bathe together? We¡¯re both girls.¡± It was one of Gaz¡¯s most precious memories. Alaya had blushed, lowered her eyes and raised them back up with a sheen of moisture over her irises. ¡°I mean women.¡±


    A dozen different responses had queued up in Gaz¡¯s mind. But she must have blown a circuit because she blurted out, ¡°I am not even sure if I¡¯m really a woman.¡± That sentence might have unpacked into a great deal more, if Alaya hadn¡¯t giggled in response and glanced down at Gaz¡¯s chest and front.


    ¡°Close enough.¡± She pulled off her overalls and the rest of her clothing in a single move. ¡°You stink and we need a shower. Hurry up.¡±


    Nothing untoward or erotic had happened then. Alaya¡¯s body had never been a mystery to Gaz before, she¡¯d stood by her through ten year¡¯s worth of baseline human growth. Sickness, biological changes, all of them were no strangers to Gaz. And yet¡­ those scant minutes of hot water, steam, and giggling awkwardness as they squeezed into the shower stall had changed Gaz¡¯s mind more thoroughly than replacing every hadron-circuit in her brain might have.


    She¡¯d lingered in the shower when Alaya stepped out to dry. It was impossible to tear her eyes away from Alaya, solar gravity drawing Gaz¡¯s attention more thoroughly and fully than proximity to a black hole.


    Then she was gone. Stepped out of the bathing area and into the bedroom proper. Gaz had lingered a brief time before she joined Alaya in the other room. They¡¯d shared the same bed for a long time, but that night Gaz lay awake as usual next to Alaya. The only difference was a tremor in Gaz¡¯s heart. Over and over she¡¯d reviewed her own sensory recollections of the shower, trying to understand why anything had changed between herself and Alaya. And whether Alaya might have felt the same.


    Obviously not.


    Present-day Gaz opened her eyes and reviewed the mental thread she¡¯d reeled through. She applied the same obsessive attention to her more recent memories of Alaya. The woman she saw in those sensory reruns made Gaz want to reach out through the recording and urge her to abandon her quest for vengeance, to leave the Loops and the charter binding her to them behind them and escape to a vacant part of space.


    There was no changing the past, only reviewing it.


    That was where Gaz found a large hole. Right before their fateful encounter with the Root station, when Alaya¡¯s implants had been attacked by the seed they¡¯d stolen, Alaya had turned over a series of memories she¡¯d stolen from the rogue priests.


    In the course of the battle against the original Root priests, when Gaz had been crushed and nearly destroyed, a good deal of what she¡¯d received from Alaya had been corrupted. It was such a small thing, smaller even than the memories of the first time Gaz realized she loved Alaya. But Gaz could not deny the fact she¡¯d yearned to share those memories. For no other reason than they¡¯d been in Alaya¡¯s head first. But a second reason arose. What if those memories contained something useful for Gaz? What if they could help her find Alaya?


    The Root priests had sent Alaya and her team against those Rogues. What if those eccentricpacifists could help against the Root clergy? It was a long shot, a desperate ploy where little hope existed. But a little was better than none.


    ¡°Could I bother you?¡± Nathaniel had given Gaz access to his movements aboard his ship. Since he¡¯d stopped her from leaving, Gaz had not approached the Technomancer.


    ¡°You would have to try rather hard.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Gaz wrinkled her nose and tilted her head, aware of how much like Alaya she sounded.


    Nathaniel looked up from the project he was engaged in, it looked like a cyberbrain overhaul. ¡°You¡¯re not bothering me.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, um, do you need assistance?¡± It was almost automatic for Gaz to ask. She was too beholden to Nathaniel and it made it hard for her not to try to help him.


    ¡°I could use your assistance.¡± He said it in a slow way, hesitating between the words as if afraid he might scare Gaz away again.


    ¡°Sure.¡± She needed his help herself and there was no better way to clear the balance sheet between them than for Gaz to preemptively help. Not that I could ever pay him back for what he¡¯s done.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, you know.¡± He glanced up at her as she rounded the operating table he stood at. ¡°You can never pay me back because your coin is no good here.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    He sighed and set the cyberbrain back in its casing. There was no attached body and the case looked like it lacked any organics. ¡°I mean you owe me nothing, therefore there is no way for you to pay me back.¡±


    Gaz laughed softly. What people owed each other followed them around the galaxy, an endless digital record of their lives and the lives of the ancestors. And this Technomancer rejected that trail. Only because what he makes is beyond cost. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re here for a reason. And I also know you¡¯d prefer I just plucked it from your mind rather than force you to ask.¡± This time he lowered his gaze back to the cyberbrain and touched the top of the spheroid. A tiny cylindrical component rose up, as if attached to the tip of his finger. ¡°But, if you want my further help, the first thing you¡¯ll need to learn is how to ask for it.¡±


    Gaz wanted to choke, if she¡¯d had the mechanics, she might have on principle. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°What I said at the airlock stands.¡±


    It required her spinning up two additional processors before Gaz was comfortable meeting Nathaniel¡¯s demands. ¡°Could you help me retrieve some fractured memories?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He answered with a perfunctory nod and proffered the little metallic cylinder to Gaz. ¡°First, let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t refurb this old busted CB?¡±


    Nathaniel did not know who the original owner of this cyberbrain was. According to him, he¡¯d received it as part of a lot. The organics had been virally cleansed and the digital components had been quantum-purged. Whoever had killed the last owner of this brain, had wanted to be certain of their work.


    Despite what he¡¯d said, there was nothing old about the brain. It wasn¡¯t cutting edge by any means, but its line was certainly still being sold on the consumer market. For a massive amount of credits. And though busted, more of it functioned than some ships Alaya and Gaz had lived on during their first decade together.


    They went well over their typical thirty-six hour work schedule. With his supervision, Gaz disassembled the entire brain in just over forty hours. Nathaniel could enter slow time with Gaz, something she¡¯d never encountered before. Which meant they could communicate digitally though slow time, despite not being connected or running the same sim environment. It also meant Nathaniel could direct Gaz more efficiently than in meat space.


    Why he¡¯d avoided doing that until now was a mystery.


    Pieces of the brain lay arranged in neat little rows or connected to various mounts to prevent the delicate parts from picking up dust or a passing magnetic charge. Nathaniel ushered Gaz away from the table and the two of them sipped from coffee mugs. It was easily one of the best cups of coffee she¡¯d ever tasted. Wasted on Gaz, Alaya would have appreciated the drink more.


    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll finish putting this brain back together before you leave and I¡¯ll look at those memories of yours. Deal?¡± He held out his hand in a positively ancient gesture.


    Gaz shook his hand. ¡°Deal.¡±


    The moment she touched him, her nanites trembled. Nathaniel¡¯s presence in her mind was a soft, subtle thing of whispers and breezes. He glided across her circuitry to the place where her long-term memories were stored. Gaz possessed a vague sense of the magnitude of her mind. But only under Nathaniel¡¯s scrutiny could see the specifics herself. Assuming her current memory usage trends, her cyberbrain would fill in just under eight millennia. A fact which also assumed she did not evolve her recollective capacities further.


    With a start, she experienced the meta-conclusion that Nathaniel was distracting her from what he was really doing. And then the fully undamaged contents of the Rogue¡¯s computer systems flooded over her processors, both main and secondary.


    Data in the order of magnitude Alaya had stolen from the rogues required massive processing resources to organize and review. Gaz relaxed into the data stream and applied the full cycles of her processors to the analysis. She didn¡¯t feel Nathaniel release her hand. She didn¡¯t notice when he returned to his place at the head of the table and resumed organizing bits of the dismantled cyberbrain.


    Because those processors and circuits hit on something absolutely life changing: those ¡°rogues¡± didn¡¯t think of themselves that way. As far as they were concerned, they were the real Root priests.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Nathaniel waited to ask until after Gaz blinked and returned to the fore of her sensory controls.


    ¡°Can you send to the Rogue outpost, or maybe find a way to contact some of these people¡­¡± Gaz sent him a list of names provided by the data Alaya had stolen. If what she¡¯d found was true, the people at the Riggon Root cluster weren¡¯t really Root clerics, but a violent splinter group. If this data was correct, the actual Root clergy had set the seed out as bait for the splinters. And Alaya and Gaz had ruined their plans. ¡°Maybe don¡¯t tell them who I am?¡±

 Chapter 25 - Alaya

    ¡°What kind of riddle is this?¡± Alaya¡¯s arm had taken forever to stop hurting when she moved or touched it. Weeks at least. Time had less meaning in the Summerlands than it had after Alaya received her slow time implants. Now she couldn¡¯t access any of her implants, from sensory recording to mnemonic. They still functioned, they had to, or she would have simply ceased to be.


    Alaya sat along on a flat rock in the middle of the plains. If one of the skittering wee beasties moving through the grasses had stopped to answer her, Alaya might have not panicked. She would have waited for them to explain.


    I have to do three things to get out of here. What fucking three things?


    Wind. Invisible other than its effects on the grasses and on Alaya¡¯s hairs blew a chill across her shoulders and carried the smells of Talani¡¯s cooking with it. Weeks had gone by and the old woman had not once suggested or even hinted at what Alaya had to do to escape the Summerlands.


    Nor were they idle. Excluding evenings, Alaya and Talani spent their waking time in lessons. Much of what Talani taught Alaya was useless outside of the Summerlands. Land navigation would do nothing to help in the void. Nor on a Loop station. Wildcrafted herbs tasted better than anything fabricated, but where in the hell was Alaya supposed to find wildcrafted herbs on any rock spinning around the Sun? At least not with her debt hanging around her neck. Martian and Venusian parks required the payment of fees, something Alaya simply wouldn¡¯t accept.


    And then there were the habits of the fauna in the plains. Father had been fond of mice, a trait he passed on to Alaya. Out here among the fields she¡¯d found a mouse warren, complete with mouse mane and kits. Where would she find something like that out of the Summerlands?


    She had no idea how much standard time passed while she languished in the Summerlands, but her time wasn¡¯t exactly wasted. While the lessons lacked applicability to her life, the things she learned were interesting. Too bad they were useless.


    A crow sounded her cry to the heavens as Alaya let her body relax into her seated position. It flapped its wings and alighted across the field, skimming over the surface of the grasses. As much as Alaya hoped both the crow and the mouse lived, she didn¡¯t want to watch the crow catch the mouse for a meal.


    So she closed her eyes and proceeded to meditate the way Talani had shown her. Thoughts of every stripe and color swirled through her mind, trying to distract her, pull her attention away from herself and generally mess with her serenity. This process had frustrated Alaya at first, but now it amused her. All of those disparate thoughts, she coaxed them over to herself in her mind¡¯s eye. Then she coaxed them over to a small elevator car where she stood. Blue watercolor streaks, sadness over her parents¡¯ death, roiling red magma: anger over the currents tossing her about, and a dozen different emotions flagged by colors or images all gathered in the small chamber with Alaya. The space grew thick and stuffy, as more and more cartoonish images, scenes, and memories filled up the room. When she could not call up any further baggage, Alaya slipped out of the elevator with quick, efficient strides, slammed the door shut, and hit the airlock release.


    Several dozens misshapen forms spiraled away from the ship of her mind. Funny enough, it looked like the Mousehome and not like any of her older ships. Not her cylinder where she grew up or the ship Kowal had stolen. The room she¡¯d used did not exist aboard the Mousehome, but everything else matched right down to the rivets at the top and bottom of the walls.


    When the ejected feelings faded out of view, Alaya found herself light and free. All but floating atop her stony perch, she could have sailed through the Void like this, eyes closed and body floating with the power of her mind.


    Alaya opened her eyes slowly and screamed. She hung half a meter over the rock, flying somehow. Breathing to continue her scream, she fell and hit the surface of the rock right on her tailbone.


    Lightning roared out of the sky, hitting the plains next to the stone and when the afterimages cleared from Alaya¡¯s vision, Talani stood where the bolt had struck. ¡°What happened? Are you okay?¡± Sparks and blue bolts of electricity coruscated over Talani¡¯s body, the sclera in her eyes glowed the same cobalt hue.


    Feet and hands protecting her instinctively, Alaya scrambled back away from Talani on all fours as if gravity had shifted without warning.


    Sparks flashed and burst along her skin while Talani furrowed her brow and examined the area around. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The electricity faded as the last few blazing stars rolled over her skin and fell to the plain. ¡°You¡¯re unharmed.¡±


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    ¡°I should make you answer my question first.¡± Talani smirked. ¡°But no, this was magic, child. Theurgy of the highest form.¡± A few brushed passes down the front of her robes. ¡°Now, why did you scream?¡±


    It took Alaya a few seconds to remember what had happened in the time before a blazing lightning-covered woman appeared before her. ¡°I was floating.¡±


    ¡°Were you? When, how?¡±


    ¡°I mean just now, while I was meditating.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Talani walked over to Alaya and extended her hand. ¡°That is the first task.¡±


    ¡°What? Floating? I was supposed to float?¡± She took Talani¡¯s hand and the old woman pulled Alaya up to her.


    ¡°No, you were supposed to divest yourself of what was holding you down.¡± Talani examined Alaya from head to toe and nodded as if satisfied with what she saw. ¡°And you do appear to be lighter. Very well done.¡±


    She turned back to the shack in the middle of the plains where a circular fire pit provided the only light in the world other than the faint glow from the horizon. ¡°Wait, what else do I need to do?¡±


    ¡°Keep practicing your meditations.¡±


    ¡°But to what end?


    Talani paused in her step. ¡°Leaving this place.¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t you tell me how!¡± It wasn¡¯t a question, but imprecation.


    ¡°I already have. But if you insist on a hint,¡± she pulled her head up and took a deep breath, ¡°there is a thing humanity has done from the beginning of time. We do it when there is no other release from the pain. When all feels hopeless, this provides a single blade of light against the utterdark. It is the task performed before all matters of import.¡± Then she resumed her swift steps back to their fire and home.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what any of that means.¡± Alaya let the words out as a whisper, Talani probably still heard them.¡±


    The next few days proceeded on with the same routine as before. Lessons in the morning and afternoon, leisure time in the evenings.


    Most of the variety in Alaya¡¯s life came from the meals Talani prepared.


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    How someone, anyone, could produce such an incredibly broad menu of dishes with only a wood fire ringed with stones escaped Alaya. She¡¯d lived off the food provided by fabricators with fewer dishes in their memories than Talani. They ate fried and roasted fish, fowl, and meat from the plains. Not once did Talani invite Alaya to hunt game. At least not so far. Alaya had gathered spices for their meals, because that was part of her training.


    Weeks in now, she could meditate and clear her mind in less than a minute. Alaya could tell safe meat from its scent, poisonous mushrooms from their appearance and the texture of their flesh, and all manner of edible grubs and other delicacies from those which might turn her stomach or trouble her digestion. None of these still were useful in the real world, except maybe meditation.


    Would she float in the real world if she tried this there? Alaya couldn¡¯t say, but she¡¯d grown accustomed to the sense of weightlessness at once. Though the void was filled with artificial and natural gravity planes, Alaya had long ago gained her void belly. Zero-G wrapped her in a blanket and gave her the best sleep of her life. Meditation wasn¡¯t exactly the same, but it conveyed a similar sense of splitting off from the world and keeping it from touching her.


    It was the surest way to stave off the sorrow, the guilt, and the rage.


    Almost a week after her first floating meditation session, Alaya asked a question of Talani that had been burning in her mind. ¡°Are theurgists supposed to be pacifists?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Talani snorted and shoveled a few fried grubs into her mouth, crunching them with a smile. ¡°I mean¡­ there is a long thread of non-violence through the core of Theurgists.¡± She swallowed and grunted. ¡°But I don¡¯t like that word though.¡±


    ¡°Pacifist?¡±


    ¡°Theurgist.¡± Talani gave a frown as she spoke.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    She reached down into a pile of herbs at her side and lifted them up to her lap. Alaya had seen Talani smoking her pipe before, but not usually with Alaya nearby, it was usually once Alaya wandered off into the plains to practice or woolgather. Pipe and herbs gathered together and prepared, Talani closed her eyes and whispered something in a language Alaya couldn¡¯t understand over the bowl. With a nod, she ended chant and said, ¡°It reduces what we do to the magic. Which is bassackwards.¡± A flame appeared on the end of Talani¡¯s finger and the herbs in the bowl glowed red as she inhaled. Blue and pink smoke, swirled together as she exhaled. ¡°The truth is that theurgy is incidental to what we are, what we truly do.¡±


    Alaya watched Talani smoke from her pipe several more times before she grew impatient. ¡°And that is?¡±


    ¡°That is,¡± another puff of smoke, ¡°for you to discover yourself.¡±Talani¡¯s eyes glazed over and she rose. ¡°I am going to wander our circle and explore. You should stick to your rock tonight.¡±


    The way she delivered those words, they were partly warnings and partly a command, Alaya didn¡¯t respond right away. ¡°Am I in danger?¡±


    Shaking her head, Talani continued to trudge into the dark. ¡°Have you not been paying attention? The Verse. Is. A. Field. Of. Death. Alive or dead, you are in danger.¡±


    Chill winds punctuated her declaration and Alaya wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The thin, un-dyed robes she wore kept her warm in this place, warmer than she would have expected. But right then, Alaya could feel the cold penetrate to her skin as if passing through the gaps in the primitive weave.


    She wasn¡¯t just always in danger. No, she could feel it tonight. The danger was heightened, more real than normal. Her skin prickled and itched as Alaya stood near the flames and warmed herself. One side blazed with the heat while the other side felt as though icicles would start forming along her flanks. Maybe she could meditate here, near the fire instead of on her rock?


    As if the Summerlands knew her thoughts, the wind roared with a great gust and the fire flickered out after a few desperate attempts to keep itself alight. Lightless now and momentarily blinded by how abrupt the change had been, Alaya froze.


    Never before had the plains felt so menacing. Shadows hooded her sight as she stumbled in the direction of her stone. It was a refuge against the darkness, against the inherent danger of this place. All she had to do was find her way there. Without the benefit of her eyes.


    Birds cackled in the distance and insects chirruped their dusk songs. Each part of the chorus blaring with the sound of proximity alerts. Heartbeat thundering out the lower register sounds, Alaya lost all sense of orientation. She stepped on a divot in the soil and twisted her ankle in the process.


    She bit her tongue to keep from crying out. No sense in calling down Talani¡¯s storms here. Or worse, drawing attention to herself where she lay on the ground. The rush of blood in her ears dulled the sounds of the plains as Alaya hunched down low, giving herself as small a profile as she could. At a pace half again as slow as her heartbeat, the ground shuddered.


    Something was coming. And Alaya was blind, hurt and laying on the ground in the midst of fear paralysis. Transported back in time, Alaya was eight again and the malevolent white suited demon Kowal stalked after her with treads mighty enough to shake the Void itself.


    Alaya squeezed her eyes shut down and began to hyperventilate. If he found her, he would murder her just like her mother and father.


    Just have to be quiet and still. Quiet and still. The pounding steps grew louder and faster. Whatever it was approached with the weight of inevitability behind it. Not a year after her parents¡¯ death, Alaya had witnessed a terrible accident while working on a crew of kids doing technical work in a void yard. A guidance system glitched out, frying itself along with a series of safety systems. Two of the ships they were repairing, both massive freighters intended for hauling iridium and lithium along the Loops, collided with each other with half the underaged crew stuck between them. The size and scales involved meant everyone in the dock could see the accident coming, but no one could move fast enough to save them. The crews tried, tug ships and other systems canned themselves trying to keep the two hulls apart while the kids stuck between them pulled themselves along the smooth metallic surface of the hulls.


    They all died.


    It had been a horrific memory for Alaya, almost as bad as watching her mother die in front of her.


    The stalking beast about to eat Alaya¡¯s soul as payment for her crimes brought with it the same sense of interminable end.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t let it hurt,¡± Alaya kept her eyes squeezed shut, ¡°please let me die quick Verse!¡± Her hushed words echoed forth from Alaya¡¯s lips and reverberated over the plains. With that pulsing vibration, the thudding footsteps ended.


    Alaya opened her eyes to find the sun shining high overhead. A ring of trees surrounded her and at her feet a small stone table the size of a footlocker appeared. ¡°What the¡­¡±


    Talani and eleven other men and women shimmered into view, as if stealth fields faded from around them. All of them wore the same white robes Talani did, but only hers bore gold fringe, only she wore a golden torque around her neck, and the only crown of laurels in the circle adorned her head.


    ¡°Before all matters of import, during all times of strife, and after all triumphs, what must we do?¡± Talani¡¯s voice rang out with a clear tone and the others answered her.


    ¡°Pray.¡±


    Talani nodded and a flame appeared over the stone bench in the center of the circle of trees. She pointed to Alaya though the golden fires. ¡°I charge you to walk the unseen path, to tread the waters of time and bring forth the sweet wine of knowledge. I charge you to know.¡± An invisible force reached out from Talani and struck Alaya in the chest, making her stand and raise her head. ¡°Will you accept this charge?¡±


    Alaya opened her mouth to agree, but then her brain caught up with Talani¡¯s words. She snapped her jaw shut and limped over to the stone bench on her knees. She closed her eyes and bent her head, not entirely sure mechanically how to pray. Please help me with this, Verse?


    This time the wind at her back cooled and soothed. The sprain in her ankle faded, the fear clutching her heart vanished, and with it the sorrow of those children¡¯s deaths from her past. Breezes plucked those aches away and carried them into the flame which shifted from golden to cobalt-blue, the color of lightning.


    ¡°Well done, novice. The Unseen Path is not tread lightly.¡± Talani floated toward Alaya, the sickle she¡¯d worn and used everyday since Alaya met her, now in Talani¡¯s hand. ¡°And it is not done without sacrifice.¡±


    A thrill of tension and fear thrummed through Alaya. What does she mean?


    ¡°Give me your hand and I shall render it to the Verse.¡± Her voice boomed over the ring of trees.


    Alaya raised her gaze and looked over the other eleven people around her. They held up both arms, palms out toward Alaya. Uncertain of what Talani intended, Alaya mimicked the other¡¯s gestures.


    With a stroke faster than Alaya¡¯s eyes could track, Talani cut off her right hand. One moment she held her hands up, the next one of them toppled to the ground. Pain didn¡¯t even begin at first, not before the horror set in.


    Alaya screamed and her voice was joined by a chorus of a dozen other shrieks. Then the pain hit and her vision clouded. Falling forward, Talani caught her and set Alaya on the altaron her back, where she could see the flame. How her mind kept her conscious and out of shock was beyond Alaya. She watched as Talani rounded the altar and lifted up Alaya¡¯s hand. With a flick, she tossed the severed limb into the blue flame. ¡°So mote it be!¡±


    At last Alaya passed out.

 Chapter 26 - Gaz

    ¡°If I tell them the truth, they won¡¯t help me.¡± Gaz stood in the conn with Nathaniel as his ship approached the part of Riggon¡¯s Cluster where the ¡°rogue¡± members of the Root clergy had been. Or where their station had been. The remnants floated in the area, like pieces of ash drifting off of an incinerator. Surprisingly, none of the usual scavengers hovered about the site picking away at those remains.


    ¡°And if you lie to them and they find out?¡±


    Nathaniel¡¯s pointed question hung in the air between them. Gaz worked the problem with her processors on full cycles, reviewing the additional information she¡¯d gleaned from the legitimate Root cleric¡¯s databanks. ¡°They might trap me forever.¡± Those records had shown the Root clerics¡¯ preferred forms of punishment. Not death, but captivity. ¡°But they may choose to do that as soon as they realize what I¡¯ve done.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I do not care for catch-22s.¡±


    That made him laugh. ¡°If you did, that alone would make you unique among the stars.¡±


    It was almost enough to bring out her own laughter. If only the stakes were lower. ¡°They¡¯re the only way I am going to find Alaya. Aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°I do not know. There are other orders of clergy. But none so powerful or common out in the black.¡±


    There was no catch-22 here. Should the Root clergy demand Gaz¡¯s life in exchange for Alaya¡¯s, Gaz would have accepted their offer without wasting another cycle. But the question was, would they make such an exchange or would they simply claim Gaz¡¯s life as punishment for her prior crimes? ¡°I do not care for the uncertainty either.¡±


    This time he didn¡¯t laugh, but Nathaniel just nodded. ¡°Then accept the risk and consequences either way. And I counsel honesty.¡± He paused, as if checking an internal system. ¡°You have three hours before we make contact with the Root clergy¡¯s signal.


    Stranger than the fact the pieces of the destroyed station floated untouched by scavengers in the void was the fact that Nathaniel had detected a signal coming from that wreckage. Neither a distress call nor a positional beacon, it appeared to be a normal communication channel. One which the Root clergy did not respond to. But there was no question from their instrument readouts that people yet lived among the floating pieces of destroyed station.


    Maybe I didn¡¯t kill as many people as I suspected?


    Cyborgs did not need to breathe, sway, or fidget the way baseline humans. Neither did Nathaniel. He stood next to Gaz, both as still as the ancient statues his station aped, for all one hundred eighty three minutes it took their ship to close with the debris of the station.


    One of the good parts of having Nathaniel carry them here was that he could be ostensibly neutral. Alaya and Gaz had made sure to keep a strict firewall between their actions and the assistance he provided. Then again, Nathaniel had accepted the ten reputation points offered by the false Root clerics.


    Fortunately for Gaz, she would have had to voluntarily shiver for her discomfort to be visible to anyone else. Nathaniel knew the risks to himself. Besides, the Root cleric¡¯s pacifism meant they posed little threat to The Pillar of Man.


    Sensors showed the debris cloud expand. Wood, bits of metal, and little spheres of water and gas slammed in to The Pillar of Man¡¯s shields and bounced off harmlessly. The sim interface drew a spheroid around the center of the debris field, indicating the origin of the signal they¡¯d followed here.


    It was a tiny spheroid, no larger than one meter by one meter. Impossibly small.


    ¡°How can that be?¡± Gaz finally moved after three hours of imitating a statue. ¡°They shouldn¡¯t even have enough power to broadcast.¡±


    Pink firelights flickered over Nathaniel¡¯s skin and brightened his eyes. ¡°Magic. That whole area is filled with powerful magic.¡±


    ¡°Should we hail them?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± the lights faded and he turned toward Gaz, ¡°is up to you.¡±


    A virtual interface flickered from Nathaniel to Gaz, the option to contact the Root clerics before her, Gaz once more hesitated. Millions of potential outcomes blazed before her eyes as the milliseconds ticked by. ¡°This is the void ship The Pillar of Man, hailing the remnants of the Root Clergy station. Come in?¡±


    Her voice ricocheted around the conn, the room otherwise silent. Gaz opened her mouth to repeat her hail a minute later, only for a woman¡¯s voice to cut her off. ¡°Acknowledged, The Pillar of Man, maintain distance or you will be fired upon. You may send one skiff with one rider: the cyborg named Gaz. Any other action besides departure will be considered hostile. We¡¯ve announced our warning to the Cluster. Go ahead.¡±


    Nathaniel nodded to confirm the transmission before Gaz responded. ¡°Okay, station, sending one skiff.¡±


    Technically, she could have flown herself into the remnants of the Root clergy¡¯s base. But doing so would have been in contradiction to their demands. Hundreds, no millions, of bodies later, Gaz had never once been called to account for her killings. Sailing into the comm sphere of the Root clergy would, at the very least, be novel.


    The skiff she piloted was larger than the two-meter spheroid Gaz approached. Having given her controls over to the station¡¯s piloting systems, Gaz did not consider the possibility they might run her into their station on purpose. Not until it loomed ahead of her.


    Eyes open and sensors focused on the oncoming dot of black, Gaz recorded the change in space as the black dot opened like a treasure ball, hinged on the side with an incredible scene of wild landsappeared before her.


    And then her skiff¡¯s instruments went berserk. Passing through the opening caused gravity and pressure to immediately assert themselves over the skiff¡¯s mass. Its gravity plane shorted out, the hull whined and complained at the need to adjust, but other than the loss of artificial gravity, nothing else adverse happened to her skiff.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Thirteen people wearing white robes stood in a circle around Gaz¡¯s skiff. They raised their handsand lowered them in unison. At the same time, Gaz¡¯s skiff buckled and dropped until it had hit the surface of the¡­ was this a planet?


    It resembled historical records of the Terran forests or the wood farms of Venus. Neither of which existed today. Gaz stood and complete her final message to Nathaniel and Alaya, in case the clergy captured her, and she stepped to the exit hatch and popped it open.


    Air, more clogged with impurities than she¡¯d ever sampled rushed over her as the seals on her ship opened up. A melange of odors registered in her sensor banks, a list of pheromones, terpines, and other volatiles melded together created an almost three-dimensional view of the world around her.


    Not a second after her sensors sampled the air a force wrapped itself around Gaz and yanked her out of the ship. Beautiful blue skies flipped and spun in counterrotation to Gaz as she landed on the grasses before a woman wearing a golden crown and carrying a long crozier. ¡°The murderer returns.¡±


    It looks like I failed you, Alaya. Gaz prepared her chassis for self-destruct. No one would take her and leave her forever imprisoned. At the very least, Gaz could preemptively avenge Alaya, assuming these people had something to do with her going missing. And if they didn¡¯t then Gaz would have the satisfaction of knowing she¡¯d stopped them from holding her.


    ¡°Do not kill yourself on our account, cyborg.¡± The woman, who¡¯s flaming red hair fluttered in the wind. ¡°Our souls do not want to accept the karmic strike.¡±


    Gaz understood the individual words, but had to take a little bit more time than usual to achieve a broad understanding of them. She tried to speak and found her voice unimpeded. ¡°I don¡¯t see how my death would be your responsibility.¡±


    ¡°That surprises me, but you have a very¡­ mundane view of the world.¡± The unknown woman cocked her head as if listening to another voice and shrugged. ¡°We know why you are here.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And,¡± she straightened her head and flattened her lips, ¡°we wish to hear your appeal from your lips. What do you want from us?¡±


    Negotiation¡­ it was a kind of game intended to reach a compromise between two people. Gaz hated it personally, but mostly because humans had a habit of negotiating in bad faith. Not at all unlike the false root priests. With a little extra processing, she could appeal to them with a level of skill only politicians could have. But instead she chose the truth, heeding Nathaniel¡¯s advice. ¡°I am seeking the woman I love.¡±


    The redheaded woman¡¯s eyes narrowed as a few around the circle nodded. Perhaps they expected her to say this, or perhaps they approved. ¡°This is the same woman who assisted in destroying our station, killing our people, and stealing the star seed.¡± It wasn¡¯t framed as a question. The woman looked Gaz straight in the eyes and said, ¡°if we say no?¡±


    ¡°That depends on whether you let me go.¡± Gaz considered her situation. ¡°Self-destruction is an option.¡±


    Fingers drummed along the shaft of her crozier and the leaded said, ¡°fine. Why do you think we¡¯d be willing to help you?¡±


    ¡°I have no other hope. And I will retrieve Alaya if it kills me.¡±


    Alaya¡¯s name drifted through the circle, whispered by the people gathered around Gaz. The redhead was the last to rasp out Alaya¡¯s name. ¡°In order to retrieve your love, you must retrieve the starseed. There is no other way for us to help you. What you did¡­ has cost the galaxy a thousand years of darkness.¡± Her fingers wrapped around the shaft of her crozier and trembled with the intensity of her grip. ¡°What do you say to that?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t know?¡±


    Sucking in breath as if to shout at Gaz, the redhead slowly let her air out through pursed lips. ¡°You didn¡¯t know.¡± Her eyes flicked to another person in the circle. ¡°Did you know there were hundreds of innocent people aboard our station when you destroyed it?¡±


    ¡°We¡­ I did.¡± Gaz bowed her head, awaiting the fall of the axe blade.


    ¡°And why did you steal the starseed?¡±


    ¡°Because we believed we were retrieving it for the rightful owners.¡± Honesty, Gaz. ¡°And because they paid us.¡±


    At the final words the redheaded woman nodded. ¡°You said you loved her, would you die for her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The answer came even faster than Gaz¡¯s digital synapses could process.


    ¡°Then you will be our agent, you will retrieve the starseed and return it to us.¡± The woman¡¯s voice boomed over Gaz, pushing her back as the force holding her shook. ¡°And if you fail, the Verse herself shall claim her due.¡± One beat of the crozier and angry red lightning struck from the ground. Crimson red sparks sprayed across Gaz and digital systems began spitting out error after error. The electric charge from the woman¡¯s magical assault carved itself a path into Gaz¡¯s mind.


    A dozen voices joined in chorus with the electrical blaze, curling into her consciousness as the magic took hold. Rictus would have taken her limbs if not for the paralysis holding her. And then it ended, leaving Gaz¡¯s perceptions floating in a haze of ochre light. ¡°Do you accept this mandate?¡±


    Stripped of her digital accessories, the trappings of her form, Gaz had no way to offload the cognitive load to her processors. If she wanted Alaya back, her only option was to agree. ¡°Yes.¡±


    The magic gripped her, rang her out like the last drops of water in a bag, and then released her where she fell onto the ground. Her mass, what she¡¯d accumulated in the time since the false Root priests had attacked her, shattered and spread across the loam like spilled oil.


    None of the Root priests assembled moved away from the dispersed nanites. It took laborious seconds for Gaz to reassert control over her disparate parts. In the process, the redheaded woman quirked her eyebrow at Gaz¡¯s activities. But did not speak until Gaz stood up before her. ¡°You believe us weak because we do not kill our foes.¡±


    Honesty. With her control back, Gaz could think and reason again. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do.¡± The redhead simply nodded and opened her right hand as if offering candy to Gaz. ¡°And you are desperately mistaken.¡±


    This time the light from her magic created a faint green glow as it struck Gaz¡¯s face. Her perceptions shifted from the strange world she stood on back to the space around The Pillar of Man. Faint projections flitted about Nathaniel¡¯s ship, holograms representing the past. Gaz made out the Mousehome among those images as well as the security ships patrolling the cordon around the station. The station itself returned, time rewinding as the section of the hull they¡¯d blown off tumbled back into contact with the station and smoothed itself out.


    Something pulled Gaz¡¯s vision inside of the station. The people who Alaya and Evan killed, they died for certain. But as time reverted to its usual flow, people vanished from the Root station one by one, speeding up as the station¡¯s end approached.


    ¡°Those who perished gave themselves so the Root may yet live on.¡± The redheaded woman¡¯s narration intruded into the vision. Large blazing candle flames rose up across the station as the Mousehome barreled into her side and bore away the seed they¡¯d been protecting. By the time the station fully collapsed, no one remained aboard.


    The vision faded and the redheaded woman loomed over Gaz. ¡°Now go, you pollute our sanctuary with your presence and we must banish what you carried with you.¡±


    The same telekinetic force which had held her in place now lifted Gaz up and carried her back to the skiff. Its door was still open, and it shut on its own accord when Gaz alighted into the pilot¡¯s chair. Then, without directions from Gaz, the ship shuddered and rose. Still bound by the Root priests¡¯ powers, Gaz and her skiff flew up and back the way they came. Without access to the skiff¡¯s sensors, Gaz couldn¡¯t say whether the portal back to the void was still open.


    Space¡¯s night-black embrace washed over her as Gaz and the ship reentered void. The gravity plane remained inoperative, but the engines and the hull were intact. Meters from the spheroid where the comms signal originated, the telekinetic force released her and she directed her ship back to The Pillar of Man.


    A lone timer ticked off seconds in the lower left section of her visual field. Gaz had not put that timer in place, it was the same crimson shade as the Root clerics¡¯ lightning. And it would run down in seven days.


    That was how long she had to retrieve the starseed.

 Chapter 27 - Alaya

    Screams roared out of Alaya¡¯s throat as she woke. Where her hand should have been, her right hand, she had only a bandaged stump. Her screams only intensified then. ¡°What did you do, what did you do¡­¡± the words spilled over each other as she hyperventilated. It took Alaya waking to full consciousness before her mind settled. They¡¯d maimed her, but in a surprisingly meaningless way. It would cost so little, Alaya could scrounge together enough to pay it despite her garnishment to have that limb replaced. If only she weren¡¯t trapped in the Summerlands.


    No one answered her cries.


    Once she¡¯d meditated and calmed sufficiently, Alaya found herself back in the shack where Talani had been teaching her. But the attack on her body had represented such a deep violation, such a gross abuse of Alaya¡¯s trust, she didn¡¯t want to see the woman right then. Maybe ever again.


    At the same time, she was terrified Talani had abandoned her. What if Alaya was alone now? With only one hand, how was she going to gather food or herbs? How would she provide for herself?


    It had been a meaningless act of pain¡­ torture. And yet Alaya yearned for the old woman to come and tend her, to assure her this was all part of their test. Maybe this was the last thing Alaya had to do: accept her missing limb.


    NO! Her mind rebelled at the thought, instinct balking at the possibilities. Even if this were all in her imagination, even if this act was symbolic¡­


    Alaya fell back onto her mattress and moaned. Her stump ached, moving it felt worse than breaking her bone because the dried blood and bits of flesh tore away from her arm with the fabric. She bit her lip and immediately regretted it. Somewhere in the recent past she¡¯d bitten through or almost through her mouth. And she was not ready to repeat that experience.


    Knees curled to her chest and right arm resting on her thigh, Alaya wept. She wanted Gaz, not Talani. She wanted to chat with Kirk and joke about how easy it would be to replace a severed hand. Even Isham, quiet and vaguely terrifying, Alaya would have traded her shack, mattress, and robe for a ten minute conversation. Even knowing the other man would probably say fewer than forty words.


    No implants to mark the time and the unchanging light piercing the wooden slats of the shack meant Alaya had no idea how much time passed or whether it was light or dark.


    ¡°Are you going to mope in there this whole time?¡± Talani¡¯s voice was scornful, almost angry at Alaya.


    Anything else and Alaya might have tried to press her thing blanket over her ears and shut the old woman out. But that anger¡­ Alaya met it with her own. ¡°How dare you!¡± Pain all but forgotten, she tore out of her bed and smashed the shack¡¯s door off of its leather hinges. ¡°You cut off my fucking hand!¡±


    There was no sense to her attack, no reason or tactics. All Alaya wanted was to hurt Talani in any way she could, from slight to significant. As a result, she flailed at the old woman uselessly as Talani countered her clumsy attacks. When Alaya ran out of energy, she flagged and Talani switched from casually deflecting her blows to the offensive.


    Two strikes was all it took, the first was barely worthy of the name. A foot snaked out from Talanis¡¯s side and caught Alaya right behind her ankle. Then, with a perfunctory shove, Talani sent Alaya crashing onto her backside. ¡°Are you done?¡±


    Again, that scorn and impatience sent Alaya into a fury. Her left hand and two feet still working fine, she hop-crawled toward the hem of Talani¡¯s robes, seeking to bite, scratch, or stab the old woman with whatever Alaya happened to find convenient.


    This time Talani¡¯s response was swift and devastating. She snap-kicked Alaya in the face, took a step to the side as Alaya¡¯s head rocked back and kicked her in the upper back. The block rocketed Alaya¡¯s in the ground, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her almost senseless. ¡°Ugh.¡±


    Foot on her back, Talani hissed, ¡°are you done now?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you, you monster!¡± the words crawled out of her throat with as much effort as it had taken Alaya to crawl back to Talani in the first place.


    ¡°There is no reason to accept food from someone as depraved as me then.¡± No warning, nothing, Talani hefted Alaya up by the waist and dragged her away from the shack. ¡°This camp is for humans only. Beasts and the wild are food here. Begone until you rediscover your humanity.¡±


    She tossed Alaya a meter from the campfire, fully into the darkness. Crumpled and in so much pain she could barely open her eyes, Alaya let unconsciousness pull her under.


    When she awoke, Alaya shivered from a severe chill which had fallen over her in the night. Wet robes combined with the brisk air sucked away her warmth, reducing Alaya to a filthy, shivering mass.


    What happened? What had she done to earn this from Talani? At first Alaya had been wary of the old woman, had distrusted her. But months of care and training had produced a shift in Alaya¡¯s thinking. And then for Talani to turn about like that¡­ It was hard not to imagine Alaya had done something to deserve this treatment.


    Stiff muscles, aggravated by the cold and unwilling to uncoil, had to be coaxed to let Alaya rise from the ground. As with the time she¡¯d broken her arm, Alaya had to avoid sending screaming nerve pain up into the base of her skull by misplacing her stump. Time and again she hit something accidentally as she tried to sit up. By the time she was vertical, Alaya¡¯s voice had given out from the whimpering cries.


    There was no fire now. No campsite. No shack.


    What in the all the Verse? As far as she could tell, Alaya sat in the plains alone. Not even her meditation stone remained. So much despair and pain running through her, Alaya was not ashamed then that even meditation did not occur to her. Slowly warming up, Alaya stood faster than she¡¯d sat up. Maybe she¡¯d simply rolled away in the night?


    But no, even with vantage of height, all sign of Talani or her camp had vanished. It wasn¡¯t fair, if the cruel old woman was gone, Alaya¡¯s hand should have come back. Limping from cramps in her thighs, something which Alaya had never experienced before, she made little progress in terms of investigating her circumstances. What short few steps she managed did not then reveal a carefully hidden fire or camp.


    She was truly alone.


    Tears welled up in her eyes and Alaya choked down her sobs. She¡¯d lost far worse than a limb or a mad teacher more interested in pain than lessons. This was nothing. Eventually, if she repeated the sentence enough, Alaya was sure she¡¯d eventually believe it.


    Her right arm came up to wipe her tears away, but the back of her hand had been tossed into a fire. At that point, Alaya¡¯s stomach rebelled. Dry heaves shook her as she tried to empty a stomach already bereft of contents. It only made her more aware of the hunger clinging to her midsection.


    Relax little boop. Now Alaya knew she was going mad. Her father appeared next to her, his hand on her back as the retching faded slowly.


    ¡°Daddy?¡± Alaya had called him father in her head since she¡¯d been six and declared herself too old to call him ¡°daddy¡± anymore.


    ¡°Hey boop. You look a little rough.¡±


    It should have been impossible, but Alaya wrapped her arms around her daddy¡¯s neck and screamed in joy. All thought of abandonment vanished; Talani who? The scent of her father¡¯s skin washed over her. He¡¯d favored soap and clean water for his cleanliness routine, but no matter how fresh from the showers Alaya had found him, he¡¯d always carried a distinct aroma of electronic parts along with him a little cloud. No doubt in her mind right then: the most significant reason Alaya maintained her interest in technical repairs was to surround herself with anything reminiscent of her father.


    And here he was. In the Summerlands.


    Alaya pulled away from him. ¡°Is this real?¡±


    His smile brightened the sky, casting away the darkness which had covered the heavens when Alaya woke. ¡°There is no fake, boop. There is no artificial in all the Verse.¡±


    Hairs stood up on end. That didn¡¯t sound like her father. This time she pushed him away and took a defensive posture. The bandaged stump on her right arm wavered at the bottom of her peripheral vision.


    Shock registered across her father¡¯s face, apparent surprise at her reaction. But the chirping of the insects had stopped in the plains. No birds whistled their songs into the air, and nothing crawled or slithered through the plains grasses to set them swaying. Blue skies stretched over her father¡¯s head,frozen like a still image.


    He was the only source of motion around. His was the only rasping breath which broke the silence of the plains. The smell of her father lingered, as if stretched over the space between them. But that was not her daddy.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± She narrowed her eyes and bent her knees, going lower to the ground in preparation for a fight.


    For a second, he stilled. If not for the frozen tableau behind him, Alaya might not have noticed. Then he sighed and shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s easier for both of us if you just accept who I am.¡± Now they sounded nothing like her father, nothing like him except for the quality of his voice. The pace, the inflection, and the choice of words was all wrong. ¡°This could make it take¡­¡±


    She punched him, left handed, leaning in and put the whole of her weight behind it. It hardly even knocked his head back. He blinked at her right before Alaya rushed him and leaped atop him. All sense of reason abandoned her as she wailed on him, with her hand and even with the blunt end of her ruined arm. ¡°Bring my daddy back!¡± Even in the midst of her screams, Alaya couldn¡¯t have explained what she meant. It didn¡¯t even slow her down.


    But the thing posing as her father hardly registered the blows. Baselines would set their jaw, tuck their chins, and move with the punch to lighten the blow. The fake did none of those, just lay there absorbing the blows as if they meant nothing. This time when he spoke, he abandon all sign of her father¡¯s voice. ¡°Are you done?¡±


    She¡¯d expected Talani, but a deep male voice spoke the words.


    ¡°No!¡± Struggling to keep her balance, she leaned off of him and swept the darkness for a rock. Ironically, it was her father¡¯s voice in her mind, reaching over the gulf of time, which suggested the course of action. ¡°If your hands fail, find a tool.¡±


    The man who¡¯s skull she¡¯d been trying to bash in rolled in the direction of Alaya¡¯s grasping search, toppling her onto the ground and freeing himself. He stood while Alaya was trying to get her feet under her knees, a process made all the more difficult due to her missing hand.


    A half step back and Alaya braced herself for the coming kick. Nothing came. When she opened her eyes she hunched alone among the grasses. The sim trapping her resumed playback and the flora and fauna resumed their nighttime chorus.


    If it had been a real sim, Alaya could have woken herself up. Provided she wasn¡¯t jarred and brain-locked. That had never happened to her before, so she could only guess. This still wasn¡¯t right, it was too gritty, too real for a simulation. Of course, that might have been the point.


    Standing took more out of her than she would have guessed. Hunger clawed at her belly, an old friend trying to break through the walls of her gut and spill itself onto the floor.


    ¡°Water, I need to find water first.¡± Old spacer rules. Air came first, then water, then food. She could breathe no problem, and she was hungry. But if she didn¡¯t do something about her water situation she¡¯d die before the hunger pangs really even started in earnest. Starvation was something Alaya had grown familiar with over the years.


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    Focus on her needs gave her a chance to shut the episode with her fake-father out. Whatever was happening here, she wasn¡¯t convinced this was training anymore. The moment she stopped actively hunting for something to drink, the stranger wearing her father¡¯s face intruded into her consciousness.


    Too many matters to concentrate on meant Alaya narrowly picked up the strange, unfamiliar musical burble lilting through the grasses to her right. The plain¡¯s uniformity meant no direction was better than the others. But that gurgling hiss¡­ that was something new. She stumbled toward it, aware only then that the sky had changed to dark black from light blue. It was already nighttime again.


    How long she wandered toward the burble, Alaya could not say. But no matter how fast she moved or how far, she never seemed to close with it. Had she been this tired when her father appeared? An out of place croak behind her spun Alaya around. She¡¯d expected to find the fake father looming over her, but the plains were empty. She crouched low and peered into the darkness, willing herself to penetrate the veil of shadow before what or whomever stalked her caught up. Nothing.


    Turning to give her ears a chance to hone in on the roiling sound, Alaya refined her path as she set out for her new goal again. This time she moved slowly, deliberately so as not to drown out any sound which might have reached her and given her a new course. But the aural environment remained unchanged, like their foley artist had grown lazy with this part of the simulation.


    Lips cracked and tongue dry, Alaya could no longer wet them to keep them from stinging. Her eyes felt gummy, like she¡¯d gotten oil or resin stuck in them. The knuckles on her hands cracked and burned from the air blowing over them. But no blood leaked out of the wound, as if her body conserved her precious moisture.


    Had the sky¡¯s color turned blue and black again? Alaya reviewed her memory clumsily, no assistants or registers to tell her exactly where to start and how to play back her sensory impressions. Garbled strains of thought flickered by her, the names of herbs she could have chewed to give herself energy, the shape of the safe-to-eat mushrooms growing along the ground, and¡­ prayer.


    A paucity of hope choked her, poured dry sand down the back of her throat, and sent twinges of pain through the place where her missing limb should have been. There was nothing else to do besides wander aimlessly and die. Might as well pray.


    ¡°Whatever I did, Verse. Please help me. I just want to get back to Gaz, I just want to live, I just want to find Kowal and the monsters who killed my mommy and daddy.¡± Six-year-old Alaya spoke up at the end of her prayer.


    Eyes closed and focusing on the words, Alaya felt the warmth build in her chest intensely. When she opened her eyes, a golden ball of light hovered before her chest. She fell onto her side in shock, but the golden sphere didn¡¯t so much as move. It just hung there half a meter above the ground waiting for her.


    ¡°What in the void?¡± At her question the sphere brightened and the comforting light it gave off changed direction, focusing itself more or less in the direction Alaya had been going before she knelt and prayed. ¡°Is that the way I should go?¡±


    The sphere zipped along, accompanied by actual music. It was the first time Alaya had heard something like that since she¡¯d been trapped her. Most wonderful.


    She found herself afoot and stumbling after the sphere¡¯s course in moments. It waited for her, its music changing as when it did. Before she closed within a meter of it, it moved along. Repeating the pattern twelve more times, Alaya tripped over a ripple in the ground when the sphere vanished before her.


    Water splashed around her, soaking her instantly when she broke the surface of the water. Water. Her body and mind reacted with instinct. Scooping up the precious flow, she failed to capture any with her missing right hand, but she managed to snag a few blessed drops with her left. Those tiny balls of fluid spread over the surface of her tongue, soaked themselves into her lips, and dissolved the knot of sand collected in her throat. It wasn¡¯t enough. Alaya wasn¡¯t certain in the moment that it would ever be enough. She dove her face under the surface of the water and drank as deeply as she could.


    Nothing in her life had ever tasted as sweet.


    Alaya came up for air only when she absolutely had no choice. And then only long enough to gasp down a lungful of air before dipping her face back under the surface. She took no count of how many times she dipped her face into the stream, how many times she took a breath. When her belly was full to bursting, she rolled herself out of the stream and lay on her right side.


    Exhausted and no longer in immediate danger, Alaya started to pass out, her eyes fluttering as she did so. There was something she needed to do first. ¡°Thank you Verse,¡± her next words were quieter, ¡°I miss you daddy.¡±


    When she woke, her hand felt odd. Like there was something stuck between her wrist and the base of her palm. Alaya swatted at it only to splash herself and find her hand missing. That brought her out of her stupor in a moment.


    The sun rose overhead, casting golden light over Alaya. Little white tufts floated through the light blue sky-ocean like islands or void ships shrouded in clouds of gases. One of mother¡¯s lessons rang back to her: ¡°the word ¡°cloud,¡± was originally used for collections of water vapor high in the Earth¡¯s atmosphere.¡± Mother tapped a button on the projector and a view of the Venusian sky settlements came into focus. ¡°On Venus they use the same word for the caustic collection of gases and chemicals which chokes their skies. Mars did not have clouds in the strict sense ¡ª dust storms aside ¡ª until the terraforming projects reached their mid point.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen real clouds before?¡±


    Mother¡¯s face interceded between Alaya and the clouds. ¡°What does that word mean, ¡°real?¡± Are the clouds on Venus fake? What if they were older than the oldest clouds on Earth?¡±


    ¡°Original clouds, I guess?¡± Alaya answered the way she might have back in her youth.


    ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± Mother swung her hand around and pointed to a particularly jagged and broad cloud. ¡°When humans were still trapped on their rocky home, those clouds were one of the first sources of dreams. We wanted to join with them, to sail among them as free as the birds and the butterflies.¡±


    ¡°We did, eventually?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. Humanity has become the cloud, filling the system with ourselves, spreading out in every direction like gases released from confinement.¡± As mother spoke, the white jaded puffball expanded too. Without her sensory enhancements, Alaya couldn¡¯t focus on any part of the cloud, couldn¡¯t pick out the details, other than the faint gradients which suggested depth and mass.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s pretty.¡±


    Mother¡¯s smile broader over her face, practically splitting her cheeks and emphasizing the dimples at the edges of her lips. ¡°That demonstrates how well we¡¯ve taught you.¡±


    Again, lacking her own cybernetics, Alaya felt handicapped, more so even than she did on account of her missing hand. But something in mother¡¯s words set off an alarm in her mind. ¡°You¡¯re not her, are you?¡±


    ¡°I am not, no.¡± Mother shook her head, backing away from Alaya as if conscious of the possibility of being attacked.


    Whoever this was should have turned themselves into mother in the first place. Alaya had no urge to claw, bite, or kick her now. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°If you can tell me my name, I will tell you the secret to your final trial.¡± Alaya opened her mouth, but fake-mother put a finger on her lips. ¡°You only get one guess.¡± She winked at Alaya. ¡°Make it count.¡±


    Then again, if they¡¯d done that the first time with mother Alaya might have attacked them on the spot. The second time she opened her mouth to give an answer, her own mind flashed back to the previous night, to the prayer which invoked the sphere which then saved her life. ¡°Verse,¡± Alaya closed her eyes to pray, ¡°thank you for guiding me, thank you for helping me find water, if whoever this is was sent by you, please help me answer their question correctly.¡±


    ¡°Very good¡­¡± mother¡¯s voice faded into the background of the bubbling water, ¡°you guessed it in one.¡±


    When she opened her eyes little sparkling lights floated around mother¡¯s outline. A split second elapsed and those sparkling lights enlarged into galaxies, and from galaxies into whole universes. Alaya hung in the void, standing so close to emerging novae the shear intensity of the magnetic eruptions should have shredded her body. Waves of energy buffeted her, more than any void ship, more than Sol, and even more than was contained in every atom in her solar system. ¡°What?¡±


    The word echoed and shattered the glass ball surrounding Alaya, sent her tumbling back into her body where she lay on the bank of a stream. Her ruined right arm lay in the middle of the stream, soaked, wrinkled, and itchy. All hint of the sparkling outline of the Verse was gone.


    But when Alaya sat up and looked around, her eyes caught the glint of something shining where mother had been. Using her left hand, she brushed the dirt off of it it until she found the edges. They were sharper than she expected and they cut her fingertips when she tugged on them. Ignoring the pain, Alaya found a bit of twig and a small rock and used them like a lever to hoist the shining disc out of the mud and into her palm.


    Its surface rippled with a wave pattern trapped forever in the body of the disc. While she used that word, disc, for it, the object was hardly round. It tapered at one side, where the waves originated and widened at the opposite side where the waves expanded. Turning it over, Alaya found golden script etched into the smooth concave surface of the¡­ rock? She¡¯d never seen anything like the flowing, connected script filled with gold, nor had she ever seen a piece of stone so thin, sharp, or delicate in her life. It was closer to glass or bone than rock.


    The words twisted and tangled in her sight. They didn¡¯t give her a headache, not exactly, but they made it hard for Alaya to stare at the shimmering characters. ¡°What is¡­¡± She knew what to do. It had been the answer from the very beginning. Pain, the shock of losing her, hand, and the sting of betrayal benumbed Alaya¡¯s no longer. Supporting the little stone in the palm of her hand, she covered it with her right forearm and shut her eyes. ¡°Verse. Thank you for the help. Thank you for letting me see my mother¡­ and my father again.¡± It was harder to say those words than she¡¯d expected. ¡°Please help me read this, I know it¡¯s important.¡±


    When she opened her eyes, the golden, flowing script had shifted into something else, something clearly mystical and related to or derived from the same substance as the golden ball which had led her to this stream. And she could read the words. It was a list, a strange list:


    Alium, locust wing, serpent¡¯s scale, and the shell of a self-cracked egg. Speak the words: what followed were a nonsense set of syllables, something which twisted her tongue and took more tries to pronounce correctly than she might have guessed upon first inspection.


    Absent Talani¡¯s training, Alaya would have barely known the meaning of the words on the rock. ¡°Locust,¡± ¡°alium,¡± and even ¡°serpent¡± were words without antecedent for her, not until she¡¯d been trapped here in the Summerlands. But not only did Alaya know those words, she knew more or less how to acquire them.


    Alium was easiest. Little blue flowers dotted the edge of the stream where Alaya had awoken. A little digging with her improvised shovel later and Alaya had a few bulbs of wild garlic in her robes. With no pockets or sack to carry them around, Alaya stripped out of her robe and tied it into something like a sack.


    Her body had grown lean and gained an impressive trail of muscles. Never in her life had she been so fit, not that she was entirely convinced she yet lived. It would have been nice to look¡­ Alaya snickered at herself and set the bundle down at her feet.


    Hunching over the stream, she stared down into the waters. Ripples distorted the image, but she could see herself in full for the first time in¡­ months? How would she know. Cheeks lean and approaching hollow cast severe shadows over her features. But her eyes were neither sunken nor bloodshot. They were remarkably clear and bluer than the skies. Were my eyes blue in the real? Somehow, she couldn¡¯t remember. Her shoulders had grown bulk as well as her arms and legs. Mass made a difference for cyborgs. The simple fact was heavier, stronger parts took more damage and dealt more damage. But Alaya had always preferred sleek and trim over what she thought of a ¡°bulky.¡± But the woman¡¯s body, her body, which stared back at her resembled the ancient statues of heroes her mother had once shown Alaya. Ignoring her missing hand and the bandages wrapped about it, Alaya looked beautiful.


    When she stared at the place where her hand should have been, she¡¯d expected to be repulsed. But instead she was merely curious. Most of the horror had faded. Alaya¡¯s real body would not even miss a hand. Every part was plastic, composites, and metal. A hand was trivial to rebuild, especially if she didn¡¯t care how strong or dexterous it was.


    Actually, the asymmetry is kinda pretty.


    She shook herself and hefted her robe-sack. No reason to look back at the stream, Alaya walked the bank looking for tracks or a game trail she could use to find the rest of the materials listed on her little rock.


    Midday came and passed before Alaya spotted the tell-tale swishing pattern of a snake¡¯s path. Wave-like and faded, it led away from the stream as a near perfect right angle. Before she left, Alaya took several drinks from the stream, worried she¡¯d not be able to find it if she left the water behind.


    The tracks¡¯ age worried Alaya, made her wonder if she¡¯d made a mistake in following it. Time had worn down the edges of the troughs the serpentine movement left in the soft ground. But it neither rain nor wind had completely wiped those tracks away. Intense focus gave Alaya an advantage, she¡¯d slowed to a crawl as she followed the tracks, checking them for any sign of the snake who¡¯d made them. If it was poisonous or otherwise dangerous, she would not want to come upon it unaware. Bits of dried grass crunched under her bare feet, setting Alaya¡¯s mind on edge. Each crunch or hiss was surely an angry snake about to defend its home. But then she brushed aside more of the dried plant matter with her twig.


    It didn¡¯t react the way she¡¯d expected, drawing a bunch of dirt and leaves along with it as she slid the mass aside. Something bound those little bits of light brown¡­ paper to the rest of the matter on the ground. As carefully as she could, Alaya raised the bundle and examined it. This wasn¡¯t paper. This was a serpent¡¯s skin, discarded before the snake grew bigger and presumably slithered away. It was covered with scales.


    Dancing in jubilation, Alaya plucked away the extra bits of detritus and let them spiral to the ground. Free from unnecessary pieces of grass and twigs, Alaya pulled her bundle from under her right arm and stuffed the discarded snake skin in with her collection of garlic. Halfway done, Alaya slowly turned around to survey the plains.


    For the first time since escaping the swamp, Alaya discovered a new area of the Summerlands, its borders faded into the horizon asa dense line of shadow. Forest. She¡¯d known that word before Talani had introduced her to it. Martian and Venusian wood farms would never have let someone like Alaya or Gaz wander their grounds. Not with how expensive their produce was. So she¡¯d never seen anything like a forest, not for real. Simulations on the other hand had fascinated her exactly because the wealthy who owned the forests wouldn¡¯t let her walk among their roots.


    Ignoring the descending sun, Alaya checked to make sure her bundle was secure and ran toward the forest. There she was more likely to find both locusts and eggs, even if she might have to climb one of those trees to get them. Talani had said as much, though not all at once. And Alaya trusted her teachings, despite losing a hand to her. The woman herself, Alaya reserved judgment.

 Chapter 28 - Gaz

    Six days twenty-two hours, thirty-seven minutes. Gaz marked the time as Nathaniel spoke to her over comms. ¡°I suggest a mercenary company or a specialist group out of one of the Cluster security forces.¡±


    ¡°Security forces?¡± The infoNet broadcast had said nothing about security forces, implying to Gaz that these anarchists and outcasts entirely eschewed such forces. ¡°I was not aware the cluster maintained such structures.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, these aren¡¯t official. Mercs and specialists often work out of the cluster to avoid MilCAS and other Loop Nation regulations.¡±


    ¡°There is no way for me to pay them.¡±


    ¡°You mean you have no way to pay them.¡±


    Gaz performed a review of her time spent aboard The Pillar of Man. ¡°I would estimate you¡¯ve lost at least a week of labor to me.¡±


    ¡°Way more than that, if we¡¯re playing op-cost games.¡± He chuckled over comms. ¡°But I don¡¯t play those games, Gaz. My time is valuable, sure. But that is exactly why I am the only one who gets to decide how I spend it or how valuable it is.¡±


    What did she say to that? ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Please, it¡¯s important to me that you give me a chance to share what I have with you and yours.¡±


    At that point, Gaz¡¯s primary processors hit redline and she pulled a bank of coprocs in to assist. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s fine. You don¡¯t really need to understand.¡± He flashed a data packet to her. ¡°You just need to accept I am happy to aid you.¡±


    The data packet included three different mercenary companies, two of them flew routes at the edges of the Cluster, happy to participate in security operations related to newcomers. Apparently the Nelissan Arm flagship skipping into the cluster wasn¡¯t unique.


    Felina¡¯s Void Sharks were the group who managed to blow up and then scavenge the Nelissan arms ship when it translated in. They weren¡¯t the largest mercenary company by a large margin, but they possessed a small fleet of uniformly modern ships. Unlike the other companies, Felina made sure her fleets were constantly upgraded. Gaz wondered if they¡¯d managed to pull the skip-engine off of the Nelissan Arms flagship intact as she said, ¡°why three companies when it¡¯s clear Felina¡¯s is the most likely to help us?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to funnel you into one avenue without giving you the option. Besides, have you checked the flags for her company?¡±


    ¡°Flags?¡± Gaz redirected internal processors to full review of the file. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Felina was a maverick among mavericks. The file was filled with notes about her eccentric fees and suggestions that the other mercs who worked in the Cluster avoided her out of a mixture of fear and distrust. Of the three mercenary companies Nathaniel sent Gaz, the Void Sharks had the lowest reputation by far.


    ¡°Does this mean we can¡¯t trust them?¡±


    Nathaniel didn¡¯t answer right away. ¡°Yes and I no I suppose. They¡¯re wealthy in terms of materials, manpower, that sort of thing. But they need the work, which means they¡¯re hungry.¡±


    Gaz could put together the rest. Someone like Felina might betray Gaz if she saw an opportunity to satisfy her hunger. ¡°What¡¯s the reputation of the false Root clerics?¡±


    This time he sent Gaz logs from cluster-level reputation review. With no central authority managing the reputation system, the cluster relied on a communitarian system of checks and confirmations. After receiving the ten-point rep bump from the Root Clergy, Nathaniel had initiated the review. It had only taken a few weeks, but at the end, the cluster determined the false Root clerics should be treated as a separate organization. He¡¯d effectively bankrupted them within the cluster, all because they¡¯d been cheating ¡ª somehow ¡ª and using the actual Root clerics¡¯ rep. ¡°How did that happen?¡±


    ¡°The logs don¡¯t say, but only someone with bursar authorization can initiate a rep transfer. In other words, the Root clerics have a highly placed defector who transferred their loyalties.¡±


    ¡°You put a stop to that.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. The false Root clerics had been on a mad selling spree since losing their reputation marks in the cluster. Without means to pay, they couldn¡¯t trade for essential goods or services. So they¡¯d been hemorrhaging wood, breathable air, and even manpower to the other groups in the cluster. Based on the transaction record ¡ª the public parts anyway ¡ª the false Root clerics had transferred thousands of tonnes of matter to the rest of the cluster in a little under a year. And their reputation still hadn¡¯t peaked over 30. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°Right, the good news there is that the false Root clerics are not nearly as wealthy in terms of reputation than they were. Which also means they are less likely to have the means to hire Felina¡¯s crew out from under us.¡±


    ¡°Us?¡±


    ¡°One of the factors I think you misunderstand is that I am not pleased with this group.¡± Humor leaked into Nathaniel¡¯s voice. ¡°They made me party to their fraud. I haven¡¯t paid the original Root clerics back in rep, but I intend to clear a personal debt with them. If that means spending rep and time fixing the mess I contributed to, so be it.¡±


    Strange notions of debt and ownership must have floated through Nathaniel¡¯s head. As far as Gaz was concerned, it was because of his astronomical wealth. His reputation was over 80, close to what the authentic Root clerics now had. ¡°Let¡¯s initiate contact with Felina and see what she wants in terms of payment.¡±


    The Pillar of Man dwarfed the Void Shark¡¯s flagship by at least two orders of magnitude. Outside of the cluster, where ship sizes were more or less standardized, Gaz would have designated The Pillar of Man as a Dreadnought class ship. Only dedicated military ships and massive civilian generational vessels were larger. The Void Shark¡¯s flagship, ¡°The Megalodon¡± would have been a destroyer class ship.


    It had a flat, wide nose with an ovular opening at the front. Other ships might have used it for mass collection or as a way to prevent stellar collisions. But the scans showed a massive energy weapon in that nose. It was the source of the red killing light which had obliterated the Nelissan Arms missiles and later their power stations. The rest of The Megalodon tapered back from the nose and bristled with weaponry. PDCs, railguns, and phased pulse weapons made up most of the armaments with both drone deployment stations and missiles along the lateral sections of the ship.


    Calling up the name in the local Net, Gaz discovered that the ship was designed to resemble an ancient, long extinct eponymous shark. Based on the scans, part of the ship past the nose could bend and flex. Why it would do that was beyond Gaz¡¯s ken. She set a coprocessor to investigate that while she watched the ship match The Pillar of Man¡¯s trajectory.


    Felina herself was anthrocyborg. When she appeared on comms she did so with tufted cat ears, puffy cheeks, and fangs. White and black stripes trailed down the sides of her body. Her legs had an inverted knee structure and fur covered most of her, with her face being the primary exception. She spoke in purring tones and welcomed The Pillar of Man¡¯s commerce.


    As a way to open bargaining Nathaniel had offered to install one set of cyberbrain upgrades. She¡¯d jumped at the offer, with the understanding that she wanted to negotiate all further deals herself.


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    Nathaniel joined Gaz in the skiff ship which docked with The Megalodon. Gravity flipped almost orthogonally when their skiff connected to the other ship, asserting the hull¡¯s exterior as ¡°down¡±. Oftentimes captains set the grav planes to a flat section of the ship, some the underbelly, sometimes an arbitrary midline through the entirety of the vessel. Axial gravity was something of a novelty. Not that Nathaniel or Gaz would have trouble with it.


    The airlock opened to admit them and Gaz stepped into a completely different world. Bones, scales, and the preserved heads of strange creatures hung from the walls. Like an ancient, primitive people had invaded this place and decorated it according to their superstitions. It was certainly different.


    Alaya would love this.


    Gaz leaned against the metal wall for a moment as she indulged in a recorded memory of Alaya, this one of the young woman waking up next to Gaz on a recent mission. The way she stretched and fluttered her eyelids always brought a smile to Gaz¡¯s lips.


    No one met them as they followed a marker trail through the ship. A few hundred meters away from their entry point, the walls opened into an aquarium. From where they stood Gaz¡¯s optics could neither detect the surface of the water nor its floor. In order to miss the massive, atavistic shark swimming through the water, Gaz would have had to disable a host of her sensors.


    It was a megalodon. Based on her scans, it was fully organic. She couldn¡¯t be certain, but there were no detectable nano-systems in the shark, nor was it hybrid cyborg creature. Several passes across the window, the creature showed off its sides and the fins which let it slide through the water. Could it be smart enough to be vain? Was it really showing off? Hard to sure about that, but the shark¡¯s behavior was far outside of Gaz¡¯s experience or the records she had access to. She hadn¡¯t even known genegineers had resurrected that living fossil. As far as she could tell, no one did.


    They left the aquarium behind after almost two hundred meters of open wall. The amount of salt water in that aquarium beggared the imagination. How much of the ship¡¯s systems were devoted to making sure the aquarium¡¯s tank remained the correct concentrations of minerals? Impossible to tell without a deep scan, which would have been rude as guests.


    Knowing that the ECM team aboard The Megalodon could have easily tapped their short band comms, Nathaniel and Gaz remained silent as they stepped into the guest area where their path led.


    A shaggy rug with irregular edges covered the floor in this cylindrical room. Shields made from sharkskin lined the walls at regular intervals and there figures dominated the opposite section of the room


    One of them, sat upon a throne which itself rested in the fossilized maw of a giant shark - surely a megalodon. In person, Felina¡¯s cat-like appearance was unmistakeable.


    Next to her stood a gigantic creature with greyish-blue skin. He was bigger than Jaree or McRory, maybe bigger than both of them combined. His bulky limbs supported an almost barrel torso marked by a lighter patch which ran from his groin to his chin. The face itself looked like that of great white shark, filled with rows of triangular, razor-sharp teeth. Gaz instinctively scanned him only to find the anthrocyborg had an ECM field too strong for her sensors to penetrate.


    It was the biggest danger flag Gaz had encountered since the false Root clerics.


    The third figure was the smallest of the three and also an anthrocyborg. She ¡ª the small breasts under her plumage suggested gender to Gaz ¡ª had a rainbow-colored beak for a mouth with green feathers running down from the top of her head to her back. Her legs resembled typical avian legs, though much bigger than anything outside of an ostrich. Like the great white shark next to her, she had a belly covered with white feathers instead of green. Unlike the great white shark, her form wasn¡¯t protected by a heretofore un-discovered ECM field.


    ¡°Welcome, master Technomancer and mistress cyborg to our ship.¡± The bird-like cyborg bowed her head, beak almost touching the rug at her feet. ¡°The great Felina and the crew of The Megalodon invite you to sit and refresh yourselves if you so desire.¡±


    At her words a hatch opened under the nearest shield and a drone emerged bearing a small platter on its top. Most of the goods on the platter were bits of baseline food, things Gaz would not have minded sampling: cured meats, roasted vegetables, and even fresh fruit drizzled in honey. Alaya would have been beside herself with glee. What caught Gaz¡¯s attention was the small square stack of variously colored cubes on a square plate. Those were cyborg sensory cubes. Baseline humans *could* eat them, but they would find the flavor and texture bland, if a little chalky. Someone with a full cyborg chassis however would find the cubes more flavorful and culinarily unique.


    She scanned the stack of cubes before she plucked one off the top. Hesitating before popping it into her mouth, Gaz met Nathaniel¡¯s eyes and waited for him to nod before she popped the cube in. It melted into its constituent parts, sending a wild symphony of flavors and sense impressions through Gaz.


    The first thing she felt was a slight chill, as if sitting down to eat right in front of a ventilation outlet. It cooled the surface of her skin and prickled her lips. From a taste perspective, it reminded her of frozen fruit out of a cup. But this bite of fruit contained a melange of flavors, from orange to blueberry. Her second bite transferred her to a smokey room filled with shadowy figures on the edge of her vision with a massive, roaring fire in the center of the room. This bite had the texture of medium rare meat, from traditional bovine steaks to heavier oxen and deer. Savory and dark, the flavor infused itself into Gaz¡¯s brain as she finally redirected her primary processes back to Felina and the rest of the room.


    Sampling the borg cube only required a few microseconds and the gustatory experience continued as the bird-cyborg spoke.


    ¡°Felina is pleased with your offer of cybernetic enhancement, master Technomancer.¡± Her feathers rose up, as if she were fluffing them, and she said, ¡°you otherwise request our services?¡±


    Nathaniel indicated Gaz with his left arm as he chewed on the morsel of food he¡¯d just popped into his mouth. He managed to swallow and said, ¡°my associate and I have a difficult mission for your crew. We wish to attack the false Root clerics and their base¡­¡±


    Gaz could not help but note the irony here. They¡¯d gotten in trouble in the first place because they¡¯d offered to steal the starseed from its legitimate owners. Now they were hiring a mercenary crew to steal it back.


    Felina and the others waited in silence as Nathaniel made his request. At the end, he sent data records containing the formal request to Gaz and to the others.


    All three cyborgs remained silent as they stared at Gaz and Nathaniel. Glad to have the food, Gaz popped another borg cube into her mouth and delighted in the candy-shop scene which greeted her. Raiding candy to sample the range of deliciousness made waiting for Felina to answer much easier.


    ¡°We must review your offer and request. You have six days?¡± The bird woman spoke for the others still. Despite her lack of ECM field, the bird woman¡¯s identity was still hidden from Gaz.


    ¡°We have six days to complete our task without failure.¡¯ Nathaniel added, ¡°we must have time to bring the starseed to its proper owners.¡±


    ¡°Are there other considerations we should know of?¡± Her voice was melodic, as if Felina had spent extra funds making sure her spokes-bird had a beautiful voice.


    This time Gaz spoke up, looking over the arrangement Nathaniel had sent. ¡°There are three people aboard the cluster and a ship we would like to retrieve if possible. And we must not destroy the Root.¡±


    It was the only provision of the Root cleric¡¯s demands which made Gaz nervous. So far their track record with keeping the stations they assaulted intact was¡­ zero. Actually lower than zero since they¡¯d accidentally blown up a few stations as collateral damage.


    The bird-cyborg nodded again with her hands clasped together under her soft white belly feathers. ¡°Mistress Felina will have an answer for you within four hours. How long do you need to perform the cybernetic upgrades?¡±


    ¡°A few hours at most.¡±


    Gaz had set herself into a low-response mode, so she didn¡¯t exhibit her surprise at his answer. Nathaniel could have completed a full cyborg conversion in under an hour. That he gave a longer timeframe suggested he¡¯d make Gaz help.


    Felina stood and motioned to the bird woman. ¡°Aura here is the subject I would like enhanced.¡± The bird-cyborg, Aura, kept her head bowed as Felina pointed at Gaz. ¡°There¡¯s no way a Technomancer with Nathaniel¡¯s reputation got himself involved in trouble with the Root clergy. Why are you interested in this mission?¡±


    Gaz had already prepared an explanation. ¡°The false Root clerics tricked me and mine into stealing from the true order. I seek to redress the balance.¡±


    Whiskers twitching, Felina narrowed her eyes. ¡°Sorry, not good enough.¡±


    This time Gaz reacted with visible surprise. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Give me a better reason and I might give you four hours of consideration.¡±


    Though unprepared to justify her need, Gaz spoke from the heart. ¡°The woman I love is trapped with the false priests. I want her back.¡±


    Even Nathaniel blinked in surprise at her declaration. Aura and the shark-man were both taken aback. But Felina¡¯s nose wiggled and her whiskers lay flat against her cheeks, like she was scenting the air testing Gaz¡¯s honesty. Seemingly satisfied she said, ¡°then I accept this mission. We will meet back in four hours to discuss payment and formalize our arrangement.¡±


    Felina stood from her throne and left through a doorway which appeared next to her. The shark-man followed while Aura remained behind.


    She said, ¡°would you prefer I accompany you back to your ship or would you like to make use of our facilities?¡±


    Gaz would have guessed Nathaniel preferred his own operating theater, but he actually paused as if considering her offer. ¡°I think I would like to have you come aboard The Pillar of Man. Is that acceptable?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Master Technomancer, I am at your service.¡±

 Chapter 29 - Alaya

    Unlike the plains, the forest shielded Alaya from the light of the skies. Here the shadows ran deep except where little strips and splotches happened to grace the floor. Out in the plains islands of grass popped from the earth and split the dry rivers rather cleanly. Occasionally bits of fallen grasses or small twigs littered the ground. But here in the forest, the entire floor was nothing but mulched leaves, branches, stones, and exposed roots.


    The scents here were different too. Wind over the plains carried the pollen of the grasses, the fresh scent of rain and loosened earth. Mildew, mold, and piquant rot added themselves as a thick layer of redolence to the atmosphere of the forest. Something sweeter clung to the air here, not decay¡­ Alaya couldn¡¯t actually identify the scent.


    Finally, the aural landscape here was a separate environment entirely. When the winds blew across the plains, they played a hissing reed chorus. But the forest had a thousand additional players. Each leaf, each branch, interacted with the others to produce a cacophony of music floating down to Alaya. Birds and insects sang their lives into the air too, but that was hardly different from the plains. It was nothing like the incessant hum of a ventilation system, air reprocessors made a regular sound which only deviated when they were about to stop working.


    The functional difference between the forest and the plains, was that she could walk beneath the canopy here looking for both the husks of locusts and for the eggshells she needed. Talani had spoken of biomes other than the swamp or plains, so Alaya knew about wild forests, in theory. Most of that knowledge came from sims of the martian farmlands.


    She¡¯d not really expected to find neat rows of trees with manicured walkways between them. There were no straight paths through this forest. Alaya, making use of Talani¡¯s lessons, followed a game trail through the trees.


    According to her, the beasts stuck to trails they considered safe, which would mean other animals might do the same. Where the deer, foxes, or whatever denizens of the forests made the trail in the first place trod, Alaya had a better chance of finding her goals.


    The locusts were the easiest, after a fashion. She spotted a discarded carapace just out of reach, stuck to the bark of a tree. With only one hand, her chances of climbing the tree were not good. ¡°Use a tool, boop.¡± Even without her father¡¯s words in her head, Alaya would have figured out a solution in short order. But with her father¡¯s advice, she picked up a long branch fallen right off the trail and used it to knock the locust husk away. In the process, of course she crushed it and lost both the wings and the largest section of the locust¡¯s shell.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Her outburst, the first since walking into the forest, sent a flock of birds in the distance into the air to escape. ¡°Ugh, fuck again!¡±


    As much as she could, Alaya noted the birds¡¯ launch points. Those were the most likely places for her to find eggs. Having crushed the first locust body, she set out to find a second, carefully watching the trunks as she passed.


    The next husk she spotted was even higher on the trunk. This time she set her robe down, with garlic and snakeskin atop. As carefully as she could with a single hand, she nudged the end of the stick over to the bit of discarded chitin. This time it fluttered to the ground falling almost exactly into place.


    She couldn¡¯t help but cheer, sending the birds and nearby beasts into a renewed panic.


    Once again, Alaya marked the point from which the birds launched. Without her implants Alaya wasn¡¯t able to record those points and track them automatically. Doing this as a baseline was harder than she¡¯d ever imagined. Growing up without implants, she felt like she should have been able to handle this. And yet¡­


    Wandering through the woods looking for bird nests or fallen eggshells was harder than she could have conceived. Piles of leaves dotted the floor, as if placed here and there by some invisible caretaker. How those piles would have fallen into place without interference from a person was beyond Alaya. Talani¡¯s lessons hadn¡¯t covered that. Nor had they involved the specifics of hunting for bird eggs.


    What she had learned about birds was fairly basic. They roosted in the trees where they also nested. No way could Alaya climb the trees where she¡¯d marked the bird¡¯s ascent. But she did stop beneath those spots and check for shells or fallen eggs.


    Nothing.


    Nighttime closed in on her with the same subtlety it did with on a void ship wth an eccentric or uncaring captain. A long time ago Alaya had stowed away on a derelict shipping vessel with Gaz. If the captain on that ship had paid more attention to his sensors or O2 scrubber load, he would had suspected stowaways, even with Gaz¡¯s chassis working overtime to augment their O2 supplies. As a result of the captain¡¯s ignorance, Alaya had been forced to rely on Gaz for the time. Back then Alaya had still been baseline. The days squished into each other aboard that transport in part because the temps and the light levels never deviated.


    The forest was almost identical in that way. Neither particularly cold nor warm, the atmosphere gave Alaya little hint as to the time. Same with the light. As she moved deeper into the wood, the little streaks of light grew less and less frequent. Exhaustion drove Alaya to sleep before the dark.


    One of those piles of leaves became her bed. Still relying on Talani¡¯s lessons, Alaya used her branch to break up the leaves and scare away any snakes or other predators who might have already been using the leaf pile. Then she crawled in, shoveled the leaves over herself and snuggled in for the warmest night of sleep she¡¯d had in weeks. Maybe the warmest since coming to the Summerlands. She dreamed of Gaz the whole night.


    Alaya started awake at the tail end of what might have been a nightmare or a bittersweet dream. She bade Gaz farewell as she awoke, tears speckling her cheeks. The hazy grey light of the forest welcomed her back to her labors today. Before she set out, Alaya unwrapped her bundle and checked on the snakeskin, garlic, and locust. They were all intact and present still. She checked the gold markings on her thin rock: still one more thing: a shell from something which broke its own egg.


    The first time she¡¯d spotted a legitimate eggshell in her life was that afternoon. It lay on its end in a small pile of leaves. The top was missing, but the base was whole. Alaya searched the area for the egg¡¯s former resident, but nothing hinted at the bird¡¯s departure or presence.


    ¡°Hello little egg.¡± It had almost been a full day since Alaya had last spoken, when she¡¯d crushed her first target locust husk. She¡¯d spotted several more along the tree trunks and knocked a few of them into her robes.


    A surplus of other materials meant Alaya could afford to experiment. She gingerly picked up the eggshell, noting a bunch of red blood-like goo gathered around the side. Rather than leave the forest, Alaya spent time clearing away a patch of open ground, plucked scales from the snake skin and selected an fat little garlic bulb from her collection, and one of the locust husks.


    Not really sure how this was supposed to work, Alaya gathered the four materials in the center of her cleared ground and chanted the words from the golden script over them. She knelt on the ground with her eyes closed and waited.


    For nothing.


    Shaking herself out and cursing her own mind, Alaya bowed her head and prayed over the four items in the chocolate brown dirt. Again she spoke the words and¡­ nothing.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Alaya checked her list a second time. Locust wing, check. Snake scale, check. Alium, check. It had to be her egg. Maybe the dried blood on the side of the egg meant something had broken into the egg and eaten the baby inside.


    Eww. People used to eat these things themselves, but was there supposed to be blood?


    Alaya had no idea how this worked, so she set the eggshell aside and bundled up the rest. ¡°Back to hunting.¡± Whispering low this time, Alaya did not send any birds fluttering into the air.


    None of Talani¡¯s lessons had specified the finding of birds or their eggs. That would have been too helpful. Thus, she spent another several hours searching through the woods before she collapsed into a new pile of leaves.


    Thirst had started to press against her body again. It had almost been two days since Alaya had found water. And she hadn¡¯t brought any with her, which meant she needed to think about whether to press on or to go back and find her stream again.


    Upon checking her own trail, Alaya encountered a whole new problem: she was lost. Game trails meandered through the trees haphazardly. There was no way, looking back at those trails, for Alaya to tell which way she¡¯d come or which way she needed to go. One thing Talani had stressed was that all animals needed water. With the volume of birds and the massive signs of beasts in the area, there had to be water somewhere. But the chittering leaves and other sounds drowned it out.


    That¡¯s an ironic turn of phrase. She chuckled at her own thoughts and knelt. Might as well pray.


    She spoke the words again, thanking the Verse for what she¡¯d already discovered. And asking for guidance to water and to the rest of her ingredients.


    This time, when Alaya opened her eyes, a little red fox hunched down with its belly almost touching the ground. It eyed her warily, as if it had been wandering over a crossroad in her path and frozen when it spotted her.


    Alaya held herself still, not as still as she could have managed with a cyborg frame, but incredibly still nonetheless. Lacking any sense of time, Alaya could only guess at how long it took for the fox to relax enough to spring away, heading left across Alaya¡¯s path.


    It made a grinding little bark as it did, either mocking her or inviting her to follow. Regardless of which, Alaya suspected the fox was a sign from the Verse. There was no reason to ignore its appearance. So she stood and turned to track the fox through the forest.


    The ground quickly turned rocky and broken, like some ancient quarry man had come with a pick to smash the rocks and claim the choice pieces for himself. Mother had taught Alaya about quarries, about why ancient man had relied on them. Analogous to asteroids, those ancient places had helped determine where humanity would settle. Too small for an actual quarry, the walls of this little valley rose up just higher than Alaya¡¯s head.


    When the game trail faded into the grey scrabble and large flat chunks of stone, Alaya froze. Already too lost to matter, she still hesitated before continuing on. ¡°What else am I going to do?¡± Fair enough. Silence fell over the forest at her words, the bird and insects paused to see what danger Alaya posed to them. And their silence gave her auditory space to pick up a different sound. It was hard to say exactly what was different about this particular hissing phrase. Similar in many ways to the brook she¡¯d found in the plains, there was chortling thread hidden in this music.


    Once again, Alaya prayed. Could she pray too much? Was that even possible?


    When she finished and opened her eyes, the sound of the stream came even clearer to her ears. There was no doubt some source of water flowed nearby and all she had to do was find it.


    Navigating the rocks in her bare feet was more treacherous than she could have ever guessed. Bloody footprints marked her trail as she hopped across the clear parts of her path. Rocks meant fewer trees and more light from the sky. The sun had yet to reach its meridian height, but it was fast approaching. Half her day was already gone and Alaya was no closer to her egg than yesterday.


    But only a few minutes later, she came upon a massive river. There was nothing like this in her experience. It was so wide, the tree¡¯s canopies weren¡¯t large enough to span its breadth. What burbling and hissing she¡¯d heard came from the roots and shallows nearby where the water formed little whirlpools.


    She stood there staring at the mass of water for longer than she needed. Like many void salts born into the black desert, she¡¯d never seen an ocean. And like her fellows, she¡¯d spent time in sim flying over the impossibly large body of water. But she¡¯d never considered how water came in intermediate forms. The little brook back in the plains could have been a spillway in a poorly maintained station¡¯s water supply. Only a desperate fool would drink from such a spillway. To Alaya, the swamp wasn¡¯t really water at all, just a weird little example of someone spilling an ocean¡¯s contents in among a dying wood farm. Here in the forest though, this river was utterly beyond Alaya¡¯s experience. Water like this in a station would have meant¡­ a disaster. Mind throughly boggled, Alaya set her bundle down absentmindedly and crawled from her stone perch to the nearest part of the bank, where the mud and the green waters swirled together.


    Losing her footing had not even occurred to her as she slipped and fell onto her right side and slid full into the water. No one in the void knew how to swim. Alaya had grown up most of her youth on a cylinder filled with decaying ocean, but the conditions there meant she never saw more than the fetid banks covered with algae and mold. Swimming would have been a death sentence, delaying her death from toxic shock or drowning.


    As result, she panicked when her chest hit the water. Scrambling for purchase on the banks, Alaya sucked in a few mouthfuls of water, which ironically helped her find her footing as she coughed and spat the water back out. Her feet scraped against the river¡¯s floor, which was much closer to the surface than she¡¯d guessed.


    Standing up, Alaya found she was waist-deep water, and red-faced. If anyone had seen her nearly ¡°die¡± in half a meter of water, she would have been deeply embarrassed. A few seconds after she recovered, dripping wet from the slide, a splash a few meters away wrung a shriek from her throat and sent Alaya scrabbling out of the river and back onto the muddy bank.


    Covered in muck and breathing heavily, Alaya stared at the river banks from where she crouched. Nothing. Again.


    ¡°Fuck you river.¡± No sooner had she spoken than a large, mottled, many toothed mouth roared out of the water and onto the bank. Cybernetics or no, Alaya moved with the speed of a frightened bunny, cutting her shins and forearms on the stones nearby.


    Water droplets hit her back as the monster from the depths closed its jaws on the space Alaya had been panting. It looked like a nightmare given form: leathery skin, malevolent pock-like eyes, and teeth longer than Alaya¡¯s fingers. Was it growling at her? It¡¯s claws bit into the mud and brought it more fully out of the river and onto the bank, a fact which sent Alaya hopping for still higher ground. It ended its lunge with only half of it three or four meter body out of the river, it¡¯s spiked tail whipping back and forth like one of the fish Alaya had encountered during her sim-dips in the ocean.


    She had no idea what it was. ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    Slid back into the water, staring at Alaya with hunger. As if to warn her it would be watching, all of its bulk vanished into the murky depths. Except for those two eyes.


    A little gulp of water hardly slaked her thirst. But a near-brush with something big enough to swallow her whole was enough to keep Alaya huddled on the bank of the river, head swiveling to spot the next threat before it surprised her.


    ¡°Fuck you monster.¡± Instinct led Alaya to check her cybernetics for the beast¡¯s identity, but of course she wasn¡¯t connected to any Net, nor could see call up the functions of her cyber brain. ¡°Fuck me too for that matter.¡±


    The injuries she¡¯d sustained began to finally hurt as the last bits of adrenaline reacted out of her bloodstream. Muscles and joints ached from the sudden and extreme use, but the scrapes and cuts across her skin burned as if she¡¯d poured cleaning acid on herself.


    Talani¡¯s lessons included a dozen different herbs and plants Alaya might have had on hand, if she¡¯d been looking for those instead of for the ingredients to the mysterious cypher stone. Wishing for things she didn¡¯t have represented a colossal waste of time. Wind blowing against the injuries she¡¯d taken actually soothed some of the burn, though the chill made her aches worse.


    Alaya stood up and watched the water as she grabbed her bundle and followed the river bank downstream. The eyes of the monster followed her for almost two hundred meters. But either she lost sight of them or it gave up and sought different prey. Unconvinced of her own safety, Alaya kept her eyes glued to the river and to the course again as she continued on for a mother solid half a kilometer.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Rocks and broken shelves comprised most of the bank. Opposite her side of the river, it sloped much more gently into the water such that the bank was a veritable wall of tree. No way would Alaya cross that river to confirm her suspicions. What were the chances the water would stay only waist deep? And that meant almost nothing compared to the hungry monster creeping under the surface of the water.


    Another half kilometer later, Alaya¡¯s side of the river grew less pronounced and the slope evened out to the point she could easily step down to the edge like walking off of a loading ramp. It felt a little like a trap, as if some river god or nymph had carefully shaped this place to make it attractive for someone like her to dip her hand in.


    Rather than try it, Alaya outsmarted that nymph. She dumped her materials on a flat broad stone not far from the bank and wrapped her loosely woven robes around a long branch. It was something her father had taught her, a long time ago. Sometimes fresh water pooled at the bottom of pipes or in cisterns which proved impossible to dislodge. She should have tried this first, but she¡¯d been impulsive upon first encountering a river. Dipping the robe into the water using the stick as a handle proved immensely successful. Best of all, no lurking river demons shot out to eat her robes.


    Alaya sucked the water out of her robes, making a displeased face at the taste of her own sweat. It was better than she deserved considering her lack of hygiene and better than a lot of pipe water she¡¯d skimmed over her life.


    Repeating the process several times, Alaya managed to wet her throat and tongue thoroughly and get enough sustenance where she felt confident she could continue on. Evening approached now and Alaya needed to find shelter. What if those river monsters came out at night to hunt?


    No way to know for certain, so she walked a short distance away, cradling her materials in her left hand and her soggy robes in her right armpit. Not quite far enough she couldn¡¯t hear the river¡¯s movement, if she¡¯d gone further, Alaya feared she might lose her water supply.


    Before she fell asleep, Alaya prayed once again. This time she asked the Verse to keep Gaz safe forever, but especially until Alaya got to see her again. A feeling settled over her and for the first time since coming here, she felt certain she would see Gaz alive again.


    When she woke, Alaya was chipper and refreshed. Nothing had stalked about the trunk where she¡¯d hidden in the night.


    Looking up at the top of the trunk, Alaya laughed. A small ring of tiny twigs, fuzz, and dried leaves proclaimed itself a bird nest. A brief pause to listen confirmed the presence of something chirping among those bits of nearly dead plant matter.


    It was too high for Alaya to reach on her own. But she¡¯d already learned how to make a ladder by herself. And granted, the plants here were not the same as the swamp, the process was basically the same. She gathered branches and tough grass shoots and set about weaving. One-handed, the process took her far more than twice as long. But her progress was steady.


    By noon, she had a serviceable, though short ladder. Setting it against the trunk of a tree, Alaya slowly climbed up, afraid the bird-mother might attack her for messing with her eggs or her chicks.


    A few stay feathers clung to the nest, looking nothing like the feathers Alaya expected from sims. Those were always straight and bore stiff, fan-like fronds which gave the whole thing a bladed appearance. What she saw were closer to puffballs with little nubs at the end.


    One egg sat at the side of the nest, unmoving. There was no shell or any indication other birds had hatched out of this nest. Unwilling to wait, Alaya spoke a brief prayer to the Verse and pulled the tiny egg form its roost and cupped it in her hand.


    Again the sims were misleading. She¡¯d expected to find an off-white or even beige shell. Maybe with a little bit of texture to it. But this shell was speckled with dark brown spots, but was otherwise mustard yellow. Was it sick?


    She had no way of knowing, so she clung her right forearm to the ladder and cradled the egg against her chest as she made her way back down. Naturally she lost her footing. Terrified she¡¯d land on her pile of ingredients or on her egg and crush it, she threw herself backwards and curled around her left hand and the egg as much as she could. The fall knocked the wind out of her and she hit her head on the ground.


    Senseless and unable to breathe for a moment, Alaya still managed to keep from shattering her egg as she gasped for air and waited for the sharp agonies to end. They held on for way too long as Alaya panted and heaved. At least she wasn¡¯t sick and hadn¡¯t passed out.


    When she trusted herself enough, Alaya checked her egg and found it un-cracked. Supposedly chickens had once sit upon their eggs to keep them warm and help them hatch. Alaya figured that was the purpose of a nest. If she sat on this egg, she would definitely crush it.


    Struggling upright against the agony in her skull, Alaya examined the tiny egg and decided she could rest it in her palm as long as she was careful not to squeeze it too tightly. When she stood up, Alaya hand to rest her right forearm against the nearby tree, which left indentations in her arm from the mottled bark.


    As camp sites went, this was nearly ideal. Close enough to the water for Alaya to hup there and back in five minutes, the forest floor was covered with discarded dried leaves which would give her plenty of material for a bed. How long would the egg take to hatch? Nothing Talani, mother, or father had taught her gave Alaya the slightest clue. So she sat with her back to the tree and waited with the little egg in her palm.


    Without a cyberbrain, or access to it, she found herself profoundly bored. Moving around risked hurting her egg before it hatched. Staying still was about to drive her batty when a grotesque alarm broke the placid chirping drone of the forest. It sounded like a¡­ howl? The way some void gangers screamed to drive little prickling waves of fear into their victims. Having been hunted before, Alaya was quick to her feet and almost reached her bundle when the second set of howls ripped through her belly.


    Yellow, slitted eyes and slavering maws gathered at the edge of the small clearing around Alaya¡¯stree. She snatched up her bundle and the contents and backed away. The moment she returned to her trunk, three wolves larger than people stalked into the clearing. Growls shook the tree tops and sent waves of terror roiling through Alaya¡¯s body.


    How the hell was she supposed to fight those things with one fucking hand while protecting the ingredients for her trial? How were they so freaking huge?


    So much had happened in the last months. Discovering ancient technologies she¡¯d thought useless, losing her arm, and now fighting to claim some ephemeral freedom from it all. She screamed her fury back at the wolves. And they halted their advance, but bared their teeth at her and snarled with drool dripping from their jaws. There was no way she could have fought them, from their size to the fact there were three.


    Alaya lowered her head, closed her eyes, and prayed. If she was about to be eaten, she didn¡¯t want to see it. Still cradling her egg in her hand, Alaya reached out to the Verse with her heart and whispered just one word: ¡°help.¡±


    Something trickled across her cheek, atop the crown of her head, then down her neck and back. Blood? Some other fluid? When she opened her eyes, the three wolves had lowered their heads as well, muzzles to the earth and right forepaws bent. Drops of¡­ water? They fell from the sky in little waves, as if some massive piping system vented pressure overhead. Or someone had messed up condensation control. Would the egg get hurt from the water? She covered it with her body as the water falls began in earnest.


    Aboard a station this would have been close to freezing unless a pressurized or heated pipe burst. Such water would not have been warm, but scalding and too dangerous to remain beneath for even a moment. But this invigorated Alaya as the rivulets ran over her body.


    Movement in her hand brought Alaya¡¯s attention back down to the present. ¡°What the¡­¡±


    Splattering pops as water droplets hit the ground roared over her, louder than the wolves. But still a soft, squeaky chirp reached her ears. Cracks formed along the eggshell and it began to shake and twitch as if to explode. One flake of shell flipped off onto the base of Alaya¡¯s thumb.


    She ignored the material for her prayer because of the thin little beak poking out of the hole along with a matted bundle of feathers too small and spiked to be real. ¡°What are you?¡±


    It struggled and cheeped as more and more of the shell came apart. Alaya hooded the baby bird with her trunk, hunching over it to keep the spillage off. Every part of her was drenched save a tiny space where the wee baby bird continued to free herself from the egg.


    Pieces of fractured white lay scattered about as the bird¡¯s tiny feet pushed the lower sections of egg away. It raised it head and gave it¡¯s own version of the wolfish howl. Alaya knew no way to answer herself, but the wolves apparently did.


    All three of them pulled their heads back and let out a harmonic tone which reverberated in Alaya¡¯s chest. She had to steady herself with the stump of her head or risk falling over from the vibrations.


    When the howl ended, the baby bird had fixed its tiny head in the direction of the wolves. It looked ridiculous, black and skinny, except for its base where its legs poked out and the massive bulb of a head. Like a pin from an old bowling game, the kind her father insisted she play with him. Certain wolves would eat baby birds just as they would eat young women, Alaya was not about to release her foundling to the predators.


    Then the waters stopped falling. The sun rose. And the dark clouds covering the sky parted. A vibrant blue bird squawked angrily at Alaya from a spot not a fifth of a meter from her head. Its gaze darted from Alaya¡¯s eyes back to her palm and then back to Alaya. ¡°Is she yours?¡± The bird squawked again, louder and more forceful this time. ¡°Okay, here you go then.¡±


    She held her left hand out to the blue bird, who grabbed the baby by her back legs and lifted them both into the sky. Wolves and Alaya both tracked the baby through the air into a tree. Mother settled in, the three wolves approached Alaya, their heads still bowed.


    Expecting them to suddenly attack, Alaya¡¯s whole body tensed at their movement. Each wolf opened its mouth and a different object popped out. The first held a bulb of wild garlic, the second a round disc of snake skin, and the third a locust husk. ¡°What in the Verse?¡±


    No answer, of course. But she¡¯d made the right choice by not attacking the wolves and praying instead. Alaya carefully clung to a piece of the shell remaining in her left hand as she grabbed the other three ingredients from the wolves and piled them in front of her. She had to stand to retrieve her golden piece of rock and return to the spot where the rest of what she needed was.


    Then she read the words.


    Light. Everything was light. Which meant nothing to Alaya. Mother had taught her basic philosophy, in the absence of the darkness, what meaning had light? A voice echoed her words, trembling out of infinity and speaking directly into her mind.


    ¡°Then let there be darkness.¡±


    Differentiation changed everything as the verse sped forward, from an explosion so powerful the concussive waves changed the very principles of reality and drove forward the engine of entropy in the form of time. Smaller explosions followed as the nascent mass and energy concentrated together, burst apart and repeated the process. Even without her mental implants, Alaya recognized a logarithmic expansion in the speed of time around her.


    Now instead of light and dark, she stood at the center of an ever-expanding sphere. Most of this world, the new Verse, was inky blackness. Even this early in its birth. And as time plodded ever forward, more and more darkness entered.


    But the light was tenacious, unwilling to concede even the smallest fraction of territory, blazing into life whenever the circumstances arose. Over and over across the newborn reality actual life bloomed into existence, died and its ashes laid the foundation for the next generation.


    A hand, mighty and invisible, reached out and turned her head toward a darkened expanse of the void. Out there, compared to the girth and majesty of the Verse lay a tiny little plane of flashing, spinning little lights. With her attention diverted, Alaya¡¯s focus narrowed in on those lights. On a tiny speck among blazing specs.


    Brown and red dots spun in lazy, eccentric orbits around this sun, who¡¯s yellow-orange glow reminded Alaya of Sol. Where Earth should have spun and bobbed in her rotations, a pair of dirty round balls chased each other, one at the solar Lagrange point of the former. There was no moon or other satellites around either object, so this couldn¡¯t have been Earth and Sol.


    Then the lead planetoid, too small to bear the proper name, began to vibrate and wobble in its orbit. The basics of orbital mechanics showed the L4 point to be unstable. The evidence proved it as the leading object bobbed and vibrated back into its sister.


    The ensuing explosion was bright enough to be seen from the sun and tossed material out into the depths of the solar system. Part of the smaller body was ejected along with parts of the larger. But a substantial portion of the sister object whipped itself around its sibling. Both objects set to spinning, at almost the exact same period, their spins conferred by the same mechanical inevitability as that which set the Verse into motion in the first place.


    I just witnessed the truth birth of the Earth.


    It became apparent unquestionable when the larger of the two bodies cooled, the gases and compounds trapped by its gravity and magnetosphere condensed into liquid forms. For the first time in history, Alaya witnessed a blue Earth.


    She could not say precisely when life sprung up among the waters. Nor could she say when it differentiated into multi-cellular organisms. But she could see the changes wrought across the surface of the globe as the methane-dominant atmosphere yielded to one more favorable to her kind of life.


    In the span of relative seconds, the Earth turned impossibly green. Ocean-life, now complex enough for nerves to form, for large bodies to emerge from the seas, stepped upon land for the first time. Insects rose up from the soil as if planted there by seed-ships eons in the past. Life teemed on the Earth, swelled to the breaking point and receded in its own tidal rhythm.


    From her vantage point, Alaya enjoyed an impossible sight: massive dinosaurs, larger in some cases than a cruiser, stomped across the surface of the Earth or swam through her seas. Feathers sprang up as those dinosaurs slowly changed, their thickened hind legs giving way to something more akin to that of the little bird she¡¯d released to her mother. Never in her entire history had the Earth born so many living souls upon her surface. It looked to Alaya, like a golden age of life.


    Over her shoulder a massive asteroid, larger by far than anything but a Loop station or generation ship, flung itself toward the pregnant planet. Alaya knew, from her mother¡¯s lessons, what this was: Chicxulub.


    Compared to the impact with her sister body which formed the moon, this asteroid was a tiny handheld pistol to the planetoid¡¯s plasma canon. Still, the explosive plume rose out from the Earth¡¯s surface almost as far as her diameter, once again spraying the Earth¡¯s matter over the solar system and into the outer planets. Millions of years later, explorers wound find fragments from the Chicxulub collision on Saturn¡¯s moon, Titan.


    When mother had taught Alaya how absolute the devastation had been, Alaya had scarcely believed her. Within hours oceans had engulfed most of the continents of the world, spreading their killing waters across the planet. Not long after clouds of sulphuric ash choked the skies and the oceans turned nearly white, then vanished under the black clouds of death which choked out all but a tiny fraction of life on the planet. Not since primitive bacteria began spewing oxygen into the air had the world¡¯s biospheres collapsed so completely.


    An eye-blink of time passed and the cloud cover faded over a world locked in ice and snow. Molten rock, still red and angry from the power of the asteroid¡¯s impact, blew gouts of steam into the air when the roiling seas hit.


    Life clung to the planet tenaciously though. For some reason Alaya then thought of her missing hand, though the significance escaped her in the moment. Time shot forward and life surged, space had opened up for new creatures.


    Some, the last remnants of the massive thunder lizards who¡¯d stomped across the infant Earth, shrank, grew wings, and took to the skies. Others, already tiny and wrapped in the first fur to grace the planet¡¯s timeline scurried and pecked out their niches as they spread across the Earth with the speed and reach of a viral infestation.


    They branched out incredibly wide, claiming every bit of room left by the death of their predecessors. Before Alaya could so much as sigh in wonder, the new mammals had slipped back into the oceans, spread across every biome of the Earth, and into the air.


    Then humanity split off from the mass. Where, for the longest time, the only fire upon her surface had been from celestial cataclysms or faults in the terrestrial crust, now tiny little fires grew up and sent trails of smoke meandering into the heavens. These early humans were squat, hairy, and as varied as the first mammals themselves.


    Before long a single dominant group rose up. Alaya had expected something akin to her maiming here: a pogrom of death and destruction waged by her ancestors against their competitors. But rather than that, she witnessed a strange melding. Early sapiens bread with neanderthals, denisovans, and more to produce the first true humans.


    A great fire rose up in the center of the first human settlements, a bonfire intended to light the whole Earth, born of first humanity¡¯s complete misunderstanding of the cosmos. There, Alaya¡¯s attention focused to a tiny point and narrowed down to where a woman stood before the fire, an auroch-head dress lent her its menacing silhouette. Other than that mask, the woman wore only black paint, each stroke part of a larger beast scrawled across her skin. Strands of¡­ something connected Alaya to this woman. They felt almost like invisible lines of electricity, informing Alaya of the woman¡¯s intent as she raised her own lips to the heavens and howled.


    She prays.


    Was this the first prayer? Or had humanity been praying from the beginning? Masses of people threw their own heads back in answer to the priestess¡¯s cry and howled in harmony with her. In the outer edges of the fire, where the first canine ancestors of domestic dogs lurked, more howls joined the crush of humanity.


    The woman chopped off her own right hand and tossed it into the flame. Her blood and the limb sent the fires roaring high into the sky, all but touching the paucity of clouds floating there. Her face beaded with sweat and gripped in the rictus of agony, the woman ignored the fount of blood pouring from her arm and bent down over a clay bowl. She crushed a series of ingredients in the bowl and chanted a familiar set of syllables.


    Fire leaped from the the pit and followed the trail of her blood back as if it were oil. This time, the woman screamed as fires blazed from her eyes, mouth and ears. Those flames too rose up into the sky and brushed the feet of the gods.


    Before her screams ended, the flames had formed a plasma-like hand. Fingers of flickering blue danced as the woman stared at them and continued her chant. In what must have been an full hour of intense agony, the woman chanted over and over as her hand reformed. It was different from her original right hand in that the lines marking her palm were fine, almost invisible. And where her skin had been clay-dark to begin with, her hand was neatly coal-black now. Ash fell from her fingers as she flexed them and bent down upon her knees to pray.


    Not once had Alaya understood the strange words the people she¡¯d watched spoke. Not until now.


    ¡°By the powers of the Verse, embodied in the gods, may all who come after benefit from my sacrifice.¡±


    Alaya furrowed her brow at what she heard. Sacrifice? Her unspoken question was answered as the woman jumped bodily into the bonfire, consumed in a single flash.


    This time a winged figue, blazing like the mythical phoenix roared out of the flames with a screech into the air. No longer embodied, the woman¡¯s arms flapped once as she circled overhead and swept across the assembled groups of people. Here and there, bits of her fiery essence fell upon one of those watching, who dropped and entered a kind of vacant trance.


    What had she done to them?


    Alaya had not expected an answer, but the phoenix woman banked and came face to face with Alaya. ¡°I have marked them and their line as belonging to the Verse. Like yourself.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    The woman¡¯s fiery mask contorted into a grin. ¡°The Verse Herself decreed this. Even you, lost to the fin, lost to the hoof, and lost to the wing, still belong to the Verse. None can flee from their legacy forever, no matter how far they fly.¡±


    Flames washed over Alaya, sending the sensation of burning across her very mind¡­ no, her soul. A transcendental concept Alaya had never believed in blazed as bright and clear within her heart as the birth of the Verse and the death of the first priestess.


    When Alaya opened her eyes, she was covered with moisture and sweat. She shivered not from the cold, but from the now fading agonies sparking across her nerve channels. Before she lost consciousness, she managed to focus on a strange set of lights flickering in the center of her vision: a hand-shaped flame cavorted before her, as if greeting a long-lost friend.

 Chapter 30 - Gaz

    Construction like that which comprised Aura¡¯s body was something Gaz had simply never encountered before. From the outside she looked unique, certainly. But no more so than any other anthro-chassis cyborg. But inside¡­ she¡¯d been cobbled together from a vast array of disparate parts, many of which had never been designed to work with each other. Nathaniel made delighted cooing sounds as he pulled open Aura¡¯s body and set to work on the anthrocyborg.


    Gaz contemplated the term ¡°anthrocyborg¡± technically, it was malapropism. The roots, when considered separately, meant almost the exact opposite of how the term was used. Properly, an ¡°anthrocyborg¡± should have been a human-shaped cyborg. But linguistics and usage did care one bit for what some people considered proper. Butterflies where neither made from butter, nor particularly fly-like.


    Contemplating language made for the most useful contribution possible from Gaz. With the vast tangle of parts, mismatched and diverse, she would not be much help to Nathaniel. And he did not ask for her direct assistance in this upgrade.


    However, she still maintained a careful record of his actions. Once again, he relied on his innate power only as a tool, clearly wanting to make sure Gaz could replicate even these esoteric upgrades. Why, she couldn¡¯t say, and wouldn¡¯t ask while Nathaniel was so deep in contemplation.


    Aura¡¯s cyberbrain represented the most stock part of her body, other than a few weapon systems all obtained from the same vendors. And like the rest of Felina¡¯s ship and systems, Aura¡¯s cyberbrain was extremely advanced for the cluster, built within the last fifty years using some of the most advanced techniques and materials available. She was an object lesson in how to craft an exquisite chassis using one excellent part: a brain, along with the cobbled together remnants of other cyborgs.


    ¡°You think they¡¯ll help us after this?¡± Gaz spoke her question aloud as Nathaniel sealed up Aura¡¯s body. What he¡¯d done for her would have cost millions of credits back on Mars. Even more on Earth or one of the Loop stations.


    ¡°Most residents of the cluster know better than to break a deal with a Technomancer.¡±


    ¡°Except the Root clerics.¡±


    ¡°Actually, they haven¡¯t crossed me personally.¡± He wagged his finger back and forth. ¡°Even the Order of the Root knows better than to try something like that.¡±


    ¡°Can you tell me why exactly?¡± It was a question Gaz had been wondering. From what she¡¯d seen, Nathaniel¡¯s hard power came from The Pillar of Man, it¡¯s what enforced his terms, and protected him from depredations by opportunists. His identity, his powers, gave him soft power. Once again, it was almost the opposite of Evan.


    ¡°Without going into detail, or I suppose too much detail, I will say this: Technomancers do not automatically form alliance with other Technomancers. We may face each other across opposite ends of a fight. And if that happens, we might even kill each other. But no one fucks with us as Technomancers unless they want all of us as enemies.¡±


    ¡°You mean the threat of your larger group holds them off?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Humanity would be fine without us, the Cluster would not suffer much if I took my ship and services elsewhere. A good cyberdoc with decent training can do most of what I could. But imagine trying to protect your ship, your supply lines from dozens of us. All of them pissed off because you made the mistake of killing or torturing one of us for no reason. Or cheating us out of our due.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± He snorted. ¡°One of my aunts is a void ship engineer. She¡¯s¡­ scarier than anyone I have ever met in my life, anyone I¡¯ve ever heard of. And despite her area of specialization, she¡¯s still a better cyberdoc than I am.¡±


    Gaz set a processor to contemplate such a force, certainly more dangerous than a unstable fusion reactor, that. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt that most of us are related in some way. So cheating one is like cheating our cousins.¡± Nathaniel left the operating theater and motioned for Gaz to follow with his head. ¡°Let¡¯s let her systems activate in private while we go plan our attack.¡±


    Now in sim, Nathaniel brought The Pillar of Man close enough to deliver a full battery of missiles and weaponry against the Root system. He fired every single one of those weapons into the Root station. Even in the context of the simulation, Gaz stiffened when the leaves burned away and a few chunks of scorched wood floated into the void. But the Root herself remained largely unscathed.


    ¡°That should be impossible.¡±


    Nathaniel shook his head. ¡°Magic suffuses the Root, makes the structure next to impossible to destroy with conventional weapons. Besides, our purpose isn¡¯t to damage the Root, but to distract the defenders long enough for your transport to reach the surface.¡±


    Gaz had never seen the Root station¡¯s active defenses engage before. Leaves parted and massive branches as large as a cruiser pointed at The Pillar of Man.


    ¡°Brace for impact.¡±


    Had anyone else given such a warning, Gaz would have laughed. The non-relativist munitions from The Pillar of Man had taken minutes to reach the Root. Whatever those branches were about to hurl, they wouldn¡¯t be here quickly, right?


    Gaz discovered she was very wrong.


    Several of the large branches glowed with an inner green light before they burst and hundreds of needles the size of a scout ship flared toward The Pillar of Man, enshrouded by green fire, or perhaps plasma as they crossed the void treating the light-speed energy barrier like a quaint suggestion.


    Fragments of wood exploded against The Pillar of Man¡¯s hull, shaking the void ship and giving Gaz a reason to activate balance-assist.


    Impact alarms blared once and went silent under Nathaniel¡¯s commands. Lights around the ship dimmed and for a moment, Gaz forgot this was a simulation. ¡°What¡¯s the damage?¡± She activated the ship¡¯s external optics and sensors. Several massive holes in the side of ship leaked gases and debris into space as adjoining airlocks sealed themselves. Before she flicked away to a second set of optical sensors, Gaz paused and zoomed into the edge of this particular breach. Bits of brown and green matter had begun to spring up form the impact point as she looked on. ¡°What is that?¡±


    Everything around Gaz stopped mid-motion and Nathaniel¡¯s image floated into view. He crooked his finger around and Gaz floated out around the hole in the ship. ¡°This is a theoretical weapon the Root station possesses, an organic infestation intended to drain our ship of air and other resources.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a way to stop it?¡±


    ¡°Only theoretically.¡± Nathaniel shook his head. ¡°No, I would say I do not.¡± With those words the simulation ended. ¡°Aside from the problem of initiating hostilities in the Cluster, I do not know how The Pillar of Man will approach close enough to support or lead the assault.¡±


    ¡°Then we have to rely on The Void Sharks.¡± Gaz had hoped to bring The Pillar of Man to bear against this problem, to have Nathaniel with her during the assault. He was more important than the ship. But he wasn¡¯t leaving his ship. Gaz knew that without Nathaniel mentioning it explicitly.


    ¡°Indeed. I will contact Felina and let her know the full details.¡±


    The swaggering mercenary captain met them when they dropped Aura off. She¡¯d woken while Gaz and Nathaniel were leaving the simulation and only a few minutes before they rendezvoused with The Megalodon. ¡°How¡¯d you do Aura?¡±


    Rather than answer out loud, the bird-cyborg approached her boss and held her hand out. Felina laid a few fingers on the back of Aura¡¯s hand and they silently communicated. After a few seconds, Aura rose to stand behind Felina.


    ¡°To no one¡¯s surprise, you do good work, Technomancer.¡± Felina flashed a mouthful of fangs as she grinned. ¡°Our part of the bargain is to retrieve your missing friend, right?¡± She addressed her question to Gaz.


    ¡°Infiltrate the Root, save Alaya and anyone else from her crew who might be alive, and retrieve the starseed.¡± Even Gaz found it amusing that her priorities and those of the legitimate Root clerics aligned by way of afterthought.


    ¡°Sounds like a fucking blast to me.¡± Felina nodded, hissing at herself. ¡°Let¡¯s get you aboard my ship and we¡¯ll set up to get murderin¡¯.¡± She waggled her eyebrows at Gaz, who turned back to Nathaniel with a question as a mask across her features.


    ¡°Good luck, though I somehow doubt you will need it.¡± With those words, he bowed to Gaz and Felina and stood by as they left through the airlock.


    Sentimentality had always been a bugaboo in the back of Gaz¡¯s conciseness. From the face she¡¯d worn from the day Alaya had commented on how pretty that engineer had been to the secret Gaz had clung to since the day she got her name and saved Alaya¡¯s life, sentiment had trailed her like an errant comet. Thus, as she stepped off of The Pillar of Man, Gaz could not help the thought this would be the last time she¡¯d ever set foot aboard the Technomancer¡¯s marble-white halls, that it would be the last time she¡¯d see Nathaniel.


    Foolish, sentimental thoughts indeed.


    ¡°You¡¯re some kind of high-end battle borg, ain¡¯tcha?¡± Felina slowed until she walked next to Gaz. ¡°That Technomancer your sugar-daddy? Set you up with that chassis?¡±


    Alaya might have snapped at Felina in a show of solidarity. Or maybe she would have jousted back. But Gaz didn¡¯t mind the ribbing one way or the other. ¡°I had this chassis long before I met Nathaniel.¡±


    ¡°Oh gotcha. Seen a lot of combat then?¡±


    ¡°You might say that, but not as much as most mercenaries.¡± Most mercenaries refused to do assassination work, not that they had some code or were morally above it. No, most mercenaries understood the complexities of their political situations better than most military grunts. Pulling hits for cash was a full astronomical unit away from hiring to one side of a war. In the latter case, capture meant a credit penalty and a black mark with the group you¡¯d attacked. In the former¡­ people tended to be a bit more sensitive about assassins. Best thing a failed hitter could hope for was the cold embrace of the void or a full plasma blast to the brain. Worst might be jarring and centuries long torture. Hard to earn enough credits or reputation to justify either of those.


    ¡°You¡¯re just not gonna volunteer anything, are you?¡±


    ¡°Do most of your clients chat about their lives?¡±


    ¡°Gets boring out here.¡± Felina opened her arms and spun around as they walked into a very different section of The Megalodon from last time. Music hit Gaz like an airlock venting itself. Then came the nuance of sound crawling under the thrumming, irregular beats. Moans, cries of pleasure, and a few cries of pain which¡­ no, that wasn¡¯t really pain. Next her chem sensors demanded a spare processor just to sift through the volume of adulterants in the air. Sweat, other fluids, smoke, and almost every narcotic substance humanity had discovered in her two-hundred thousand years history. Finally, she crested the raised walkway which surrounded the pit.


    Down below crushed red and purple velvet cushioning covered the walls from the floor all the way up to the gangway where they stood. Pillows, a mass of blankets, and small swarms of suspensor-enabled drones covered the ground where writhing bodies made gaps. It was a sybaritic gathering lewd enough to color Alaya¡¯s cheeks. With just a second¡¯s glance, Gaz had identified nearly every form of pairing possible. ¡°Ah.¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°We fight hard and fuck hard here.¡± Felina snorted and swatted at Gaz gently. ¡°You decide to join, let me know.¡± With those words, she grabbed the rail and somersaulted over into the crowd below.


    ¡°Everyone parties a little differently.¡± Aura gave Gaz a once-over and added. ¡°If you¡¯d like to just sit down, I can take you to an alcove.¡±


    ¡°I would prefer that, yes.¡± An encyclopedic knowledge of human sexuality paired poorly with Gaz¡¯s lack of actual experience. The whole situation was made even more awkward by her devotion to Alaya. From the perspective of desiring experience, Gaz was tempted to join in the wriggling glee below. But too much force held her back, some of it, sentimentality.


    ¡°Did you hear me?¡± Aura raised her voice as she addressed Gaz a second time.


    A shuddering wave resonated through Gaz. It had been a while since whatever neural defect in her nano-systems had given her trouble. But just then she¡¯d missed everything Aura had said, her active threads having ejected those memories during a brief crash. ¡°I did not.¡±


    ¡°I said you look even more uncomfortable than I am.¡± Aura leaned over the table in the corner of the large room. Sound dampeners held back the moans and cries while welcoming in the music.


    ¡°This is¡­ yes. I am uncomfortable.¡± The last thing Gaz wanted here was to admit her inexperience, especially to mercenaries and relative strangers.


    ¡°Would you like to hit the canteen or the mess? Or I could show you to your quarters?¡±


    ¡°Actually, do you know who will be joining us on our assault on the Root station?¡±


    ¡®Uh,¡± Aura blinked with her chin pulled into the top of her chest. After her surprise registers, she waved to the open room. ¡°Everyone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡±


    ¡°I said everyone.¡± Aura snickered and stood up, her feathers twitching as she did. ¡°Captain¡¯s not gonna attack a Root cleric ship without the whole crew. Everyone wants the best chance of success or we don¡¯t earn our rep.¡±


    But¡­ Gaz silenced herself and considered what Aura had said. ¡°How are you getting through the Root¡¯s defenses?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to see?¡± Quirking her beak to the left, Aura said, ¡°captain¡¯s not gonna let you off till go time anyway. And you¡¯re part of the breaching group right?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get you to your quarters and I¡¯ll sim you through our plan.¡± Aura stood up and offered her feathered claw to Gaz, who accepted.


    The room assigned to Gaz was simple and small, about half again the size of an average grunt¡¯s bunk aboard a MilCAS fleet ship. Easy to see with those accommodations how Felina attracted talent. Spartan decor meant steel walls, a standard synth cotton bed and little else. But it was still far better than what most enlisted soldiers would have enjoyed for the first ten years of their contracts.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you want to be alone?¡± Aura¡¯s plumage puffed up behind her and she widened her eyes as she leaned toward Gaz.


    ¡°I am, let¡¯s just examine the sim?¡±


    ¡°Okay, sounds good hon.¡± Aura turned and walked down the hall with a deliberate and wide sway to her hips, each swing seeming to tease Gaz with what she¡¯d refused.


    Trusting simulations made for a good way to get surprised and executed for a botched mission. But in this particular case, the simulation Aura showed her and the actual infiltration set out in the same manner and hardly deviated before Gaz hit the physical Root systems.


    Yira Crain was the first non-anthroborg Gaz encountered aboard The Megalodon. In fact, she was the closest thing to baseline Gaz had seen off of the Root station. Both in simulation and on live launch Yira accompanied Felina, Aura, Gaz, and Mako.


    Felina¡¯s method for avoiding reprisal attacks from the rest of Riggon¡¯s Cluster brought a smile to Gaz¡¯s lips. She¡¯d sent out distress signals asking for berth even before she launched her breaching pods. Not one actual missile or munition launched with them, but every single pod contained a sextet of artificial parts intended to foil the scanners of nearby ships. From a distance it looked like the whole crew of The Megalodon was evacuating the ship while she listed into the Root station.


    When the Root defenses armed, no one launched weapons into her to maintain the Cluster¡¯s tenuous cease fire. In fact no one but the Root station herself fired upon The Megalodon. And once that happened, The Megalodon opened fire herself.


    The first time Alaya witnessed it from within the simulation, she¡¯d been shocked. The fiftieth time lost its luster. Yira¡¯s hands glowed and a blueish grey field rose up between the Root station and The Megalodon.


    Every wooden spike and branch which struck that field exploded into a mass of roots and organic matter, just as if it had impacted the hull of the ship. With nothing to hold onto and no new sources of CO2 or food, the living missiles writhed for a few minutes and then quickly withered into dried husks.


    Before they reached it, Yira dropped the large screen with a motion of her hands and panted for a few minutes. The barrage of wooden missiles did not resume after the initial batteries. Still, once their pod clearedit, Yira raised the curtain behind them.


    Pods crashed into the side of the Root station, exploding into balls of flame as they did. Incendiary munitions had fallen out of favor in void combat aeons ago. Most void ships could handle a little fire as easily ¡ª or badly depending on the perspective ¡ª as they could a hull breach. Those flares burst out into larger and larger fires along the surface of the Root station. Nathaniel¡¯s ship didn¡¯t have an incendiary load out, which was why his sims had never shown this.


    The parallel between the simulations Gaz had practiced with Aura and the rest of The Megalodon¡¯s crew ended before they hit the surface of the Root station. Proximity and tachyon alarms, features The Megalodon would have needed to take out the Nelissan Arms flagship, went berserk.


    A small scout ship, almost too small for a skip drive, translated into the void right next to Gaz¡¯s own ship. Felina and Yira both reacted, the captain veering their ship hard a-port and Yira raising a blue-green field which resembled a shark¡¯s maw, set to snap the newcomer in half.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Felina spoke aloud as the ship edged by the magical shark construct Yira had summoned and almost side-swiped their pod.


    Docking locks connected as Gaz examined the vessel from her scanners. This was something else. Built with similar nano-systems to Gaz, this silver arrow-head shaped skip vessel, morphed to join with the hull of their pod.


    More shocking than the morphic capabilities of the void ship was its lack of void-registration. No one, not MilCAS, not Loop Nations, no one flew un-regged vessels through open space. It was the void equivalent of daring a passerby to attack because no one would retaliate over it. In fact anyone with sense would attack because they would assume an un-regged vessel was about to attack them. All spaceships were missiles, after all.


    More alarms blared through the cabin where they intended to launch their breach. In less time than it took Felina to silence those alarms, a circular pattern of flame appeared right next to Gaz, someone was cutting through their hull.


    All battle systems on high alert, Gaz turned to face the oncoming attacker as Mako put his massive shoulders next to hers. She barely reached the base of his chest. Yira chanted behind them and Felina shouted in surprise. Still monitoring their trajectories and sensory systems as the gap in their hull collapsed inward, Gaz was as surprised as anyone else by the fact their attacker had corrected their course back in line with their original trajectory.


    Weapon¡¯s fire spread out across the breach, making tiny holes in the area or burning into the darkness where their attacker had made a tunnel. A familiar voice intruded into their comms, ¡°this is Technomancer Evan Parker, I hope this is Gaz¡¯s pod.¡±


    All eyes suddenly turned on Gaz. ¡°Evan?¡± She responded with a typical handshake crypto challenge and the Technomancer responded with the correct bonafides. ¡°Evan!¡±


    ¡°Are they gonna shoot me if I poke my head out?¡±


    Gaz searched the room and spoke over comms to the team and to Evan. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ I thought he was dead. But he¡¯s¡­ you¡¯re here to help us, right?¡±


    ¡°That is correct. Alaya¡¯s alive aboard that Root station, but she won¡¯t stay that way if you don¡¯t have me along.¡± Evan passed a moment. ¡°So can I come out? If yall kill me I won¡¯t be able to help.¡± His accent shifted, sounding like he was earnestly unnerved by the situation.


    ¡°Please let him board. He¡¯s a friend.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly true. Gaz suspected Evan or his handlers would toss all six of them into the Sun if they thought doing so would keep Alaya alive.


    Felina snarled. ¡°If this fucks up our mission, you still owe us.¡±


    ¡°Done.¡± That was an easy decision.


    ¡°Then welcome aboard you crazy asshole.¡± Felina holstered her pistol and the others followed suit. She rested her paw on her thigh, leaned toward the breach, and added, ¡±will you give me your ship?¡±


    Evan¡¯s hand appeared first, as if he weren¡¯t quite sure he was safe. A wise move as Gaz saw it, but no one opened fire when he showed up. After a second, he crawled out of the blackness and stood up.


    Unlike the last time she¡¯d seen him, Evan did not have a base-line appearance. His chassis was clearly a MilCAS black ops variant. Thin, spindly arms pulled him upright and he stood on four additional limbs, all of which articulated on ball sockets and gave him a spider-like appearance.


    ¡°Holy fuck, Gaz. How do you know this guy?¡± Felina shot Gaz a shocked expression before she returned to guiding their pod into the side of the Root station.


    A cranial protrusion at the top of Evan¡¯s chassis revealed a face, one made from composites and clearly intended to terrify anyone the MilCAS operative ¡ª or in this case, Evan ¡ª needed to murder. ¡°The Void Sharks! These are the mercs I would have recommended.¡±


    ¡°What happened? I thought you died.¡±


    ¡°Oh they smoked the fuck out of me!¡± Evan¡¯s head bobbed. ¡°But I¡¯m no idiot. I was cast in.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit.¡± That was Yira, one of the few times she¡¯d spoken outside of casting. ¡°You can¡¯t use magic over IDcasting.¡±


    The little line of brown plastic standing in for his left eyebrow rose at that and Evan said, ¡°oh really? I suppose you¡¯ve spoken about this at length with your friendly neighborhood Technomancers?¡± Yira didn¡¯t have an answer to that, but rather than leave her wondering, Evan added, ¡°which, if we live, is something you should totally try. Speaking at length with a friendly Technomancer that is.¡± His intimidating mask winked at Yira as he sidled up next to Gaz. He was the same approximate size as her, but with an additional two limbs. It still didn¡¯t feel crowded in the little pod.


    ¡°Two minutes till impact.¡± With the excitement of Evan¡¯s arrival over, Felina switched back to mission control smoothly. She shut off the alarms and let The Megalodon know they were fine. It was a credit to her crew that the people she¡¯d left aboard accepted her explanation at face value.


    Mako eyed Evan angrily, splitting his attention between Gaz and their newcomer.


    Evan leaned in toward Gaz and said, ¡°about that little Root-related nanite problem you had¡­¡± His nodded toward the Root station. ¡°I have something that should slow down the Root station¡¯s attempts to negate your nano-evolution.¡± He spoke to her directly, respectful of Gaz¡¯s little secrets. ¡°Interested?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± this had been one of her main concerns., but not the main one. ¡°Do you know if anyone else survived?¡±


    ¡°Sorry Gaz. I do not. I know Alaya¡¯s alive and I am reasonably certain The Mousehome¡¯s intact. As to Kirk, Isham, or Marcus, I simply cannot say.¡± One of the articulating limbs held up a small sphere of silver mercurial fluid. ¡°This is a suppression swarm. I tailored it to counter the Root station¡¯s automated systems, but if you get directly attacked, it won¡¯t absorb more than one or two blows. If that.¡±


    Gaz accepted the sphere and it lost its silver color and turned almost perfectly transparent, with an index of refraction so close to local air, Gaz needed alternate sensors to detect it. It flowed over her and covered her like a modern void suit for baselines, not that she needed such a suit. ¡°Thanks Evan.¡±


    He nodded toward the Root station. ¡°There¡¯s no other way to save Alaya. The oracles are clear.¡±


    Yira¡¯s eyes glowed with a blue grey light and she nodded at Evan, as if she could hear him. Then she spoke. ¡°The oracles are even more in our favor now. But do not grow complacent. The Root clerics have their own divinations and magics. And when such things interact, oracles fail.¡±


    Evan gave a little finger-point in Yira¡¯s direction and said, ¡°the freaky little atavist priestess is dead on. Keep in mind the Root station is sacred to the clergy; we¡¯re attacking their temple.¡±


    ¡°Ten seconds until impact. Prep for breach and grab your balls kids.¡± Poles shot from the floor to the ceiling next to everyone in the cabin, and everyone grabbed on in one way or another. Felina waited until the last second before she lazily locked in.


    In a standard breach, a ship or pod only pierced a layer or three of the defending vessel. Few pods used outside of MilCAS could withstand more force than that. But flying into the branches of a living tree-ship was far beyond standard.


    Evan¡¯s void ship had moved across the prow of the pod and sensors showed it ablating away as their pod tore through more and more layers of the tree ship. When it finally came to rest, Gaz had counted almost 19 separate impacts. Most of the silver nano-structure of Evan¡¯s ship was gone. And a green energy field covered it.


    Once again, Gaz and Mako stood at the airlock with Yira behind them. When she lifted her hands, Evan put one of his armatures on her shoulder and said, ¡°hold off for now. Let them think they¡¯ve been attacked by a nano-swarm mass. They won¡¯t send an interdiction force right away.¡±


    Yira opened her mouth to protest, but Evan¡¯s eyes glowed with a silver light, which was mirrored by his ship. It peeled away from the hull of their breaching pod and began to move through the limbs of the Root station, all the while pursued by the same green flame which had so diminished Gaz.


    It crawled like some kind of amoeba, sending out silver tentacles, sticking to the branches of the Root station, and then pulling itself along. Where it enveloped the branches of the station, it left the wood and leaves unscathed. Not so with the silver mass, that green light continued to diminish it as the silver plowed on.


    ¡°Which way do we go?¡± Felina¡¯s team used a thin-wire connection spread between them in place of short band. More secure than any other option, the line would snap if they strayed too far apart.


    Yira opened her palm and a little round-mouthed sucker fish rose up. Its body was made of blue light, like a hologram. Spinning for a moment like an old magnetic compass, it eventually came to rest in a direction off to the right and down relative to their current position. ¡°There.¡± A beam of blue light followed Yira¡¯s finger.


    Mako and Evan took off first. Massive, ground-shaking strides from the huge cyborg-shark knocked distant leaves from their branches. Evan on the other hand skittered forward, keeping pace with the bruiser is if they were jaunting along on a wilderness hike.


    Felina and the rest of the team followed close with Gaz in the second position, barely able to keep pace with the two cyborgs in the lead.


    Where the Root station had been laid out more or less like a standard ship interior last time, this time it resembled a tangled mass of kudzu with limbs and leaves as large as transport ships occasionally blocking their view.


    The silver amoeba ship Evan brought faded out of optics, but not aural range. A concussion large enough that it scattered fragments of branch and leaf all over the stations interior made Gaz stop and catch her balance, Yira slipped and both Felina and Gaz grabbed her. Nanites automatically bit into the branch from Gaz¡¯s feet and red-alerts kicked off throughout her internal systems. A green glow spread over Gaz.


    ¡°They know we¡¯re here. And they probably know who we are.¡±

 Chapter 31 - Alaya

    Marcus had long since grown impatient with his fellow clergymen. Though not personally a member of their order, the Root clerics had treated him as an honored guest from the moment he¡¯d stepped aboard their station. Like most theurgists, Marcus respected the Root clerics for their particular Great Work, said to embrace the serenity and essence of old Earth before her abandonment to the void. Their mission, the spread of life through the galaxy, was as noble a cause as Marcus could have envisioned. Their pacifism was legendary among theurgists and helped spread the rumor that all theurgical spell casters shared the same ethos.


    But something was wrong.


    His labors carried him away from his family on a daily basis. Though never invited to participate in the Root clerics¡¯ sacred rites, Marcus was put to work with administrative duties. Long nights spent sorting through minor disputes had weighed on him for the better part of a year. Lately, his work had piled up each day despite his best efforts to head it off. He¡¯d seen his family less and less often, and they¡¯d allowed him to chat with Alaya and Gaz over comms less frequently. It was good to know they¡¯d settled in a different Cluster, Yillian Cluster, but he would have liked to see and speak with them.


    None of those things bothered Marcus, none of those spoke to the discomfort he felt. What troubled him was the way he felt he was being managed. As an administrative adjunct, there were pieces of information pertaining to the functioning of the station he could have used, should have been trusted with. But still, three quarters of a year later, the Root clergy forced him to submit local Net requests through another cleric, who would either deny the request or provide the information in the form of a data file.


    Then there was the fact the Root cluster kept him away from the hangar. Marcus¡¯s duties gave him a glimpse at the station¡¯s import and export logs. Large amounts of material, much of it redacted, moved in and out of the station every day. Why redact that information? When he¡¯d asked to see the hangar, he¡¯d been denied. The second time he¡¯d asked, they¡¯d told him to stop asking.


    No one single thing had unsettled him, no this discomfort was born of the aggregate of those little inconsistencies. Perhaps some factional conflict divided the clergy? Or maybe some of them had decided he was a security risk? He knew the last part was unquestionably true. The security risk Marcus represented was why his family lived aboard the Root station, why the clerics in charge curated Marcus¡¯s information so thoroughly.


    Without knowing what was wrong, he had only suspicions, suspicions which Marcus sought to confirm right this moment. Forbidden to use the bulk of the Root clergy¡¯s resources, Marcus was still permitted the rights of a guest priest. As such he now headed toward a small sanctuary along one of the moving branches of the Root, conveying him inevitably closer to his goal.


    It was a tiny chapel, austere after the fashion of his own order. More to the point, some considerate Root cleric had draped the walls with multi-colored prayer flags and left a bowl of incense in the center of the altar at the far wall from the entrance. His home altar, though smaller than this, contained only a few more sacred accoutrement of his faith.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Such decorations made for superfluous distractions for the laity and the novice priests. But for someone like Marcus, who¡¯d mastered the fundamentals of theurgy, even a paltry few objects could significantly empower his magic.


    Marcus folded his robes carefully and knelt down in front of the altar. After several deep breaths, Marcus leaned forward and breathed across the top of the incense stick which awaited him. The fire of the Dharma left his lungs and ignited the stick of incense to produce a red ember on the tip.


    Halfway to the necessary mental state, Marcus chanted for a few minutes, quietly enough audio sensors would have strained to make out the ancient Tibetan syllables he¡¯d uttered. One or two Root clerics would know the language as well as he did, but none of them worshiped in the same manner. It was pleasant little reminder of his own path, the route his devotions had taken.


    It also opened his inner eye. It had been far too long since Marcus had consulted the Daikinis and the Boddhisattvas.


    A shining blue figure appeared before him, in other traditions, he would have been called the gatekeeper or the warden of the future. But in his tradition, the man with his little black hat, white robes and black curly beard hair was the great uniter of the Dharma, Dorje Chang.


    What should have happened was the uniter should have burst into a rainbow fan of light, which Marcus would have stepped through to receive a glimpse of the future. Instead, Dorje Chang expanded.


    His black curly hair grew incredibly quickly, covering his body and turning his blue skin as black as the void itself. Glowing golden eyes sunk into Dorje Chang¡¯s skull, turning them red and bloodshot. A beatific smile turned down like a candle laid on its side in the heat of a solar passage. Then white fangs appeared at the bottom of his lips and rivulets of crimson blood began to drip down his chin.


    The figure now stood on one of its many legs, the ground formed of the body of the poisons of Samsara. Gore encrusted entrails circled the figure¡¯s waist in place of its pure white robes and the blood from that skirt ran down and pooled around the figures representing aversion, the demons.


    Transformed now from the conveyor of the Dharma to her most ferocious wrathful defender, a lesser priest would have trembled before the form of Mahakala. But Marcus had met the wrathful one before, just never by surprise.


    He bowed his head to the one who¡¯d sacrificed virtue itself out of concern for the Truth.


    Mahakala spoke: ¡°Seek your family by the red thread of Upaya, seek the truth by the white thread of the Namshe. Seek freedom in the form of a lost one, bound to another Sangha. Do not trust the Root priests for they have made union with the forces of avarice and aversion.¡± In the time it took the great master to speak, he¡¯d grown from the size of an idol dancing upon the altar¡¯s surface to something larger than the room, larger than any section of the Root station Marcus had visited save the hangar itself. The master finished his speech. ¡°And seek your freedom in the light of the Void, cast by your former home.¡±


    Marcus was forced out of the room and onto his back by the apparition. Outside in the hallway where he¡¯d entered the prayer room, he found the Root station in its natural form, rather than in the shape of mobile hallways and platforms. Branches with incredibly large circumferences moved and twisted through the space he could see.


    At his left lay a red line, the same kind of thread the master of his own order had given him when Marcus had taken his oaths of office. At his right lay a white thread, the same he¡¯d earned the day he became a fully initiated priest.


    Without a thought, Marcus jumped to his feet and pulled on the red thread, following it along the branch he stood on, which itself drifted slowly away from where the wrathful deity he¡¯d summoned had burst and began to stalk the branches.


    Something was dreadfully wrong, but the only concern Marcus had in the moment was for his family.

 Chapter 32 - Gaz

    Green theurgic light covered Gaz, lit her way through the Root station as she ran. Felina carried Yira along, the priestess incapable of the movement which the rest could manage so easily. Claws, both feline and mechanical bit into the wood as the branch whipped about, trying to dislodge them. She could only guess at how Mako stayed connected to the surface of the branch as it moved, perhaps scales on his feet bit into the bark?


    No matter.


    A wave surged toward Gaz. Her nanites clenched into the bark, even as the field surrounding her took damage from the green light. Incredible force, enough to kill baseline dead, rippled through her. It tried to send her flying into the rest of the churning branches but failed.


    Shouts broke out ahead. Their thin-wire connection had already broken and they had to speak in voice to share information now. A second branch scraped along the first and sent bark chips and smaller branches flying toward Gaz.


    Evan and Mako dashed away from each other, both narrowly avoiding the wooden limbs as they tried to crush them along their path. Gaz fired jets from her hips as she leaped away from the branch, somersaulting over the second incoming branch. She passed within millimeters of the second branch, now able to make out the green glow lining it as it narrowly missed squishing her body.


    Jets fired again at the apex of her leap and sent her back to the surface of the first branch. The moment her feet made contact, she was already sprinting forward. The others had reformed, none of them taking damage from the Root station¡¯s attempt to destroy them.


    The priests had to know the group was here now, had to be trying to kill them. But none had made an appearance so far. Only the station itself and its disparate sections struck out and tried to murder them.


    Was something else also attacking the Root clerics or were they waiting for Gaz and her team at their destination? She could guess at this point.


    Evan led their team, which was good because Yira was having trouble. The oracles had been correct, at least in that regard. They¡¯d needed Evan to survive this place. Between the two magic users, Gaz and the others continued to narrowly avoid the Root station¡¯s automatic defenses.


    With processors to spare, Gaz kept watch for their enemies. Among the ever-shifting foliage, the clerics could have easily hidden themselves and wrecked havoc open Gaz and the others. None of them appeared.


    What did appear was a boxy cyborg with massive hands and feet, big blocks Gaz would have recognized even without the slight covered afforded by the anti-ship weapon in her hands.


    Jaree.


    Gaz shouted a coded warning to the others, saving their lives as she jumped from the spot where Jaree fired her weapon. A line of crimson light emerged from the end of the gun like a targeting beam and then spread apart in moments.


    The heat wash melted away layers of the nano-armor Evan had given her. Processors tossed up alerts, the most significant of which showed Felina and Yira caught in the edge of the red beam.


    With nothing to hold onto and no way to adjust her momentum, Gaz fired her jets and morphed her body into a tiny bird form.


    Jaree shouted in glee as pieces of ashen remnants of the station floated down around her. Knowing the capabilities of her sensors, Gaz would not be able to avoid Jaree¡¯s notice. The ash was too thin for that.


    She¡¯d turned to fire at Gaz, too late. The thin beam of the pulse weapon reached out into the distance behind Gaz, and its expansion missed her by even more than the first. Gaz, however, struck Jaree right in the face.


    Nanites exploded out of swarm hives, covering Jaree and burrowing into her systems. As expected, the advanced cyborg did not succumb to Gaz¡¯s attack. She dropped her pulse weapon and clapped her hands onto her own face. This time she caught Gaz¡¯s wing and crushed it against her own form.


    Hostile nanostructures met her own, heating the air even more than the pulse weapon¡¯s discharge.


    Gaz surrendered the chunk of her body to the bruiser cyborg and dropped to the group, already retrieving mass and shifting into a small, but quick battle form. Very similar to Evan¡¯s new combat chassis, Gaz resembled a large spider as she crawled up the back of Jaree¡¯s legs.


    Jets and lasers fired in sequence from the back of Jaree¡¯s calves as Gaz clambered up the giant. She dropped to her butt and slammed her leg into the base of the branch, trying to crush Gaz against the wood.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Circling the massive cyborg¡¯s legs, Gaz presented herself as a target, already knowing what Jaree would do. She slammed her own fists down on her leg, missing Gaz but shaving a few atoms of her substance off in the process. Also destroying one of Jaree¡¯s own legs to spite Gaz. There was an advantage in knowing her foe.


    In the moment afforded to her by Jaree¡¯s blind attacks, Gaz formed a spike at her arm and drove it like a screw through the massive cyborg and out her backside.


    Jaree laughed at Gaz, mocking her as the spike missed anything which might have been considered vital.


    The second time she brought a fist down on her own body, she hit Gaz as squarely as she could. The force of the impact sent red text flying through Gaz¡¯s vision, warning her of the danger to her organics. Sensors still in place, Gaz could not help but watch as Jaree raised her hand to finish Gaz off.


    And froze.


    ¡°What the fu.fufufufufufufu¡­¡± Jaree began glitching as Evan¡¯s spindly form stepped around her.


    ¡°Well there you are, Gaz.¡± His composite white face spread into a grin and said, ¡°you know, this guy¡¯s organics are pretty flimsy.¡± Blue static erupted over Jaree¡¯s body and the cyborg screamed. ¡°You want him alive?¡±


    ¡°Them¡­ no.¡± Gaz knew what Jaree had done, but more importantly, Jaree knew what Gaz had done. ¡°Can I use their chassis?¡±


    Evan¡¯s smirk was obvious as the life signs faded from Jaree¡¯s chassis. ¡°Go for it. I¡¯ve done enough work on you that you should be able to slide right in, more or less.¡± As he spoke and Jaree went limp, the massive cyborg¡¯s cyberbrain ejected from their chassis and into Evan¡¯s hand. A compartment opened on his chest and sucked the brain in. ¡°I bet Nathaniel would kill for his.¡± He winked. ¡°Get in there and let¡¯s roll.¡±


    Gaz crawled into the space left behind by Jaree¡¯s mind. With Evan¡¯s assistance, Gaz took over executive control from the dead cyborg. Not as smooth and easy to control as her own chassis, Jaree possessed fewer features, so there was less for Gaz to worry about.


    Best of all, the Root cluster didn¡¯t seem to attack Jaree¡¯s chassis, though it was attacking Evan¡¯s. When she stood and flexed her limbs, Evan hopped onto Jaree¡¯s back and latched himself in place by reconfiguring his limbs.


    ¡°Does their memory bank tell you where their friends are?¡±


    Evan tapped Gaz¡¯s shoulder and spoke into her mind. ¡°Yes, might I suggest grabbing that pulse weapon?¡±


    Right! Gaz chuckled the way Alaya would have as she bent down and lifted up the pulse cannon. ¡°Should I just open us a path?¡± This particular cannon possessed most of the expected pulse features including width and length modulation.


    Not only did Evan send Gaz a map of the surrounding section of Root cluster, which was no longer attacking them with its branches, but pinpointed the exact location of the hangar. Several little blue dots stood between them and the hangar, all of which alleged to be ¡°friendlies¡± from Jaree¡¯s perspective. The friend of my enemies¡­ Gaz took aim and calibrated the cannon¡¯s systems to wipe out a ten meter radius cylinder between her and the hangar, leaving open enough space before hitting the large room to keep from damaging any of the ships within.


    Weapons of this size and power should have had more recoil. Aside from the heat discharge, which Jaree¡¯s chassis ate and dissipated, there was almost no indication she¡¯d even activated the firing sequence. Red light washed over the branches of the Root station and then they were simply gone. All of the little blue blips disappeared too leaving a two hundred meter space between Gaz and the hangar.


    Where the Mousehome sat waiting for them.


    Powerful launch jets flared out of Jaree¡¯s legs and arms, sending her hurtling toward the hangar as a large, familiar ship rose up and swiveled toward them. It was the Mal-Ware¡¯s flagship.


    In the moment, Gaz had a choice, fire upon the pirate ship and risk hitting the Mousehome, or let them go and evade the inevitable attacks from the massive ship¡¯s weapons.


    So much death.


    With only milliseconds to decide, Gaz chose life. She had no idea if Alaya were aboard the flagship, no way to know if Kirk were alive. She tossed the cannon aside and shifted every system in Jaree¡¯s chassis to evasion. AI clumsily, yet effectively dodged the blasts from the flagship, who¡¯d held off firing their serious weapons at her, likely to avoid destroying huge chunks of the station. Or because they still had people aboard.


    Several little blue blips appeared across Gaz¡¯s virtual map with a single wide-area blob of red. It was hundreds of meters off to the relative south and in the opposite direction of the now fleeing pirate flagship. Gaz overflew The Mousehome where Evan dropped and skittered across the top of the ship.


    EMC systems flashed across Jaree¡¯s controls, someone either aboard the Root station or the pirate vessel had pulsed her and failed to knock Jaree out of the air. But they no longer had her flagged as a friendly.


    She tore through the roots, enabling plasma blades the length of the average baseline. Jaree¡¯s was the kind of chassis which made Gaz open her mouth in glee as she activated its automatic defensive systems. Blades the color and heat of a main sequence star reduced the oncoming branches to so much ash. The parts of the station which tried to bar her passage fell into darkened bits of coal and desiccated pieces of bark.


    Red lines of blackened, glowing angry red trailed behind Gaz as if the Root station couldn¡¯t regenerate from the damage she¡¯d done, or from the amount she could sustain. Her target area loomed large before Gaz who struck an unexpected metal bulkhead front first. Sparks flew from the impact as pieces of Jaree¡¯s chassis went dead from the force and heat generated. Not even enough to slow the massive bruiser chassis, Gaz righted herself and slid the rest of the way down the side of the metal surface, hunting for a doorway which would give her access to the contents. Judging from the power demands, a serious bundle of communications or other forms of equipment resided here. And Gaz was either going to break it or take whatever she found.


    Hopefully, it pointed the way to Alaya.