Indomitable (23 page)

“You're human,” Promise said with surprise. “Those don't apply to you.”

“I agree. I am human, and because I don't regen I'm now eighty-two percent synthetic. Wireless tech might leave me open to a virtual attack. My entire self is drive-by-wire through what's left of my original neural network. I'm safest that way and so are my toonmates. I can't even link with a coffeemaker. It was that or one-eye blind and a gravchair.”

Promise couldn't help noticing his ears.
P, stop scanning the man's anatomy.

“I asked for big ears, ma'am. You know, to hear better with, and the points were for style. Thankfully, my inner ears are fine, and so is my balance. Cochlear implants have a long way to go. I manage.”

Margolease tapped the bridge of his nose.

“Crushed by the turret of a hovtank. I have rebuilt sinuses and a top-line filtration system. I can tolerate level-five contamination sites without a rebreather, at least for short periods of time. I can hold my breath for days.”

“Sergeant, I'm happy to have you aboard.” Promise nodded at Margolease and then at her Marines. “That's my shuttle over there. I'll see you next week.”

“I hope you enjoy the trip.”

“I'll try. Kathy, get the sergeant settled and take him to the chow hall. Strike that. Take him off-base and get him something edible. Charge it to my account. Private Atumbi, get his gear stowed. Sergeant Margolease, welcome to Hold.”

“Thank you, ma'am. My friends call me Jay.” The sergeant flashed a set of perfectly straight teeth. “Yeah, I'm walking on glass too. It goes with the image.”

“What's your call sign, Jay?” asked Kathy.

“Lazarus.”

“Dead man walking,” whispered Kathy.

“Don't I know it,” replied Margolease.

“I like it,” said Promise. “You're going to fit right in. Welcome to the Pythons.”

Promise slapped him on the shoulder and felt impossibly hard muscle shake off the blow. “Jay, I am really looking forward to working with you.”

 

Twenty-seven

MAY 14
TH
, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 2123 HOURS

PLANET GUINEVERE, NIGHTSIDE

KIES ORBITAL TOUROSPHERE

After two uneventful jumps
and a surprisingly fast burn in-system, Promise stepped onto the deck of Kies, a newly renovated pleasure sphere with four-star accommodations and a round-the-clock casino. She was wearing one of the few off-duty ensembles in her locker: a pair of gunmetal slacks and a white blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves, and matching shoes. Promise had wanted something in a quiet system, not too busy, with as few people as possible. Kies was the only operational platform in orbit around Guinevere and it was far enough off the grid for the colonel's taste. And Kies maintained a small sister resort on the surface, Kies Black Sands. Other than that and a biogenic firm on the surface, the planet was undeveloped.

By all outward appearances, Guinevere was the model HAB planet. But looks were deceiving. A flu-like virus had attacked the initial survey team three months after landing, all but wiping them out. Something like that had never happened before on any other explored world. It ran contrary to the “locked ecosystem” theory. Until Guinevere, alien environs had shown early signs of cracking the human genome only after a generation or more had passed. Guinevere changed everything. Kies Inc. put a biogenic firm planetside for a small fortune when no one else would. In trade, the RAW gave Kies a planetwide lease for a hundred years.

Ms. Night met Promise at the bottom of the landing slip. Night was medium height and wore a cerulean dress slit up the thigh. In the right light, the dress changed to emerald green. She was human, not a mech. This helped explain Kies Orbital Tourosphere's four-star rating.

Promise's minicomp chirped as the attendant held out her hand.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Paen. I see this is your first time with us. And you're staying the night. Wonderful.” Night paused, eyes focused inward. “You're checked in and your I-dent is coded to your room. I'll have your bags sent up. May I generate your retinal key?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ms. Night looked at her intently. The white of her left eye turned black, and her pupil a solid green.

The focused burst of light caused Promise to blink. A second later, Ms. Night's eye was back to normal and she was smiling as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“That's expensive tech,” Promise said. “Your employer spared no expense.”

“My colleagues carry readers. I served eight years in the Sector Guard before getting out. Mostly customs sweeps in backwater systems. It was incredibly boring except for the five days I can't tell anyone about.” Night's smile reached all the way to her eyes. “This”—she pointed to her eye—“was courtesy of Aunt Janie. I believe the two of you have met.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Ms. Night glanced at Promise's hand. “Are you meeting someone, Ms. Paen?”

“No, I'm running solo.” Promise smiled warily. “Why?”

“Comm me if you change your mind. We have other guests vacationing alone.” She turned both palms upward. “And a small staff of highly trained courtesans. Sometimes it's nice to have company.” She gave Promise a telling look. “Our questionnaire only takes five minutes and identifies over forty-two dimensions of compatibility. Access the panel over your vanity and follow the instructions. Our house AI, Gunnar, will be happy to assist you.”

Promise's eyebrows rose. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“I've uploaded a map of the station to your minicomp. Are you hungry? Most everything is closed for the night. Except for room service, which is open round-the-watch.”

“Famished, actually. I've never been one to eat during transit. The shuttle food wasn't very good anyway. How's the pasta?”

“How's linguine with local surf and turf and fresh greens sound?”

“Perfect.”

“That's why I'm here.” Ms. Night nodded her head and smiled. “Done. I'll have it sent to your room.”

“Actually, I'm not ready to turn in just yet.”

Night's smile froze for a split second before relaxing naturally.

“Then I recommend White Kies, our tiki bar. It's open all night.”

“A cup of caf will do.”

“Cream and sugar.”

“Please.”

“Consider it done. May I help you with anything else?”

“I'd like to go for a run in the morning before I shuttle down to the surface.”

“The observation deck is a must-see. Guests usually prefer the outer ring.” Night pursed her lips. “I, on the other hand, run on Level Five. It has the most open space and the fewest tourists. You may link your mastoid implant to the ship's music library. We have over a thousand genres in our files and playlists to suit most every taste imaginable.”

“Thank you. A bit of peace and quiet is just what I need. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't looking forward to this. My chain of command is very, well, never mind.”
Now why did I tell her that?
“I'm sorry. I'm not at liberty to discuss it.”

Ms. Night nodded like she understood. “Someone up the COG FUBARed and you took the fall.”

Promise snorted. “Ms. Night, you are perceptive.”

“I've had enough of Aunt Janie's school of hard knocks to last a lifetime.”

“Oh, my room on the surface won't be ready until tomorrow afternoon, about fourteen hundred hours. Anything you can do?”

Night held up a finger and cupped her ear. “I know someone who—” Her countenance brightened. “Troy, how are you, handsome?… Yes, I know I still owe you dinner. Don't worry. I always keep my promises. I'll make it up to you.… Please, stop that, I'm with a guest.” Night dipped her head, turned away. “Ms. Paen … Papa Alpha Echo November … yes, that's her, she's due in tomorrow and she'd like an early … Possible?… Noon isn't early. I'm sure she'd like to have lunch on terra firma … please do that … I'll hold.” Night blew a puff into her bangs. “He always does this, puts me on hold and makes me wait when I know he's just going to get me what I want.” Night's eyes widened and she pointed to her ear. “Ah … yes … Troy, but I asked about Ms. Paen's early. Fine … I'll meet you for dinner on Tuesday. What will I be wearing? Let's keep that a surprise … just wear a tie … about Ms. Paen's early … eleven is perfect. Thank you, Troy. You're a peach.”

Whatever Troy said last caused Ms. Night to blush.

“Ms. Paen, your room will be ready by eleven hundred hours. Your shuttle leaves on the half hour but please arrive fifteen mikes before that.”

“Fantastic. Please thank Troy for me. And it's Promise.”

“I'll be sure to do that, Promise.” Night cupped her hands together in front of her and quirked her head.

Right. That.
Promise fumbled for her minicomp and hit
TRANSFER
.

“That's very kind of you.” Night tapped the side of her eye. “I have a micro-HUD in the same eye. I like to stay informed.”

“It's been a pleasure, Ms. Night. You've been most helpful. I plan to let management know.” The two shook hands and Promise's stomach growled. “Now, which way to the bar?”

*   *   *

Ms. Night watched Promise
disappear into the station proper. She sat on a nearby bench and began typing into her datapad. A moment later she received an encrypted comm over her mastoid implant.

“Sir, she's in.… No, sir, I don't think she will be a problem. She's a loner. I was subtle. She got my point and she wasn't interested in company. But—” And Ms. Night took a deep breath. “—she could encounter the client. You know he likes to dine late.” Night visually winced at her employer's response. “No, sir, I tried. She wasn't ready to turn in. However, she let something slip. Her superiors aren't happy with her at the moment. She's keeping a low profile and picked Kies for a distraction.… Yes, I'll keep an eye on her. I already have eyes in the sky.… No, sir, I seriously doubt it. Not unless she goes looking for them. And why would she do that?”

Ms. Night tagged Promise with two whiskers, and headed for her room. If Paen did anything she shouldn't, her probes would let her know. The odds of that happening were remote. And Night was tired. It had been a long day and tomorrow she was pulling a double. One of Kies's chief shareholders was due in the morning for a tour. Then more guests at noon. She had a banquet at six and everyone from the station chief to the lowly research assistant on-planet would be there, and she still had reports to file. Best to get some sleep while she could. That's what she told herself before she entered her room, set her minicomp to wake her in an emergency, and tossed it on the nightstand. “Gunnar, something from the oceans, please.” Waves crashing always did the trick. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

Twenty-eight

MAY 14
TH
, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 2145 HOURS

PLANET GUINEVERE, NIGHTSIDE

KIES ORBITAL TOUROSPHERE

Promise walked into White
Kies after a brief stop at a small observation post along the outer ring of the tourosphere. The Clown Nebula was just visible to the naked eye. A dais sat near the viewscreen, which opened at the top. It was shaped like a bowl and contained a polished black orb. It warmed to Promise's touch. A well-dressed man appeared in a fitted trench coat with matching slacks and an old-fashioned pair of frameless glasses.

“Hello, Ms. Paen. My name is Gunnar, the station's AI. Would you care for a tour? If you'll just take a seat, there, we'll be on our way.” Gunnar motioned to a comfortable-looking armchair that hadn't been there a moment before. Beside it was a small, circular table. On it lay a small visor that fit her perfectly.

“I'll let the kitchen know to keep your meal hot.”

Promise opted for the spacewalk and the room about her shifted, and then she was looking out the visor of a vacsuit with a filtered view of the fifth planet. It ended up being ten minutes very well spent. Alterra boasted the most beautiful ice rings she'd ever seen. The experience wasn't quite complete and the gravity in her stomach kept reminding her of how hungry she was. With some reluctance, Promise killed the program prematurely and found her way to the bar.

White Kies was an oasis in the stars. Throughout the bar palm trees grew in pots, casting shadows over wicker tables and chairs. The roof appeared thatched, and sunlight winked through here and there. Just off the bar, groomed sands dotted with reclining beach chairs and tables completed the setting. Calypso and birdcalls played in the background. Promise opted for a seat at the bar, poolside, and leaned in so the terminal could scan her eyes. An attractive middle-aged bartender appeared a moment later with a steaming cup of caf and a tray of additives to doctor it blond. The second tray was piled high with finger foods.

“Ms. Paen, welcome to White Kies. I'm Tanin and these are on me for while you wait. The tartare is divine.”

Tanin placed a cloth napkin and a full service on the bar top with expert care, and fussed a moment until it looked just right. Kind hazel eyes, framed in silvery hair, looked up at her. His muscled arms wrapped in a sleeveless tropical shirt fit the ambience perfectly.

“Let me know if you want something stronger.” He smiled. “Your entrée will be a few more minutes. I just need to shell the clams.”

Promise laughed as Tanin disappeared through a set of swinging doors at the back of the bar. She dumped and stirred and sighed as the caf went down extra hot, swiveled in her chair, and looked up as a thunderhead rolled across the overhead. A slight breeze stirred the room.

But for her and Tanin the bar was nearly empty. In one corner a young couple was playing a game of chance and an elderly gentleman appeared lost in a book. A short grunt came from the cage behind the bar. She turned to find a cheerless, four-legged creature with sad eyes looking at her. A bowl of fresh fruit sat at the bottom of the cage.