Rebel (Rebel Stars Book 0) (14 page)

"Forgive my temporary naivete," Rada laughed. "Even if they weren't in debt to the point of being overthrown, we're talking about lasers. Interstellar drives. Gods know what else. Whoever has the ship immediately becomes one of the biggest players in the system."

"Correct. The surprise isn't that a government would kill for it. The surprise would be finding a government that
wouldn't
."

"Or a corporation. Excluding Toman, of course."

Simm smiled, tight-lipped. "Of course."

"Speaking of, what's his plan from here?"

"In flux. The IRP isn't a power on the order of Valiant or Dison, but they are large enough to be a handful. On top of that, they're known for their intransigence. It isn't believed that bullying them would be an effective strategy."

Rada sighed. "Sounds like more skulking around is in our future. How's that been working out for us?"

Simm's cheek twitched. "How many more people do you think would have died if we'd charged in guns blazing? If we went after them like they went after your ship?"

"Don't you dare."

"Lonnie's dead, too, Rada. Because we stuck out our neck. I don't know if you talk like this because you're angry or if this is just who you are. But if going slow and steady saves a single life, it's worth all the time in the world."

She closed her eyes. "You're right, Simm. I am angry. And I'm sorry. As long as we're moving forward, that's as much as I can ask."

He was quiet a moment. "You'll be pleased to hear that Rigel's death has not been mentioned in any official capacity."

"His IRP friends must have cleaned up the mess before the authorities noticed. Toman, did he have anything to say about it?"

"He expressed two minds. First, he passed no moral judgment on the act. You say it was self-defense, and even if it wasn't, he believed it was a justified eye for an eye."

"But?"

Simm tugged the hair above his temple. "But he's wary of what such an action says about the person who performed it. If that action were to be repeated another time, that person would be deemed an unacceptable risk to the goals of the Hive."

She couldn't help her laughter. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?"

"Usually, I'm told the opposite."

"Well, they're wrong." Rada grinned at him. "I'll be good, Simm. Promise."

~

They made port at Jindo, a small, ring-shaped station floating in the middle of nowhere. The place was all business, with hangars and dry docks encrusting both the inner and outer surfaces of the ring. The
Tine
needed a hull job, nothing more, and this wasn't expected to take more than a few days. Once the ship was back in action, they would act as Toman's eyes on the scene, keeping tabs on the asteroid while the Hive plotted out the best way to wrest away the alien ship.

According to Simm, while Toman was browbeating his people into figuring out how to do so elegantly and sneakily, no methods were off the table.

While they waited for the mechanics to finish with the
Tine
, she and Simm wandered around Jindo. Though she couldn't wait to get back up in vacuum, she was happy for the respite. Jindo had a culture of artisanal, hand-built vessels that contrasted with the mass-manufactured designs pumped out of the major shipyards, and Rada found she could get lost watching its craftsmen grind down the sweep of a wing or the curve of a nose. Most were geekishly happy to interrupt their work to show her the blueprints, concept art, and computer models. Simm made for a good companion, too. He didn't talk much, but was knowledgeable without being overweening about it.

On their third day on Jindo, Rada found herself being lectured by a portly woman with extremely strong opinions on the necessity of a proper starship paint job.

"It doesn't matter what it is," the woman said. "It could be a name. A pattern. A dragon fencing with a unicorn. All that matters is it's not nothing."

"But almost no one's going to see it," Rada said. "Not unless you're docking with them. Or they've got their nose pushed against the port glass."

"But
you'll
know it's there." She leaned her face close to Rada's, eyebrows raised. "And whenever you launch, whenever you voyage into the nothing protected only by your thin metal shell, you'll do so knowing exactly who you are—and that the universe had better sit up and take notice."

Simm touched his ear and walked out of the hangar. Ten minutes later, he returned, waited for the conversation to finish, and beckoned Rada outside.

"I just heard from the Hive," he said. "The asteroid—it's moved."

"
Moved?
How do they know?"

"Apparently Lonnie dropped a spy as soon as she figured out the asteroid was our mark. Her spy's been running silent to avoid detection. Until a few hours ago, when four
Bunkers
helped tow the asteroid away."

"To Triton?"

He shook his head. "Jupiter. The LOTR has strong reason to believe its final destination is Io."

Rada glanced back at the hangar, lowering her voice. "How do they figure? Did they decrypt Rigel's device?"

"Yes, but that hasn't proven as helpful as hoped. They pulled this from a job posting. Turns out IRP is hiring."

"If this is a metaphor, I don't understand it."

Simm began to walk down the quiet plastic street, gazing up at the buildings occupying the spacious interior of the ring. Mainly prefab, but most bore sculptures and paint jobs as quirky as the residents.

"It's no metaphor," he said. "IRP has just put out a call for a large number of workers. They're looking for construction, excavation, anyone with experience working in extreme environments. Must be willing to work on-site for several months. Single people preferred."

"And the site is on Io?"

"The ad doesn't say; strict NDAs are also a requirement. But the LOTR have dug into IRP's holdings and found property there. Combined with the relocation of the alien vessel, and some further intel they haven't seen fit to share with me, they're positive the IRP intends to build a more permanent location for the ship. One that can't be stumbled on by wandering interlopers."

"Io would be the place. Not much there but volcanos." She bit her lip. "The Hive wants me to apply, don't they?"

Simm bobbed his head. "There's just one problem: the applications are being conducted on Skylon."

"Where IRP's agents will be on the lookout for me—as both Rada Pence and Jone Viciedo."

"That would be the issue, yes."

"No problem," she said. "Let's go get me a third face."

~

To her surprise, Simm meant to apply, too. LOTR set them up with fake IDs. They bought brand new devices and connected them to their new names. LOTR had sent them application templates designed to maximize their chances of being accepted. They customized them to fit the stories they were comfortable telling and sent them to the IRP contact on Skylon.

Both were accepted for an interview. As soon as the
Tine
was ready, they took off from Jindo and made way to Skylon. Once they arrived, Rada revisited the cham, paying extra to ensure the woman's silence. She gave herself a full day to let the minimal redness and swelling fade, then alerted the IRP recruiter she was in port.

The recruiter replied within the hour, scheduling an appointment for the following day, a few hours after Simm's. The next morning, Simm left the apartment a full hour ahead of his appointment. She wished him luck and he smiled tightly. Once he was gone, Rada repeated her cover story to herself until it felt seamless.

Her appointment neared. She headed out. On the elevator up, she was conscious of every glance her way. Her paranoia proved to be just that, however, and she reached the office without incident.

She was held in a waiting room with thirty other applicants before being called in to meet Mr. Karson, a middle-aged man with a soothing voice who rarely looked up from the four devices on his desk. During the first leg of the interview, they went over her experience, a modified version of her real-life CV.

"Versatile. I like it." He set down one device and picked up another. "Moving on. You haven't been married? No children?"

"That's correct. I'd like to get my feet under me before committing to anything like that."

He typed something into his device. "Parents?"

"My dad was a crewman. He died on the
Pinta
, trying to make it out of the system." She gazed down at the table. "My mom was an addict. Whatever she could get her hands on. I never really knew her."

Karson frowned at his hands. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Everyone has a story. About the best you can hope is that it's boring."

He chuckled. "Well, the project is expected to last several months. Perhaps as long as a year. It's a sensitive operation. Employees will not be able to leave nor send off-site communications for the duration. If there is anyone in your life for whom that will be too long a separation, this may not be the job for you."

"It's fine," she said. "I'm all I've got."

Karson nodded and made another note. "Excluding financial reasons, why do you wish to join us on this project?"

"Does it matter?"

"We need to know whether you'll be psychologically suited for such an endeavor, don't we?"

Rada had ginned up a lengthy financial motivation for her new persona, but hadn't given much thought to the psychological side. She shook her head, stalling.

"It's kind of personal," she said. "Working ships, spending leave with the crew, it's easy to start down a dark path. You quit looking toward the future and start looking toward the next night you can hit the bars. This job, it won't be like that, will it?"

Karson scratched his chin with his thumbnail. "It won't be a spa retreat to the coast, either."

"I know that. It sounds like hard work and a lot of time alone with yourself and the walls. That's exactly what I want. I refuse to walk that dark path. It's the same one my mom went down. At the end, there's nothing but the void."

He stared at her for three seconds, then blinked, as if emerging from hypnosis. He added something to his device. "Thank you for your time. We'll be sure to let you know."

Rada walked out feeling like gravity had doubled. She'd flubbed it. Shouldn't have brought up the shit about the bars. It made her look unreliable. Undisciplined. A job like this, they would want people they could trust. Not your everyday spacer loser.

Two days later, she got the call. She'd been hired. Simm hadn't.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He cocked his head. "For what? It doesn't matter who goes. All that matters is that we have someone on site to confirm the location of the ship."

"Don't tell me Toman's finally decided to take off the gloves."

"He has become very angry they killed Lonnie without giving her the chance to disengage. And you don't want to make him angry."

"I'd be more excited if we knew for sure the ship was actually there."

"At the very least, you rule out a possibility." Simm smiled. "And we move on to the next one."

She was called in for a physical. They removed her personal receiver from her ear and replaced it with one of their own. Assuming it was bugged, she didn't see Simm again. Notice came. They were to set sail at five in the morning. Unable to sleep, Rada packed her things and sat in her room until the lull of the night between when the drunk spacers had gone to bed and the responsible civilians had woken up.

The ship at the port was an inelegant square. Rada wondered if it was the one that had killed her crew. The flight took five days. Their devices were cut off from outside transmissions and she split her time between reading up on Io and making small talk with the other hires. There were more than a hundred of them and the mess hall was clamorous and packed. The officers wore red-trimmed uniforms, and though they told the new employees nothing, they enforced strict discipline on their schedules, hygiene, and behavior.

They were invited to the mess to watch the landing. Io was a yellow globe zitted by volcanos and awash in flood plains of magma and sulfur. The instability of the surface meant there were virtually no permanent settlements. Abandoned mining and research installations speckled its face, half-buried in the angry discharge of the moon.

The ship came to rest on a patch of paved ground. Rada lined up with the others and prepared to deliver herself to the enemy.

11

"Your duty is simple." From the stage, the woman stared them down, the whites of her eyes compressed between the dark wedges of her brows and the pale, puffy bags beneath her lower eyelids. "Do what you're told. Do so efficiently and without complaint. And we'll all get along fine."

Their IRP-provided devices dinged with their assignments. To Rada's resigned amusement, she found herself assigned to the carts. The dark-browned woman barked out their schedules; they would be split into two overlapping shifts. Rada was with the later crew. While the woman went through the terms and protocols of their new home, four assistants in red suits circled among them, answering questions.

"My name's Sollivan." Her orienteer was in his early thirties, a few years older than her, with a widow's peak and round, watery eyes. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Looks pretty standard," Rada said. "Just glad I'm not on first shift."

"Tell me about it." Sollivan smiled, eyes squeezing halfway shut. "If I can be of any help, you let me know. That's what I'm here for."

She was housed with twenty other women in a prefab cabin just large enough for their bunks and trunks. They got started on the digs that same day. The excavations sprawled across a circular basin embraced by two arms of yellow-crusted rock. A conical volcano spurted to the south, hazed by the low-lying atmosphere of its plumes. A dozen buildings were already erected, connected by tunnels. Most of the new hires were brought around to familiarize themselves with the machinery. After a brief chat with Sollivan, Rada swung into a cart and started hauling away debris.