Stellarnet Rebel (17 page)

His gloves were connected to a fog wraith character programmed for him by Hax. It did not require constant attention, since Belloc was too busy helping her and Duin to maintain a full-time game incarnation. Other players thought the wraith was a “mob”—a non-player mobile object in the game, like a steam troll or zombie—that randomly spawned in the Wet Moors quest.

She’d watched Belloc play before, and no one ever beat him. He couldn’t be zerged, though several guilds had tried. It helped that his injuries regenerated within seconds, he was resistant to electricity and water-based magic, and anyone within a ten-foot radius of his incarnation lost mirth points until they succumbed to despair and stopped fighting. Belloc usually owned them long before that happened.

“Come in,” Belloc called out as he dodged the fairy’s ethereal sword. He kicked into the air. On the wall, his incarnation kicked the Tesla coil from the scientist’s hands.

J’ni stepped inside the doorway.

“I didn’t know you had a meeting today.” He bent backward at an impossible angle in order to avoid a bolt from the cyborg’s raygun. “When do you need to leave?”

“I don’t. I need a friend, not a defender.”

He turned to J’ni. “You have it.” Belloc touched his glove and his incarnation flickered and vanished from the wall. The incarnations of the other players looked around in confusion.

“You could have finished your battle first.”

“If you need me, then my most difficult battle is already won.”

J’ni wasn’t sure what that meant, but her concern for Duin outweighed her curiosity. “I’m worried. How long is he going to be gone?”

“Until he returns. He can’t bring the weapons here. He would take them to Glin. It will be another day or more. Don’t worry.”

A loud banging echoed through the garden. Belloc touched his gloves and checked the netcams around their block for the source of the noise. J’ni peered at his arm and saw Owen in the stairwell knocking on the wall with a wrench.

“Should I worry now?” The slight tightening of Belloc’s face and narrowing of his eyes told her
yes
.

They went through her compartment, and Belloc let Owen in. Aileen’s bouncer removed his flat cap, crumpling it in his hand as he spoke.

“Genny, I came to tell you something. Your fella went out to make a deal.”

She wanted to sit down, but her legs wouldn’t move. She searched Owen’s face for the words he wasn’t saying. “I know what he was doing. What happened?”

“He met up with the agents and took possession of some cargo. Then those Tikati jackboots nabbed him.”

Her heart plummeted into her feet, and she staggered. Belloc moved to catch her, but she managed to remain upright. Too stunned to feel the anger, too numb to cry, she asked, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. My contacts said he was last seen being chased by several ships.”

“And that’s it? They left him?”

“What else could they do, Genny? They shifted to Earth and sent word to me. It took awhile, for the lag, and it going through alternate channels.”

She tried to fill the cold void of fear inside her with the heat of action. “How long ago did this happen?” She touched her bracer. “I’ll get Blaze to send someone out there.”

“Fuck, Genny, you can’t go telling the Big Man. This is a covert operation. Your fella didn’t want anyone to know.”

“My
fella
doesn’t want to die at the hands of the Tikati, either.”

“He knew what he was doing, Genny, and he knew the risks,” said Owen.

Yes, there were risks, but she’d always believed that Duin could overcome them. “Is that it, then?”

“That’s the sum total of all I know, Genny. I’ll tell you if I hear anything else.”

“Thank you.” It was mere courtesy. She didn’t feel thankful at all. Owen left her block, and a terrible thought crossed her mind.

“Belloc, who else knew about this deal?”

“Duin, Owen, the gunrunners, you and me. No others.”

“Then how did the Tikati find him?”

Belloc shrugged in that graceful, rippling way of his. “If Duin didn’t watch the sensors, a Tikati patrol could take him like an
udul
snatching a
neep
from a
pitat
leaf.”

She shook her head. “Space is a big place. Too big for that kind of random bad luck. Do you think the gunrunners, or Owen, might have betrayed him somehow?”

“I think many things, J’ni. And I trust no one but you.”

“Did Duin say not to tell Blaze?”

“He said that it might upset his relations with Earth.”

“Blaze can keep a secret.”

Moments later, Belloc was in his Zentai suit and trailing her to the edge of the military zone. He sat to wait for her while she went to the colonel.

Blaze took one look at her face and cursed. “Goddamn it.” He repeated it several times as he typed on his desk.

“Blaze, I need your help.”

The colonel held up one hand and she said no more. After a few moments, he waved for her to sit down. “’K, Genny, make it quick. My office cam is glitching on a loop of the past few seconds, since you walked in. But that can only go on for so long.”

She gave him a quick summary of what happened. “Owen and Belloc might know the coordinates of the rendezvous. You could send out a patrol—”

“No, I can’t. That’s too far from Asteria. Our ships don’t go more than an hour in any direction, and suddenly we’re way out there, Christmas caroling, fa-la-la, in the very same spot an illegal arms deal went down? That will make Earth look very, very bad, Genny. Like we knew what Duin was doing and supported his actions.”

“But, Duin gets money from the U.S. government.”

“What we do and what we appear to do are two different things.”

“Then I’ve got to go to Glin. I’ll take Kitik up on his offer. He’s finished here, right? The G20 was his last scheduled meeting, earlier today.”

“Which Duin was supposed to attend.”

“Call Kitik, tell him you’re going to send your witness with him. Tell him INC is very eager to learn all it can about how much the Tikati have…” she sneered at the word, “…
helped
the Glin.”

“We don’t have a clue how much the Tikati know about you and Duin. If those ‘businessmen,’ or anyone else from Earth, has told them how y’all are shacked up, or if the Tikati have the technology to access the Stellarnet—”

“
If
, Blaze,” she interrupted. “
If
someone told them. Or
if
they’ve managed to patch into the Stellarnet and decode all the encrypted signals, and
if
they even know where or how to l’up my blog. That’s a whole lotta
if
s, and I’m willing to take the risk. Why would they ask me to come if they knew?”

“To fuck with him. They get you, they get to him.”

“It’s
Duin
, Blaze. I’d walk through hell barefoot, if I had to.”

“You are crazy. Crazy as a damn alien.”

“I have to leave without telling Belloc.”

“The blue guy? Looks like the marlin hanging on my granddaddy’s wall?”

“Don’t let him into the military zone, don’t talk to him, don’t tell him anything until I’ve gone.”

“Why?”

“Because he’d find a way to stop me.”

The longest he’d ever waited for J’ni was eleven hours and twenty-three minutes.

He’d watched her enter Sector M, Level One, eleven hours ago. She said she would be there for a while. Based on his limited experience with humans, “a while” could mean anything from a few minutes to several days.

Belloc checked his gloves again. Her locator didn’t show up when she was in the military zone, but it would at least tell him if she was anywhere else in the colony. No, he hadn’t missed her. And she didn’t appear on any of the netcam archives or feeds that he viewed and reviewed.

The last time she’d contacted him was at 1208. That was after the Tikati liaison informed Elder Blaze that Duin would no longer be involved in any diplomatic efforts between Earth and Glin because he’d been arrested. She had cried as she told Belloc, tears of joy that Duin might still be alive, and tears of misery for his imprisonment.

Belloc thought she was beautiful when her eyes rained. Even though it pained him to think that water meant she was suffering. But Owen—whether or not he was involved in Duin’s capture—was right about this: Duin knew the risks and had chosen his way. Belloc recalled the conversation he’d had with Duin before the Tikat liaison arrived.

“If something happens to me, it rests upon you, Belloc, to replace me. That’s one reason why I brought you back with us from
Wandalin
, why I wanted you to learn English, why I taught you to fly the Tikati ship.”

Belloc wondered what his
other
reasons were, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he said, “What would I do to replace you?”

Counting on his fingers, Duin answered, “Respect love. Defend freedom. And kill Tikati.
Awah na glem.
For water and freedom.”

But Belloc was no patriot. He’d been in his own sort of war with Glin all of his life. Even if his world were free tomorrow, he would remain on Asteria, if the humans allowed him to stay.

“What about J’ni?” he’d asked Duin.

“Yes, she’d help you. She could tell you what I would do, and teach you how to blog.”

That wasn’t what Belloc meant.

He waited another hour in the Colony Square, watching the humans and thinking about what he would do if Duin never returned and he had J’ni to himself. Then he pulled on his gloves and touched her name.
Genevieve O’Riordan.
He said her full human name in his mind.
Genevieve Elena O’Riordan
. Then her Glinnish name.
J’ni Nagyx Duin
. He allowed himself a moment to ponder the sound of
J’ni Nagyx Kehlen
and decided that someday he would tell her his true name.

Not available.

He touched the contact icon again. Same result. He closed the app, reopened it on his other glove.

Not available.
 

Moving to a more quiet area of the station, one of the “blind spots” Hax had shown him, he removed his hood and touched the link to the Tech Center.

“’Sup, Corundum Conundrum?” answered a Hax whose vivid red hair was cropped very close to his head.

“My gloves aren’t working.”

“Nope, your gloves are tits, Bel. A-OK. Copacetic. Shiny.”

“Then why can’t I contact J’ni?”

“Your Iseult is not in the colony, Tristan.”

Iseult and Tristan were words unknown to him, but Belloc understood “not in the colony.”

“She’s in the military zone.”

“No… she’s not.” Hax checked something on his wall. “Sorry, bro, looks like she left at 1400 with Liaison Kitik, some of the UN doofs and a military escort.”

Belloc bolted for the Tech Center. “She did not leave,” he told Hax as he sprinted down the thoroughfare. Clanging open a stairwell door, Belloc hopped a railing, pushed off a wall and then hit the lower landing at a run.

“I have some pretty compelling evidence that she did. I’m looking right at the vid from the Hangar C archive.”

The next thoroughfare was busier, and Belloc danced through the crowd without slowing. “She would have told me!”

“Right,” said Hax’s voice from Belloc’s glove, “because you would have totally let Captain Creepface take her away.”

“Meh!”
Belloc jumped over a stack of crates in a connecting hallway, rolled and was on his feet, through the door and into the next thoroughfare, without slowing.

“You realize you’re showing up on a couple dozen different netcams without your hood on?”

“It doesn’t matter. The Tikati liaison is gone.”

And J’ni was gone.
Nothing
else mattered. When Belloc reached R-02, he ran up to the red-haired Hax and swept a hand through him. “Where’s the real one?” He searched the room.

“Hax-Prime will arrive in six minutes forty-three seconds,” said the Hax-sim.

Belloc’s thoughts and feelings raged within him like a devastating
soom
. Of course she went because she thought she could learn more about what happened to Duin, maybe even see him again, for which Belloc admired her beyond measure. The depth of her love for Duin and the courage it gave her were as immense as the Great Ocean.

But he couldn’t allow her to remain in danger. That was not an option. It was his sacred duty to keep her safe. Plus, if something happened to her, and if Duin escaped, he would find Belloc and feed his little pieces to the
driznit
. Very slowly.

“Can I buy a ship?” he asked the Hax-sim.

“You have that much money?”

“I have the passwords to J’ni and Duin’s account. And the passwords to Duin’s secret accounts.”

Hax-sim nodded. “It would take about six weeks to get here.”

“I can’t wait six weeks.”

The manifest for Sector W appeared on the wall, and Hax-sim gestured to it. “Most of the private ships have already returned to Earth. There are two ships in the hangar, but they need maintenance. Six more are arriving sometime within the next couple days.”

“I can’t wait a couple days.”

“Well, how long
can
you wait?”

“I must go now.”

“You could shift yourself over there, and then shift back with her.”

“Could I?” asked Belloc.

“Sure, if you’re about to crap a physicist and a sub-particle engine.” Hax looked at the young Glin in expectation.

“What about military ships? Can I buy one of those?”

Hax-sim shook his head. “Not unless you’re the king of an unstable yet strategically valuable region, with the hand of the United States up your puppet-ass.”

“I’m not,” Belloc answered, even though he didn’t quite understand. “Am I?”

“My sources say no.”

One of the Tech Center’s many tables moved to reveal a hole in the floor, and another Hax climbed out. This one had black hair wrapped into a knot on the back of his head and secured with sticks.

Belloc thought of the fake corridor from their first meeting. “Is this another illusion?”

The black-haired Hax threw a very real arm around Belloc’s shoulders. “This is an evil genius.” He gestured to himself. “And this—” he gestured to the floor, “—is the entrance to my lair.”

He let go of Belloc and started waving his hands in the air, opening several windows on the walls.

Belloc crouched and lowered his hand through the hole. “But, we’re on Level One. There is nothing below us.”

“Nothing except Level Zero. New quest: Would you like to steal a ship?”

“Yes.” Belloc replied without hesitation.

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“As dangerous as facing down a crowd of Glin, or staying the
r’naw
-tooth knife in Ga’Duhn’s hand?” Belloc stood up and held out his hands to Hax, imploring. “When my life was no longer my own, she gave it back to me. I owe her
everything
I have.”

Hax stared at him. “Right. I forgot the whole stoic heroic thing. My fail.”

A map appeared on the wall, displaying not three but four levels of Asteria Colony. The fourth, Level Zero, was little more than a dozen square areas connected by winding passageways, stretched out below the dense grid of Level One.

“I recommend going up through Sector I, here.” The red-headed Hax-sim pointed to an area in the military zone. “You need one ship and one pilot. Routine tactical sweep of colony airspace means two patrol ships go out every hour. At 0300, those two patrol ships will be from the Sector O hangar, with pilots Captain Shanice Avery and First Lieutenant Ramone Padilla of the U.S. Air & Space Force. Go for Avery.”

A picture of the pilot appeared on the wall, as well as a live feed of the hangar.

“She’ll be in the ship on the far right, the SX-418,” continued the Hax-sim. “There are only two ways into Sector O, through block O-21 and block O-71. The others have been closed off. Both entries have guards posted, and I doubt you’ll be able to just walk in.”

“It only takes a little juice from those gloves, Bel, to stun them,” said Hax-Prime. “It doesn’t take much to kill a human. We can’t resist the electric shock like Glin do.”

Belloc made a slight nod toward the wall, indicating all of the information before him. “I thought the military zone was not accessible on the net.”

Hax gestured in the air and several windows began filling the walls of the Tech Center. One contained a vid of Duin and Owen in the corner of Aileen’s pub, and another the Tikat liaison at a meeting table with several humans. Another showed Elder Blaze in his office. Other windows displayed vids of people Belloc didn’t recognize, until a familiar form drew his eye. It was J’ni, in bed with Duin, sitting astride his lap. Belloc touched the wall, tracing his finger along the curve of her back.

Hax chortled. “I am omnipotent. Muah-ha-ha.”

When Belloc didn’t respond, Hax leaned against the window that held the Glin so enthralled. “I said, ‘I am omnipotent muah-ha-ha,’” he repeated in a conversational tone. “I see all.”

“Yes,” agreed Belloc.

Hax made a gesture in the air and all of the windows disappeared, including the vid of J’ni. He handed Belloc a data key. “This will get you through any door in the military zone. I’d have the sims open them for you from here, but someone in the M-Z might catch on. Then you’d have the MPs up your A-Z-Z A-S-A-P.”

They climbed down what Hax called the “rabbit hole.”

Parts of this underground level looked like the blocks above, but most of it was winding, plastic-lined tunnels.

“How did you find this place?”

“I built it myself, with a little help from the bots and the minions, of course. I was one of the first colonists shifted to Asteria, so I appropriated most of the abandoned research outpost and moved it down here.”

“Does Elder Blaze know?”

“Very doubtful. The only people who know are you, me, the me-sims and the Epic Nine.”

“Epic Nine?”

“There’s twelve of us.”

Belloc doubted an explanation of that would make any sense, so he didn’t ask.

In a block similar to the Tech Center, several people played Mysteria. On the walls, Belloc recognized some of the incarnations he’d fought before. Then they entered a room filled with crates, computer equipment and clothing. Hax found Belloc a suit, boots and a helmet, similar to the gear worn by the Asteria police force, a combination of both body armor and spacesuit. Hax spent a few minutes messing with the settings. It cycled through a series of changes, displaying the colony police emblems, U.S. military insignia, and some other things Belloc couldn’t identify. When it glowed light blue like the UN peacekeepers, Hax handed it to him.

“Your shining armor, sir.”

Belloc wore the suit over his own clothing, pulled on the boots and tucked the helmet under one arm.

“Don’t get killed.” Hax led Belloc down another long, plastic hallway. “Res is disabled.”

“Their shock poles won’t affect me.”

“No, but their guns will.”

“The ESCC doesn’t allow guns on Asteria.” Belloc knew that, because he knew how hard Duin had tried to get some.

“Things changed when the Tikati came. Don’t forget the number one rule, Bel: The people with the guns make the rules. Your suit will give you some protection, but it has weak points. Neck, armpits, knees, face. And your hands, of course. The gloves aren’t bulletproof.”

Belloc gave a nod of acknowledgment.

They stopped at a ladder that went up to another door in the ceiling.

“Once you go through that hatch, there’s no coming back.” Hax picked up a pole lying nearby and prodded at the portal above. Red strings of light criss-crossed the doorway, and pieces of pole rained down on them.

“You try to return, you’ll be Glinburger. And if too many of them follow you here, this whole corridor will self-destruct. So, don’t do that. That will annoy me.”

“I understand.”

Hax disabled the deadly beams and checked again with the pole to be sure. “One last thing.” He thrust a finger into Belloc’s face. “You were never here.”

“Thank you. If you thought I was going to fail, you wouldn’t ask me to keep your secrets.”

“You won’t fail. You are full of win, my friend.”

No one had called Belloc friend before. No one but J’ni.

Belloc put on the helmet and climbed the ladder. The door was smaller than the one in the Tech Center, and it led into a crawlspace for the waste, water and recycling pipes. He twisted through these until he reached a wall panel, which he pushed open. Beyond, he could see a room about the size of J’ni and Duin’s compartment. But instead of a bed, table or kitchen, it was lined with shelves and stacked with crates, tools, furniture and items Belloc couldn’t identify.

He climbed into the room and replaced the panel. Checking his gloves, the station time was 0224. He had thirty-six minutes until Captain Shanice Avery left in her SX-418.

Exiting to the hallway, he looked around. The helmet gave him a limited range of vision, but it covered his head and face, preventing him from being identified as a Glin. Hax had also programmed the visor to display a map of the military zone, and Belloc’s position as a little dot within it, so he could find his way. At the moment, Belloc was in block I-59 on Level One.

He held the data key in his hand in case he needed it, but most of the doors were wide open between hallways and thoroughfares. Everyone seemed to be busy, so his hurried pace did not attract attention. But he still felt like a
muk
swimming through a pool of
puqui
. If one of them realized what he really was, they would all tear him apart.