Probability Space (30 page)

“Four civilians aboard, cleared,” he growled into his comlink. “Where’re they supposed to go?”

“To Major Hofsetter’s office,” the comlink answered.

“Carver, take this four to Major Hofsetter,” the gangway officer said to the messenger of the watch.

“Three,” Magdalena said. She pointed to the younger of her bodyguards. “Kendai stays with the flyer.”

“Three,” the gangway chief corrected. “Carver!”

The watch messenger, who had been sitting on a crate and gazing at a handheld, lumbered reluctantly to his feet. Kaufman glimpsed pornography on the handheld. He gritted his teeth. Action or no action, this outpost was a disgrace. No wonder Magdalena had been able to buy tunnel clearances.

Well, that was to Kaufman’s advantage now.

She said to Kendai, “No one boards the flyer for any reason whatsoever. Are you convinced of that?”

Kendai nodded. It occurred to Kaufman that he had never actually heard the young bodyguard speak. Maybe he couldn’t.

Kaufman followed Carver, Magdalena, and Rory through the maze of corridors and elevators that was Caligula Station, Parts of it, Kaufman was cheered to see, were much closer to regs than the docking bay. Deck and bulkheads were clean, soldiers properly uniformed. The entire station wasn’t lax, and the army portion looked much better than the navy portion. The turf wars usual on SADC space facilities, with their necessary mix of services, had clearly been won at Caligula Station by SADA.

Except in the case of Hofsetter. He was a fat, greasy lifer who did not rise when they entered. Kaufman had him pegged at a glance. In the days when Kaufman had commanded combat units, this was exactly the type he’d gotten rid of. Hofsetter would sell a warship if the price were high enough and he thought he wouldn’t get caught.

“Hello, Hofsetter,” Magdalena said. “I’m here to deal.”

“New bodyguard, honey? Doesn’t look like he’s got Roly’s edge. And that’s half a SADN uniform he’s got on.”

“Crewman off the
Sans Merci
, and I don’t care what the fuck he wears or where he gets it. I have a big offer for you, Hofsetter. The biggest your slimy little operation is ever going to see, so pay attention.”

She sat, uninvited, in a chair beside Hofsetter. Kaufman saw that she wasn’t using her spectacular body for feminine advantage. This was a straight bargain. Rory stood alert, watching both Hofsetter and the door, and Kaufman did the same.

“I want you to peel all the SADN Belt-incident records for July third of this year. All of them. There’s an incident I want the file on, and I’m willing to pay off the entire navy if I have to. Plus a million credits to you.”

A million credits.

Something was wrong. Hofsetter’s eyes widened, as well they might. But along with surprise and greed, both expected, Kaufman saw something else: a sly, dirty triumph.

“A million credits,” Hofsetter said.

“Yes. By retina-verified chip.” Necessary, Kaufman thought. There were no communications, including banking communications, through the tunnels. A retina-verified chip would be good whenever Hofsetter returned to Sol, for as long as Magdalena’s extensive financial empire existed.

“Then give it to me. I already know what happened to Laslo Damroscher.”

Magdalena laughed, a sound totally without mirth. “Sure you do.”

“Yes. I do,” and even though Magdalena went on sneering, Kaufman saw that Hofsetter was telling the truth. Oh, God, no …
not now
. Everything he had planned depended on Magdalena’s believing Kaufman could help her find Laslo. Not now …

Her eyes tightened. “Prove it.”

“The chip first. Verified.”

“In hell, maybe. I’ll draw up the chip. Verification after you show me your so-called proof.”

“Fine by me,” Hofsetter said, and again Kaufman saw the gleam of triumph in his piggy eyes.

How was she going to react? Kaufman couldn’t predict. He needed Marbet. But Marbet was locked in the flyer head with Tom Capelo, and however Magdalena acted, Kaufman was going to have to prevent its losing him this one chance.

Hofsetter punched e-codes into his desk safe and drew out a data cube covered with the usual military warnings. He inserted the cube into his terminal. It was two-d, not holo, a routine recording. The terminal flashed the code for data integrity; if this recording had been tampered with in any way, including the integrity warning, it would self-destruct. There were ways around that, but it took expensive expert work. Still, maybe if Magdalena believed the data were falsified … Kaufman looked at her face. She knew the data were the real thing. How?

“I … obtained this, let’s say … after you came through here a few weeks ago,” Hofsetter said. And that was how Magdalena knew the data cube was real; until three weeks ago, Hofsetter hadn’t known Magdalena had a missing son. Caligula Station was almost as isolated as the World Systems The resources to create a falsified integrity cube were tunnels away.

The data began to play. Visual and audio—a cockpit conversation? No, this wasn’t a craft but a structure.

Kaufman had heard the other side of the conversation before. As it relentlessly happened again, the blip on the screen grew bigger. Kaufman couldn’t see the command displays, but he knew what they showed. Distance, speed, acceleration, thermal signature, weapon readiness of the approaching flyer.

He knew what he was going to see: The complement to Magdalena’s recording, the same event as seen from inside the asteroid. Terrible yin to horrifying yang.

“Sir … craft on the screen.”

“I see it. Distance and ID?”

“Still a half mil clicks out … a flyer, sir.”

“Military?”

“In a min … no, sir, civilian.”

“What the fuck … wait to see if they approach.”

Silence.

“Approaching, sir.”

“Give them the warning on all frequencies.”

A loud mechanical voice: “You are approaching a highly restricted area. Leave this area immediately
.”

And then, after a time lag and from some stupid mistake of a suddenly open comlink in the other craft, Conner’s voice,
“It don’t want us: Shoot it!”

“Wait, maybe…”

“You are approaching a highly restricted area. Leave this area immediately.”

“Fucking snakes! Shoot it!”

“I…”

“Fucking coward!”

“Sir, flyer accelerating.”

“One more warning, Mr. Tambwe.”

“Yes, sir.”

“THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! YOU HAVE INVADED A HIGHLY RESTRICTED AND HIGH-DANGER AREA. LEAVE IMMEDIATELY OR YOUR CRAFT WILL BE FIRED ON!”

“Unknown craft … SOS … Help! I’m—”

“What … how the hell is that son-of-a-bitch sending—”

“Being held prisoner here—This—”

“Fire!”

“Is Tom Capelo—”

The flyer on the view screen was hit by the invisible proton beam and vaporized. One moment it was growing larger and larger on the view screen; the next moment there was only empty space decorated with cold stars.

“Got it, sir. Should I file an incident report?”

“No. Not for this project. Just mark the automatic record.”

“Yes, sir.”

The terminal went blank.

Magdalena didn’t move. She looked unchanged, gazing impersonally at the screen, her lips faintly curved. Hofsetter lumbered uncertainly to his feet. He glanced at Rory, whose face Kaufman couldn’t see. A long moment passed.

She suddenly sagged against Hofsetter’s desk, a quick collapse as if all her bones had dissolved. It lasted only a second. She straightened, and an animal sound was torn from her throat, a sound Kaufman had never before heard a human being make. She launched herself at Hofsetter, her nails going for his eyes.

He dodged, fat and clumsy, and started yelling. Magdalena’s terrible sound went on, drowning out his. Footsteps pounded in the corridor. Rory leaped forward and pulled his boss off of the colonel as the MPs burst into the room. Rory threw Magdalena at Kaufman and went into defense stance, moving so fast that Kaufman, with a small part of his racing mind, wondered what kind of augments Rory had. He’d never seen a soldier move that fast. Magdalena sagged in his arms.

The MPs stopped, confused, awaiting orders. Hofsetter waved them out. “Fuck! She clawed me, the bitch! Get her out of here!”

She had gone limp. Kaufman hoisted her dead weight, but Hofsetter snapped, “Retina-signature first! She promised!”

Kaufman looked at him.

“I delivered!”

Kaufman nodded at Rory, who hesitated, looking for orders from Magdalena. She didn’t move. Her lips, so drained of color they looked blue, were rigidly clamped. Kaufman knew this stage wouldn’t last. He didn’t know the nature of Magdalena’s other dealings with Hofsetter. He said to Rory, “Do it.”

Rory picked up the credit chip, pried open one of Magdalena’s eyes, and flashed the chip against her lens. Hofsetter cried, “It ain’t legal unless she can blink!”

Rory leaned over and slapped Magdalena lightly. She wasn’t unconscious; she blinked. Rory peeled off the chip and threw it on the floor.

Kaufman carried Magdalena out the door, past the staring MPs. He snapped, “Guide us to our docking bay.” The MP bristled, but Hofsetter repeated the order and the MP obeyed.

If she would just stay in shock until they reached the flyer …

She didn’t. In a narrow corridor on E deck, she jerked in Kaufman’s arms and struck him. He dropped her, stepping back. She half fell, then got to her feet, and he had to look away from her face.

“They won’t get away with it. I won’t let them get away with it. They won’t get away with it. I won’t let them…”

Kaufman reached for her hand. She struck his away and he withdrew instantly. He’d seen what Hofsetter had not: The barb shooting from under her nail when she’d clawed him. Kaufman just hoped it was a slow enough poison to let them escape Caligula System before it put Hofsetter in agony.

“They won’t get away with it.” Now her voice was flat, more horrible than her raging. She looked as if she wanted to pull down the galaxy, and could.

Kaufman said respectfully but firmly, ‘We’re following this MP to the flyer.”

To his relief, she didn’t argue. She strode along, and Kaufman dropped a few paces back so he didn’t have to look at her face. Now, from the back, she resembled the purposeful, cold empire builder she was.

But she couldn’t sustain it just short of the docking bay, she turned to Kaufman, and he saw that the horror had reached her brain, no less deadly than the poison she had sent to Hofsetter’s. “Laslo…” It was a whisper now “… Laslo…” Again she toppled to the deck, and this time it was a genuine faint. Her body had shut down the horror in the only way it could.

That wouldn’t last, either. And now came the first part of Kaufman’s plan, which was not supposed to happen like this. Although it might make it easier. If Capelo could do it, that is …

This time Kaufman didn’t pick up Magdalena. Instead he strode toward the flyer, which meant Rory had to carry his boss. He handled her as if she weighed two pounds. Kaufman walked past the openmouthed messenger of the watch and his slovenly chief, past the uncertain Kendai, and yanked open the flyer door. He stood aside to let Rory go first with his burden. To the watch he said, “Immediate departure. Check your screen, damn it.”

“Startled at his tone, the same one he’d used on derelict soldiers all his life, the chief scuttled to his watch cabin. The messenger ran after him, and Kaufman heard the lock hiss as they closed the door preparatory to depressurizing.

Rory climbed into the flyer and dumped Magdalena into a passenger seat, not the pilot’s chair. The head door opened. Kaufman didn’t move. He knew that Rory, from long training, had only half his mind on Magdalena. The rest kept careful track of Kaufman, the trained soldier, and lesser track of the tiny civilian woman and the wimpy scientist. They only had a second before Rory moved to his habitual position, back to the bulkhead with the entire cabin under surveillance.

Tom Capelo fired from the bathroom. Kaufman slammed and locked the flyer door before Kendai could enter.

The nervewash was intended for a normal soldier, not an augment. Also, Capelo—even at this range!—had not hit Rory square in the nape, as he was supposed to, but in one shoulder. The bodyguard whirled and went for Capelo. But the nervewash, acting instantly, had at least slowed if not paralyzed him. Before he could slam his augmented fist into the physicist, probably killing him, Kaufman had grabbed Rory from behind. Kaufman couldn’t have sustained a full, direct blow from Rory either, but Rory’s eyes wobbled in their sockets and he stumbled. Kaufman yelled to Capelo, “Fire again!” hoping that a double dose wouldn’t kill the augment. Capelo fired, missed, fired a third time, and finally Rory collapsed on top of the unconscious Magdalena.

“Jesus Christ, Tom, Marbet could have done better!”

“Then you should have let her do it!”

Marbet had already squeezed past Capelo to the pilot’s seat. She said clearly into the comlink to the watch cabin, “Open vehicle bay door. We’re leaving.”

Kaufman said, “I’ve got it now, Marbet.”

She slid out of the chair and began to pull Rory off Magdalena and into a seat, and to strap both of them in. “Help me, Tom!”

He did. Kaufman said to the stupefied watch and Kendai, pounding uselessly on the flyer, “Your instructions indicate departure, sailor. Do it. Kendai, get into the watch cabin before depressurization or you’ll die.”

“Sir—” the watch said, and the title told Kaufman the disgraceful travesty of a soldier was going to obey.

“Do it, sailor! It’s in your bridge instructions!”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The signal for depressurization sounded, a steady clanging.

Kendai sprinted for the watch cabin. Kaufman, relieved, saw the watch let him in and reseal the door. He hadn’t wanted to kill Kendai, although he would have if necessary. He had already ended the gangway petty officer’s career in a court martial, which the fool hadn’t yet realized. Just as he deserved.