Silver Eyes (20 page)

President Castellan ignored her son, all her focus on annihilating the man who had stolen Timothy from her not once, but twice. “Nobody can force someone else to commit a criminal act. You're the one who abandoned morality—”

“Your hands are hardly lily-white. If the mines are closed down, my people will die.”

“You exaggerate,” President Castellan said coldly. “If such a decision were made, the Spacer population would be relocated to Earth free of charge.”

Mike and I exchanged glances. This could go on for hours, and Eddy could strike at any moment.

“President Castellan,” I said loudly, “look around you! Where are all the Spacers with silver eyes? Where are all the Augments SilverDollar paid for?”

Jerome looked impatient at the interruption, but President Castellan frowned. She looked around the room at Jerome and the four other Spacers hanging silently against the walls.

“Rianne, show her your heart.”

Rianne scowled but obeyed, pulling down her neckline so that the trapdoor showed.

“Why weren't you given an Augmented heart?” President Castellan asked the very question that had been bothering me. I had a theory about the answer.

“Precisely my point,” Jerome said. “Birth defects that are tolerable in zero-G will be crippling in Earth's gravity. I can move easily in space; on Earth I will be constrained to use canes and wheelchairs. Even if we wanted to, I and my people cannot return to Earth as easily as taking an elevator. Without Augments, Earth will kill us.”

President Castellan's forehead wrinkled. “Yes, yes, I know. That's why I insisted on spending millions on Augments for Spacers even when the board of directors opposed me.”

Jerome looked blank. The two of them were talking at cross-purposes. I intervened again.

“The Spacers never received the millions of dollars you budgeted for Augments for them.” I spoke as if I knew it for a fact, not just a logical guess. “Eddy embezzled the money. And that's not all. Ask them how much ransom they received.”

President Castellan's mouth fell open. “Is this true?” She turned to Jerome. “I paid two and a half million to get Timothy back.”

Timothy stared at his mother in astonishment.

Jerome's eyes narrowed shrewdly. “We asked for one million. After months of negotiating, we settled for one hundred thousand dollars.”

“He won't get away with it,” President Castellan seethed. “I'll nail his carcass to the wall.”

“But he
will
get away with it,” Mike said.
“Unless we get out of here right now. In order to cover up his crime, Eddy needs all of us to die. He's going to attack and then tell the world it was a reprisal for the unprovoked killing of President Castellan and her son.”

President Castellan turned to Jerome. “Release us, and as soon as I've cleaned house, we can talk about
compensation. I'll forget about the kidnapping charges I should level against you.”

It was a generous offer; I couldn't believe it when Jerome refused. “No. I have only your word Edward Castellan was responsible. SilverDollar has promised before and reneged. No one is released until you sign the Martian mines over to the Spacers.” He indicated a paper held to a magnetic table.

“Like hell I will,” President Castellan said.

S
HOUTS AND THE CRACK OF GUNFIRE
from down the hall ended the argument. The attack had begun. Jerome and President Castellan were caught with their mouths open.

“Congratulations,” Mike said angrily. “You just got yourselves killed.”

“Eddy will have put Anaximander in charge of the strike force,” I told Jerome. The irony would provide Eddy with more pulling-off-butterfly-wings fun. “Leave Anaximander to us.” Anaximander wouldn't shoot Mike or me on sight. “Protect your hostages. I don't have time to convince you, but that is
not
a rescue mission out there.”

“Think of it this way,” Mike said. “You can't afford to be wrong. Rianne, hop on.”

I pushed back into the corridor and began to pull myself hand over hand toward the sound of the battle.

“So what's our plan?” Rianne asked from Mike's back. “We ambush Anaximander?”

“No,” Mike said. “We drown him.”

We rounded a corner, and the gunshots got louder. As we stood there, two Spacers retreated past us, one bleeding bubbles of blood that floated away in zero-G.

“How many attackers?” I yelled as they went by.

“Six. Four robots and two men in armor.” The injured Spacer and her companion had softguns but no body armor.

I waited for a break in the noise and then yelled: “Anaximander! Don't shoot. It's me, Angel.” My voice echoed down the corridor, but Anaximander's Memory Recorder had a voice identification feature and the gunfire stopped.

“Angel? What are you doing here?”

“It's a long story—Mike's here, too. We're here to help you rescue Timothy and his mother.”

Anaximander didn't confirm that he was there to rescue them. “Come out with your hands up, and we'll talk.”

I went first, launching myself around the corner, both hands well away from my body. Mike followed with Rianne still on his back.

Anaximander didn't shoot. Neither did the two robots with him. Two, not four. The other armored man must have taken two robots and gone down a branching passageway. I could hear faint gunfire in the distance.

Both Anaximander and the robots were armed with blastguns. Blastguns used the same kind of bullets as softguns, but like machine guns, they
were capable of firing many rounds per second. They weren't as safe; if fired point-blank at a wall, the wall would probably remain standing, but there would be holes in it.

From the quick look Mike shot me, I knew he'd noted the significance of the missing man and robots. We would have to act fast. There was a good chance that only Anaximander had been entrusted with the orders to kill President Castellan and Timothy, but Eddy might have other employees with Loyalty chips.

Anaximander flinched when he looked at
Rianne—drowning, I hoped. The movement carried him back half a foot in zero-G. “Who's this?” he asked.

Rianne didn't take her eyes off Anaximander. I could sense her trying to find her father beneath the opaque silver gaze.

“An ally of ours, Rianne Pelletier,” I said.

Another small stagger that zero-G exaggerated into a slow spin so that Anaximander had to grab a handhold to keep his blastgun pointed at us.

“She's a Spacer. Her father's name was Alexander,” I said quickly, before Anaximander could speak.

This time there was no flinch; he didn't move at all, didn't blink, but his hand gripped the handhold fiercely.

He also didn't reprimand me for the irrelevant information I kept feeding him. I kept going, talking faster and faster: “Her father drowned in a bayou in Louisiana. He was one of the men who kidnapped Timothy the first time. His boat tipped,
and he didn't know how to swim.” And, finally, most devastatingly, “You're Rianne's father.”

The last one did the trick. Anaximander curled up into a ball, hands coming up to cover his ears even though his helmet was in the way. His silver eyes were incapable of tears, but he threw back his head and keened in anguish. The sound sent a chill up my spine.

The robots watched impassively, frozen.

“Your wife's name was Francine. She loved you so much she engraved your name over her heart. Eddy made you watch your wife die.” I sandbagged him with guilt.

“Francine.”
Anaximander shuddered under another memory, another drowning. It was horrible to watch, like seeing a blind man walking through a minefield, setting off explosions with every misstep, but it was necessary.

When I had regained my memory, Mike had been there to hold and help me. With Anaximander, we couldn't take the chance of comfort. His Augments made him too lethal. We had to keep him drowning while we removed his chip.

When we unscrewed his helmet, his head came up, disoriented, but he sensed something was amiss. His hands combed the air in front of him, and he twisted away.

“Damn,” Mike said, and sprang after him. I tried to hold Anaximander's head still, but he yanked my hands away, then pulled me back. His arm went around my neck in a headlock, choking me.

“Do you remember me?” Rianne floated in front of him. “I'm your daughter. The last time I saw you, I told you I hated you.”

Anaximander's arms loosened and I pushed away, massaging my throat.

“I lied,” Rianne continued. “I was mad at you because I knew you were going to risk your life for my sake and I was terrified you would die. Then, at the last minute, I yelled that I loved you, and you stopped to hug me. Do you remember?”

“Thatta girl,” Mike said. “Almost there.” His fingers sprang open the panel in Anaximander's skull that was used to access his Augments.

“When I was five, you had to miss my birthday party, but you recorded a birthday message for me. You sang me a little song, a stupid little song that you'd made up, which didn't even rhyme.” She started to sing in a clear alto. “ ‘Happy birthday, Rianne/ I'm sorry I can't/ Be with you today/ I miss you every way.' ” She called up memory after memory as we worked.

Unlike mine, Anaximander's Loyalty chip simply plugged into his other Augments. Instead of having to reset the chip's mode, all Mike had to do was locate it among the other Augments and pull the chip out. No surgery, no pain.

It was a small thing to have caused such harm. My first thought was to crush it, but Mike folded it up in tissue and pocketed it. “We need it for evidence.”

I nodded and turned my attention to Anaximander—or rather Alexander—who was still curled into himself. I tried to pat his shoulder and ended up clutching his arm for balance. “It's not your fault. You aren't responsible for the actions the chip made you commit.”

If he heard me, he gave
no sign. It wasn't my
forgiveness that he needed. I signaled Rianne to come closer.

At first she didn't seem to know how to comfort him. She drifted just short of touching him, looking helpless. I was about to tell her to put her arms around him when her own reserve broke. “Daddy?”

His eyes opened. “Rianne. Baby.” He pulled her to him in a close hug. Rianne clung just as tightly, and they spun slowly in place.

I had to look away. The moment felt too private.

I knew there would be problems and feelings for them to resolve later, but the first, biggest step had been taken.

Mike cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but Anaximander's partner might be closing in for the kill on Timothy and his mother right now.”

Anaximander kept one arm around his daughter. “You know that? You know that this isn't a rescue mission?”

“We figured it out a little while ago,” I said modestly. “Does your partner have a Loyalty chip, too?”

“No,” Anaximander said, but I never got a chance to take my breath of relief. “The other man is Eddy. He said”—Anaximander's voice changed, became Eddy's voice, or rather a memory recording of Eddy's voice—“ ‘I'm tired of missing all the fun. I want to see my sister die. I want her to look into my eyes and know that I'm cleverer than she is.' ” Anaximander's voice reverted to normal. “The fool.”

Mike and I exchanged shark smiles over Eddy's unbelievable arrogance. “We'll catch him with his hands dirty,” Mike said.

I got down to details. “How much firepower do
his robots have?” I asked Anaximander. “Should we take your robots with us? Will they obey you?”

“One of the robots is enough to kill everyone on the entire ship,” Anaximander said grimly. He seemed steadier now that he had a task to do. “All of the robots will take orders from me, but Eddy's orders have priority. We'll need to take out their command nodes.”

“And where are those?” I asked.

Anaximander demonstrated by putting a single bullet exactly between each of his robot's silver eyes. It was the closest I'd seen him come to bragging.

“Which way did Eddy go?” Rianne asked.

Anaximander pointed down a branching tunnel. As the four of us guided ourselves down it, the gunfire became heavier, a concussive throbbing that hurt my ears.

We stumbled over the remains of one of the robots. The Spacers had cut it in half. Its legs were still bouncing around aimlessly, while its torso clung to a handrail. Its blastgun was gone.

We saw more blood bubbles, but if any Spacers had been killed, their comrades had moved the bodies.

“Stay here while I go ahead alone,” Anaximander said. “I have armor, and Eddy's expecting me.”

I frowned. “Eddy has armor, too. What are you going to do when you find him? Tell me you're not going to confront him.”

Anaximander said nothing, his silence an admission.

“You can't kill him,” I said forcefully.

“Why not?” Rianne was totally on her father's side.

I scrambled to come up with a reason. “Because . . . he's the only one who knows where the stolen millions are. Without that money SilverDollar may be forced to shut down the Martian mines. All the Spacers will be out of work.” Money usually left a trail, but my reasoning sounded good.

“Okay. I'll disarm him.” Anaximander's voice was even, but something in his face made me uneasy, as if by “disarm” he meant “rip off Eddy's arm” rather than “take away Eddy's gun.”

“I'll come with you,” I announced. Before Mike and Rianne could protest being left behind, I handed Mike my gun. “You two set an ambush.”

“Be careful,” Mike said.