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Authors: Ann Aguirre

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Wanderlust (27 page)

BOOK: Wanderlust
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Jael winds up carrying me the last two hundred meters.

I don’t even bitch about it, though I know he’ll never let me live it down. No, I didn’t ask for help, but I guess the part where I stumbled and fell on my face sort of clued him in. He’s not an idiot, even if he’s beyond annoying.

Because he knows the emergency protocols, Vel keys us into the hangar. The doors hiss open, hinting at the delicious warmth awaiting us within. Since our luck usually works that way, I expect a firing squad to be waiting for us, or maybe a random pack of Morgut. I peer around the place.

Nothing so far.

After everything we’ve gone through in this hellhole, it can’t be so easy, can it? But maybe we’re due a break. Maybe.

Like desperate pilgrims, we stumble inside. Hard light floods my eyes, a shocking change from the winter landscape. I take quick stock of our surroundings: thick metal walls, high, open ceilings with fans and ducts in plain view. Apart from droids going about routine maintenance, the hangar is quiet.

There’s a ship.

A big one, too. Shiny and silver, it dominates the docking area. If there’s anyone aboard, they’re likely asleep since we’ve arrived just before dawn. Hopefully, the vessel belongs to some unsuspecting merchant who’s out in a land vehicle, innocently delivering spare parts. Maybe stuck in the snowstorm.

And I don’t give a shit about stranding him. If things go poorly out there, he might not need his ship back after all. But first we have to figure out how to steal it. I don’t expect that’ll be instantaneous, because only a fool would outfit a fine cruiser like this and then not lock it up tight as a virgin’s legs.

The AI greets us politely as we cross the floor. “Welcome to Hangar 47-A. It is unlawful to participate in aggressive activity in this space. If you use projectile weapons, please activate the safety mechanisms now. Please remove power cells from items such as sonicblades and disruptors. Please stow all other dangerous devices. If you refuse to comply, a Peacemaker unit will be dispatched to your location, you will be neutralized, and we will conduct a thorough inspection of your belongings. All contraband will be confiscated to fund the operation of Hangar 47-A. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I laugh softly because all I have is a shockstick. I drop it into my backpack and I’m done. Swaying on my feet, I watch the others scramble to deal with their weapons before we’re dubbed dangerous, and the droids react accordingly. Hit removes a ridiculous amount of armament from her person, cursing all the while.

Small circular units hover nearby, monitoring our progress. When we finish, the courteous, inhuman voice says, “Thank you. Please avail yourself of all public facilities until departure.”

I’m surprised it didn’t ask us to visit the gift shop. We didn’t linger long in the hangar, the first time I visited, and I’m starting to see why. Having everything so well orchestrated by machines makes me feel oddly extraneous.

“Is it me, or is there something spooky about being the only living things around here?” Hit asks, glancing around.

She rubs her hands up and down her arms, the first outward sign of nervousness I’ve seen from her. So the pilot doesn’t like droids. Interesting, considering that she’ll jack into the ship right next to me.

“Droids are more reliable than people,” Dina mutters.

Her sled gives an ominous whine, and I start looking for a place she can recharge. I point. “Over there. You can patch into that power station, I think. Might want to do it soon.”

She gives a nod. Hit follows her, as if expecting the mechanic will need a hand. I was going to, but it’s probably better if Hit helps. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.

To my vast delight, the climate control works just fine. Heat drifts down from the vents overhead, compensating for the weather. My teeth chatter as I strip out of the insulated suit and return it to Vel with a murmur of thanks. He stashes it in his pack, conduit to all good things.

I’ve lost count of how many times he’s saved my ass now. At this point I should just hand over the deed. Or maybe tattoo it with
Property of Velith Il-Nok
. That clinches it.

I’m so fucking tired I’m losing my mind.

“I need some time with the computer.” Vel pitches his voice loud enough to reach the other two, working on the sled. “I can get the boarding codes and access the ship via remote, but I do not know how long that will take. I recommend the rest of you get warmed up and have something to eat. There should be a waiting area over there with basic amenities.” He inclines his head. “In case of mechanical difficulties.”

I watch Dina’s halting steps toward the lounge, one arm slung around the pilot’s neck. As they move off, Hit tells Dina, “I’ll help you get comfortable, and then scrounge up something to eat. Sound good?”

The mechanic’s voice carries back to me. “Mmm, prepacked vending chow. I’ll buy. I need to get started on those rehab exercises, though. I’ve been wearing an EMP band on my thigh, but that can’t make up for plain hard work.”

I definitely notice a vibe between those two, but then Dina scores more than any man I ever met. More than once, I’ve seen her take home a girl who never looked twice at her own sex before. She’s definitely gifted.

Don’t ask me why I’m not right there with them, looking for a place to crash. Or a vending unit that will sell me something to eat that isn’t nutri-paste. Anything. I’d kill for some choclaste right about now.

Vel heads toward a terminal, and I trudge after him. The AI warns him that’s for official docking personnel only, but it doesn’t deter him. After watching him mess with it for a few minutes, I’m surprised that none of his high-tech gear can convince it to let him into their system.

“Maybe I can help.”

“How?” Jael asks at my elbow.

I ignore him and dig through my pack looking for 245. She’s a closed interface, but she might know of a backdoor in the security or a fail-safe included in the design. Mair provided her with an astonishingly eclectic database. Plus, 245 is the only Lachion native among us. That can’t hurt.

I power her up, input my access codes, and she greets me with, “Good morning, Sirantha Jax. It has been eight days since your last entry.”

How can the modulated female voice
I
chose from her option files sound so accusatory? I ignore the small surge of guilt over leaving her out of the loop.

But I try to placate her nonetheless. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had. I’ll tell you all about it in a bit, but first, we need your help.”

She won’t be able to resist that appeal, as it would constitute going against her programming. “How can I be of assistance?”

“I need to know everything you do about the Lachion hangar systems.”

“Accessing,” she responds.

“Good idea.” Vel sets aside the code scrambler and waits.

“The system was designed and installed by Jens Donner, a systems specialist formerly employed by Generation Technologies. After ten years with the company, Donner founded his own enterprise, ZapTech. He is credited with revolutionizing the AI matrix that permits droids to maintain a facility without human direction.”

“He must’ve included a fail-safe,” I say thoughtfully. “How do techs get into the system to performance maintenance?”

After a moment, 245 responds, “I have found the answer to your inquiry in Mair Dahlgren’s partitioned files.”

Partitioned files?
What does that mean?

I frown as if she’ll respond to nonverbal cues. “I thought I had access to all data. Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“You did not ask.” Such a reasonable reply. “Shall I override Mair Dahlgren’s directive, Sirantha Jax?”

“Please.”

“Mair Dahlgren reports that entering this numerical sequence, interspersed with gaps of precisely 6.4 seconds, will gain you access to a maintenance submenu from which you may attempt to gain access to primary systems.”

Jael seems impatient, but if he has any better ideas, he’s free to pursue them. The merc shifts on the balls of his feet and casts a longing glance toward the lounge, as if imagining what the two women might be doing in there without him. Or maybe, like me, he’s fucking starving.

“Go,”
Vel says without looking at him. “I will watch over her.”

“For Mary’s sake. We’re in a secure hangar. What exactly do you think is going to happen to me?”

And then the boarding ramp on the ship begins to unfold.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 40

Jael flicks me a wry look. “You were saying?”

I have no fight left in me. No idea what I expect, but I’m braced for the worst when three men come strolling down the ramp. Even though they don’t look alike, the conformity of their garb gives the impression of a resemblance. They’re tall and slim, well coiffed, and their suits look like they cost a year’s pay.

Not government guys then.

One of them strides toward us, and the others fall in behind him. That makes him the boss, I guess. On closer inspection, he’s older than his fellows, but he’s had good antiaging treatments. I can see the years in his eyes rather than around them. His gaze roves over me like a shark, and I decide I don’t want to see his teeth. His men tuck their arms behind their backs and wait, as if for orders.

“Our employer sent us to collect you,” the leader says, as if this is a routine aircab pickup. “He requires a face-to-face.”

I can’t think of anything more eloquent than, “Huh?” so I go with it.

“What employer?” Jael demands. “Do you realize you’re attempting to detain the ambassador of New Terra?”

“Of course I do,” Boss Man replies.

I glance down at myself. Even my own mother wouldn’t recognize me, covered in Thermud. “How?”

“What?” The leader glances away from Jael to regard me with puzzlement.

“
How
do you know who I am?”

He ignores that for the moment. “I believe you’ve already made Mr. Jewel’s acquaintance, Ms. Jax.”

That doesn’t ring any bells until I notice his intent look, a calm demeanor concealing killer intent.
They’re Syndicate, of course.
I remember the jeweled brooch my mother wore, what seems like ages ago now.

Mr. Jewel. Very clever.

“What the hell have you done to my mother?”

I should’ve wondered about that long before now; I’m just not a dutiful daughter, I guess. I take a deep breath, steadying myself as best I can, though fatigue and hunger make it difficult to focus.

“That is, in fact, why we were sent to this backwater burg.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?”

That doesn’t track. How could anyone know we’d turn up here? Hell,
I
didn’t even know if we’d make it out of those tunnels intact.

The older one inclines his head. “In a manner of speaking. We’ve been tracking you since you surfaced.”

“Tracking?” I hate parroting everything he says, as it makes me sound brain damaged. Then again, it may be better if he underestimates me.

Behind us, Vel continues his attempts to get into the terminal until one of the goons steps up behind him and shakes his head. Vel sighs and puts away his tools slowly, as if wanting them to see his hands at all times. While they’re watching him, I slip 245 into my pack. It’s just a hunch, but I don’t want them taking her away.

Given that we’ve disarmed ourselves, there isn’t a lot we can do at the moment. Droids will intervene at the first sign of trouble, but it might be too late if these guys are good enough. And they have that air about them.

“Your mother was kind enough to slip an isotope into your drink at your last meeting,” the thug explains with a smile. “Perfectly stable and harmless, but it does permit us to monitor your movements.”

“Like Fugitive scientists once used to track native populations?” I sputter in pure outrage.

To these assholes, I’m just a blip on a display panel somewhere.
Oh, there’s Jax; let’s go scoop her up.
If I had a blade in my hand, I’d sink it in his eye right now and fuck the consequences.

“It’s perfectly harmless,” he repeats, like it’s a health risk I’m worried about. I guess he’s never had his privacy stolen like this. “I suggest you come aboard, so we can get under way at once. We will convey you safely to your meeting.”

“You actually believe I’m going with you? Are you out of your mind, or do you think I’m out of mine?”

One of his thugs takes a step forward as if he doesn’t like my tone, but Boss Man waves him off. “No, I think you lack viable alternatives, Ms. Jax. You don’t have a vessel. I do. And if you harbored any hope of commandeering it, know this crucial fact. I alone possess the ignition codes, and if they are not entered correctly within three tries, the whole ship goes up.”

I glance at Jael and Vel, who looks impassive. They offer no suggestions, though I can feel the merc thrumming with tension at my side. He’d like nothing more than to waste these fools, but that might strand us here indefinitely. I suspect he’s no keener than I am to rely on Tarn for our salvation.

But I’m not sure the Syndicate constitutes a wise substitute.

Fuck it. When have I ever been sensible? Even if the decision takes us to Mr. Jewel’s private playground, at least we’re off Lachion, right?

They must have a jumper on board, which means I can rest. I’ll eat choclaste, shoot myself full of the chemical cocktail that’s supposed to mend my bones, and try to ignore the junkie in my head. That voice tells me to jack into grimspace and frag the consequences. I have to ignore junkie Jax if I want to live.

BOOK: Wanderlust
5.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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