CHAPTER 35
The Exfora system didn’t have nearly the population of Hynex, but it made up for it in its sheer number of small colonies. Otie had given them each a path to follow and paired newer and more senior clones. In theory, that allowed them to maximize time for Otie to figure out how safe they’d be leaving the system, while also gathering information and accessing caches as needed to secure new covers, transport, and resources.
“She’s not stupid,” Talinn subvocalized, for not the first time. Bee ignored her, also not for the first time. Because it wasn’t remotely practical to load-in for every stop, Bee would spend much of her time in a portable server, and she had yet to find the proper way to make the full extent of her displeasure known.
“But she is mean,” Talinn continued, resolutely keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead so as not to accidentally make contact with Tiernan or his smug face.
“Are you muttering again, Newt?”
“There’s only one me out here now, you don’t need to keep calling me that.”
“But you respond so beautifully to it. Better than you do to Tal.”
Talinn bit hard on the inside of her cheek. Her midsection roiled, as it constantly did since they’d left Deep End. She itched every time she couldn’t tap comms for Caytil or Sammer or Arnod or Heka or any of her friends, twitched at the unceasing input of being surrounded by so many unadapted humans, fretted over the alarming number of things she couldn’t control, reached for a turret she didn’t have—that one was more Bee.
You’re feeling too much. It’s giving me a headache. It’d be better if we had a tank.
“A tank can’t take on a defense array.”
We’re on a planet full of empties, and a tank would clear our path to whatever stupid meeting place we have to go to.
“And be noticeable.”
“Are you ignoring me?” Tiernan gestured her ahead of him down a narrow alley, and for a wild moment she knew he was going to murder her. It stilled the unease in her stomach, brought her to a pinpoint focus, and then collapsed immediately back into worry and fear and disgust and uncertainty and a tiny sliver of joy to be out in the worlds that made it all worse—because of course Tiernan wasn’t going to kill her. He was going to continue to pretend to be cheerful and comment about her hind section and infuriate her because neither of them had found anything helpful. Neither of them had heard from Otie. Neither of them had a clear path to action, and neither of them, it turned out, was great in such a scenario.
“I’m reminding myself and others that blowing things up is not an effective solution to our current situation.” She couldn’t be sure what passive monitoring existed on their current station, and they’d wordlessly agreed to say nothing that could flag any central systems that rogue Eights were still in Exfora.
“It won’t get us off planet any faster, no. I wasn’t expecting the Pillar to be so crowded.” Tiernan stepped out to her side as they cleared the alley, taking them to the left down a wide street toward whatever point he had in mind. “Hops and I had just gone through on our way out-system, and there weren’t nearly that many refugees.”
“Staging ground for people flooding in-system from Govlic,” Talinn repeated dutifully, as though it were a quiz. Tiernan shrugged the shoulder close to her and didn’t respond until they’d passed a gaggle of unadapted humans in a riot of colors and gone through a tunnel under a cluster of absurdly tall buildings.
Could have benefitted from a good blowing up.
“You’re in a mood.”
I’m bored. What are we learning? Empties exist, in various forms, doing various things. We already knew that. Either we die approaching the jump point or we don’t. Otie and Bee have to know the answer by now.
“Is this where we’ll pick up word for our next stop?” Talinn couldn’t bring herself to ask if he was ignoring her. Frankly it would be better if he did. She had no one and nothing else to vent all her conflicting urges on, given fighting with Bee would be even less helpful than strangling Tiernan. Or wanting to strangle him—on her own, she would have been lost the moment their first stop denied their entry. The largest lunar colony of Tolnan had turned away all traffic that approached with the same intractable disregard as a defense array, and Tiernan had kept them in orbit for two days, observing and prattling about nothing rather than sharing his thoughts.
Talinn heard her own voice telling Otie that they wanted to go out and explore. She chewed harder on the torn skin on the inside of her mouth to keep from cringing at the memory. What would they have done? She couldn’t make sense of it now, and couldn’t entirely blame that on Tiernan.
“Maybe.” It took him so long to answer she missed a step and had to make an effort to rematch his pace. “We’re going to Blackheart’s. Hopefully we can get back on course from there.”
She glanced at him then, noted the tension in his jaw. Of course she wasn’t the only one worried about their people. Talinn made a noncommittal noise and considered forming some sort of vague apology, then he stopped short.
“Three crossings ahead, take the next left. You’ll see the sign.” Tiernan ducked down the next side alley and Talinn stood alone on a rock-lined walkway in civilian city for the first time in her existence.
Now we get to blow things up?
“Now we keep on task.” Talinn ignored Bee’s discordant noise, kept her head on a swivel, realized that might be suspicious, and shoved her hands in the pockets of her coverall. “I don’t like it either.”
We should have had the whole route, same as Tiernan. What happens if he doesn’t come back?
“We find our way back to a station, send a signal to the Pajeeran Fall, and hope for the best.”
The best would be better if I were in a tank.
She didn’t have an argument to that, and the rest of their walk remained silent and uneventful. The buildings had grown progressively shorter, and Blackheart’s was a sprawling edifice, two stories and taking up most of the next block. There were doors on either corner, so she aimed for the set directly on her path.
The doors didn’t open at her approach, and Bee didn’t offer that there was a code or a trick. Given Bee’s general air of unhelpfulness, Talinn didn’t prod her, and then a too-warm voice pitched from the side, “It’s a push.”
Tiernan. She didn’t roll her eyes, unsure if she were relieved or annoyed at his reappearance, but gestured him to go right ahead. He smirked at her, which was one of his three expressions, and shared nothing about his detour. Instead he reached out and pressed his hand to the door. Not on a panel, simply flat on the smooth edge of the door and it . . . pivoted open, into the much louder space inside.
Planets. She shrugged and walked past him when he continued to stand there, smirking, then kept walking because the space was more inviting than anything she’d ever seen. Low tables and chairs curved away from the door, leaving a clear path to the glowingly red-brown bar ahead. The lighting was subtle, tinted a soft blue from recessed corners, and a light melody brushed out of the sprawling plants that studded the areas between tables, making each one seem private without building tiny walls all over the place. Most of the tables were occupied, but the noise level was well below what she’d come to expect from groups of humans. Some measure of tension eased from her shoulders.
“Let’s sit at the bar,” Tiernan said, drawing even with her, his own posture loose. Before she could ask if he had good news—any news—a woman’s voice addressed them.
“Welcome to Blackheart’s.” She appeared after her voice, straightening from behind the bar, adjusting lenses over her eyes. “What can I get you?”
“We’re on Gillen for the first time.” Talinn slid onto one of the stools and met the other woman’s eyes, wondering if the lenses were some kind of interesting civilian technology. “What do you recommend?”
“What don’t I recommend.” She smiled, and it was the warmest smile Talinn had ever experienced from an unadapted human face. Even Jeena didn’t emote so expansively. Talinn caught herself smiling back before she’d made the decision to do so. “It’s my place, and I only stock my favorites. What’s your usual?”
Yes, Talinn. What’s your usual? Blue? Gray?
“She doesn’t get out much.” Tiernan dropped his elbows onto the bar and winked at the woman, and both she and Talinn wrinkled their noses. The woman behind the bar recovered first, beaming again as she refocused on Talinn.
“Fair enough. Travel isn’t as unrestricted as it used to be, I know.” She leaned down and pulled up three glasses without looking, producing a long-necked bottle with her other hand. As she continued speaking, she poured a deep red liquid into each glass—notably less in one, which she slid to Tiernan without a slip in her smile.
Fine. Maybe all empties aren’t boring. Bee dialed up Talinn’s sense of smell as the Blackheart’s owner sniffed her own glass, and Talinn followed suit. This will have a bite to it, she noted with a sense of anticipation.
“All the best things do,” Talinn subvocalized before toasting aloud, “New favorites.”
The other woman echoed it with an approving laugh, and Tiernan winked at one or both of them—Talinn really needed to tell him to find a new “blending with the unadapted” gesture—and they all drank. It did, indeed, have a bite, but also a rich flavor that flooded her mouth and made her want to tip the rest of the glass straight down her throat.
Probably not the best idea. Talinn wasn’t entirely sure if that was Bee reading her intentions or reacting to the taste. Instead of asking, she tilted her head toward the other woman.
“Clearly you have excellent taste. Have you been on Gillen long?”
“For that I’ll give you a discount on the refill.” She smiled again, then lifted a shoulder as she poured more into each glass—even Tiernan’s. “And yes, my grands’ parents were in the first settler ship through the jump point. Lived here all my life, minus some travel around the system when I was young.”
Talinn hadn’t thought the woman much different from her age, but she didn’t have any skill in judging the unadapted. “You still seem young enough to me. But not enough to travel anymore?”
“Well, for that, new favorite visitor, I’ll send my staff to help the rest of the crowd and stay to talk with you for a bit.” The woman swirled the vivid liquid in her glass, tilting it to catch the light above the bar. “I’m Rebekah.”
Talinn and Tiernan introduced themselves as Tal and Nando respectively, and Talinn managed not to laugh at Tiernan’s suddenly serious expression. Rebekah sipped her drink and came back around to answering Talinn’s question.
“Not that I’m too old for travel, but it’s the same for going out as it seems to be for folks coming in—getting to be too much effort for the result. New checkpoints every time you turn around, and rumor has it IDC is after more than the mines down system on Oxillide.”
Talinn hadn’t heard of Oxillide, or of IDC having much of a foothold in Exfora beyond those few stations Falix had shown them, what seemed like eighty cycles ago. “I hadn’t noticed it, but we mostly go from one station to the other.” Not entirely an untruth. “Maybe planets are a little different?”
“More room for IDC to slip in, I guess, and less likely the fighting will hit the jump point.”
“The defense arrays, though?” Talinn widened her eyes, trying for naïve new girl and getting an elbow in the ribs from Tiernan for her effort.
“More directed up system—Zimil, Duray, Erkine are all more heavily settled, with their rings and lunar outposts.” Rebekah lifted a shoulder, then motioned for them to wait and stepped aside to talk to another woman who’d stepped behind the bar.
“What are you doing?” Tiernan’s voice pitched low, but his smile remained careless.
“Learning, like I’m supposed to. Isn’t that meant to be helpful?”
“We have to be careful.”
“Well, I am, so unless you have new—shoes like you’re supposed to pick up . . .” Talinn trailed off, having neatly changed subjects—if she said so herself—to something innocuous as Rebekah finished her conversation and turned back toward them.
“Huh. I always thought of the planets as being so much better defended,” Talinn continued brightly, as though they hadn’t been interrupted.
“Some are. And some are staging grounds for the United Colonial Forces to show how they can keep us safe, or the Interstellar Defense Corps to show how their version of control is better.” Rebekah lifted both hands, as though warding it all away, and picked up her glass again. “But you know all that better than me—stations have it worse, having to ration when in-system shipping gets disrupted. Gillen’s been around long enough we have space for most things, and can power through until the ships come again. And that’s not why you came to Blackheart’s at all, is it? You’re here to have fun, not listen to me ramble about politics.”
“I—”
“You’re completely right, Rebekah.” Tiernan’s voice dripped warmth, but at least he didn’t wink again. “Let’s taste our way through your favorite liquors and have a good time.”
Talinn couldn’t figure out a subtle way to kick him hard in the shin, so she smiled and drank and ignored the churn in her gut as Bee remained silent.
What have we learned. Bee did not wait for an answer as Talinn tried to find her way back to the designated route to meet Tiernan on the muddy side streets of Duray’s largest moon. Empties everywhere are restless. IDC is definitely coming in hot. Or isn’t. UCF is a pain in the sewage hole. Except when it isn’t. Gillen’s crushed fruit goes rotten better than the mixed vegetables of any orbital ring.
“Fermented,” Talinn muttered, squinting up at yet another unmarked building made of slightly more solid mud than the street. She shrugged and turned down an alley, knowing she had to get further into the center of the struggling town to catch up with Tiernan. He’d remained blithe and infuriatingly close-lipped about news, and each time he left her on her own, she wasn’t sure if he’d come back.
This is getting messier, and Kay hasn’t been any more helpful than Tiernan. Do we even have to burn it all down? Seems like empties’ society is already fraying around the edges.
“It’s already a show of shit. What’ll we leave behind if we get out of this, and are ever able to take out Command?”
Those are two big ifs. Why under all the skies in the ever-expanding multidimensions of space are you worried about Command still? We take our Eights, we get away, we steal clones, whatever, but the war? We’re out.
“You wanted to burn it all down too.”
Before the bonzo defense arrays got involved. Have we found out anything about them in all this running around? No. We’ve just followed directions and been out of a tank too long. For what?
Talinn hesitated, processing her surroundings, but the narrow alley contained only mud, heaps of mud, a small box, the drier mud of the buildings on either side, and—
“Maybe we should—”
You should—
Talinn snapped her hand down, closed her fingers around a wrist, swiveled, and pulled the new body close so it rode on her hip as she spun, shoving it against the wall of the building on her left.
“Oh no no sorry, just passing through.” The figure—a woman around Talinn’s own age, if she were reading the face right under all that flappy hair—straightened and focused on Talinn’s chin.
“Through my pocket?”
Don’t engage. Punch her and let’s get moving. She probably came through the mud wall. The longer you talk to her, the more likely she’ll drag you in there after her. I don’t want to live in mud.
The woman tried to twist her arm free, failed, and went completely boneless. Talinn didn’t let go, but she shifted forward to compensate, then sprang backward as the woman tensed. Eights didn’t do much hand-to-hand in the field, but they were trained for it, and her additional processing power gave her quicker reaction time—or maybe that was an edge from Bee dumping a tank-sized amount of adrenaline into her system and blaring an alarm in her head.
Their scuffle didn’t last long—Talinn held the other woman back with more ease than she’d expected, despite the woman swinging a knife at her, and Bee asked, What’s the end game here? exactly as the woman’s gaze fastened somewhere around Talinn’s ear.
Shit.
Talinn reached her free hand to her wig, which had held on admirably during the unexpected movement, but had shifted exactly enough to reveal the bottom of her port. The woman’s eyes went wide, panic and some mix of emotions too much for Talinn to parse rippling across her face.
But her mouth stretched open like she was going to scream something and Bee pushed and Talinn knew the only thing she could do to keep from ruining everything. One hand slammed against the woman’s mouth, the other twisted the weapon out of the woman’s hand.
Talinn was as fast with the knife as she was with any calculation, and no one else was in the alley.
No one else was living in the alley once Talinn stepped out of it, either. She didn’t shake.
You had to.
“Their lives are miserable.”
The empty won’t be miserable now, and you won’t get found.
“It’s not that.”
It’s Tiernan’s fault. I’m going to break into Kay’s channel and make them tell us—
“Bee. It’s not that.”
“Newt, of all the—where were you?” Tiernan matched her pace, gave her a once over, and grabbed her arm. “What happened?”
She didn’t shake, but her hands ached as though the small bones wanted to vibrate out of her skin. Possibly Bee had overmodulated the chemicals in her brain. “Later. Do you have it?” Contact. News. Anything to bring them back to their people. Away from here.
“I know where we need to go next. I followed up on what Rebekah Black told us on Gillen—something odd is happening on Oxillide, and I think we need to know more before we find Otie.”
Talinn swallowed, her saliva unaccountably bitter. Despite the ever-present threat of the defense arrays, not knowing where her friends were, not being sure what they needed to do next, she’d enjoyed their prolonged trip. Seeing the worlds, understanding what was out there—it was what she’d wanted. Not the way she wanted, no, but at least partially good. Partially right. Partially helpful.
Now she nodded blankly as Tiernan spoke, matched her steps to his, and processed none of what she saw. But she didn’t shake. She was fine.
All right, that’s enough. I’m sick of being in a box. Next place we go, you’re putting me in something. It’s time to be a weapon again.