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CHAPTER TEN

“Lost a lot of blood,” said Adelmar, reading Pera’s vital signs from her suit. With Utsuro’s help they had gotten her onto an examination bed, lying on her left side with the stump of her severed leg easily accessible. The end of her right leg was covered by a white sheet of smart bandage, which also displayed her vitals and listed what treatments it was administering.

“She left about five liters on the ground,” said Daslakh. “I don’t know why she’s still conscious.”

“That bandage is giving her stims and painkillers. It should keep her stable. She needs a lot of fluids right away,” said the stranger. His suit had changed shape and color inside the medical center, so that he now looked like a boulevardier from one of Juren’s million cities, in a stylish maroon velvet tunic over midnight-blue trousers and a high-collared canary-yellow shirt. The cowl of his suit had turned transparent, revealing a pleasant but absolutely ordinary face and a head covered with black stubble.

“Who are you?” asked Jaka.

“Okada. Sabbath Okada. And you are Jaka Balavan, lately of Scapino habitat. You have at least three other names, but never mind about them,” he said. Then he turned in place, jabbing a finger at each person in turn as spoke. “No need for introductions. We have here: Tanaca Mamua, Atmin of lineage 8504-RC, Anton Identity Cancelled, Utsuro, Solana Sina, and Adelmar de Malapert. Our patient is Pera Stodesyat. The only one I can’t identify is you,” he said to Daslakh.

“Good,” it replied. “Now tell us how you got here and why.”

“I’m here to save your lives. There’s a combat mech in this hab. It’s damaged and quite likely insane, but it’s still very dangerous. You need to leave at once.”

“Do tell us first how Pera’s leg was severed from her hip, and how you came to bring her here,” said Atmin.

“A booby trap at the house where Ulan died,” said Daslakh. “A loop of monofilament stuck vertically to the walls, floor, and ceiling. When she passed through it, the loop pulled tight. Don’t know what the trigger was. Pera ducked aside so it didn’t cut her completely in half, but it got her leg. Mr. Fancy Suit came in a second later and got that smart bandage on her before she could bleed out.”

“And since Daslakh is too small to support Pera’s weight, I had to use my fancy suit to help her get back here,” said the stranger.

“Very convenient, you being close by when the trap went off. Especially since it wasn’t there earlier,” said Jaka. As she spoke she moved to her left. Adelmar went the other way and flopped into a chair behind Sabbath.

“Did I mention the combat mech? I thought I heard myself say those words. It set those traps. At first they were crude, because when you got here the mech was barely functional, maybe even sub-baseline. But while you’ve been poking around looking for junk to sell, it’s been repairing itself, getting stronger, smarter—more deadly.”

Anton felt a little spark of hope. This Sabbath Okada—or whatever his name was—didn’t seem afraid of Jaka, or confused by her. He looked free. Anton hadn’t seen that in a while. Even the crooks and pirates in Scapino had been bound in webs of fear and desperation.

Jaka didn’t show it, but Anton knew she was feeling a touch of new fear herself: the fear of losing control. She might have a remote-control for Anton’s brain, and have Solana enslaved by her genome, but Adelmar and Daslakh and the others could turn against her in an instant. Only fear and distrust kept them in line, and Jaka had to work constantly to maintain those feelings.

She raised one golden-haired eyebrow. “It’s a plausible story, but I can think of one just as good: you, Mister Sabbath Okada, are the one who’s been skulking in the dark, laying traps and trying to scare us off. You want all the loot of this station for yourself. Maybe you didn’t intend to hurt anyone, but now Pera’s lost a leg and you had to reveal yourself. So you come up with a bogeyman story. I’m not going to buy it without proof.”

“How can I persuade you I’m telling the truth? Time is short.”

“Daslakh? What can you tell me? Is he lying?”

“I don’t know. He’s got absolutely perfect autonomic control. Pulse and respiration are rock-steady, pupils haven’t changed size at all since he came inside, and his suit is regulating his temperature.”

“I had a rather repressive upbringing, I’m afraid,” said Sabbath. “I blame society.”

“So you’re stuck with using your own intelligence and judgment,” said Daslakh to Jaka. “Sorry.”

“Well,” said Jaka, “I’d be more inclined to trust you if you weren’t standing there in a suit of smart-matter combat armor.”

Sabbath looked more amused than anything else, and Anton could tell that was getting on Jaka’s nerves. “All right,” he said. “If that’s what it takes to convince you.”

He stood a little straighter and held his arms out from his sides. The suit flowed off of him, forming itself into a little bundle between his feet. It left him nude, but he didn’t seem to mind. His physique was flawless, unlike anything Anton had ever seen. The guards back at Fratecea and some of the pirates at Scapino had been bulky with muscle, but none of them had Sabbath’s effortless grace. The only person who compared to him physically, Anton realized, was Solana.

“Satisfied? Or were you just hoping for the chance to ogle?”

Jaka and Adelmar moved simultaneously. The chimp propelled himself out of the chair with one shove of his powerful arms, and grabbed Sabbath from behind. Jaka dove at his feet, grabbing the suit and rolling into his legs. Sabbath tumbled forward and landed with Adelmar on top of him, pinning his arms in a full-nelson grip.

Jaka tossed the suit bundle to Tanaca. “Put this in the freezer and lock it. Anton: get the restraints out of my bag and stick them to the wall in that exam room. We’ll secure him there.” She stood up, looking pleased with herself, and pointed at the minimissile pods on her arms. “Try anything and I’ll blow you to bits.”

“You are making a tremendous mistake,” said Sabbath, not resisting as Adelmar half-carried him to the exam room. “I am not your enemy. You’re all in terrible danger!”

Anton grabbed Jaka’s bag and found the restraints: simple strips of flexible smart metal. He followed Adelmar into the exam room. The chimp slammed Sabbath against the wall and held his left arm out. Anton sighed and pressed a restraint strip against Sabbath’s wrist. The smart metal stuck to the wall and contracted to hold the man’s hand securely.

“This isn’t going to help. Don’t do this!” said Sabbath.

“Sorry,” Anton muttered as he got a strip onto his ankle, then a second onto the other leg.

With a final restraint on Sabbath’s right arm Adelmar could let go. Their prisoner stood against the wall, wrists and ankles pinned. Despite being naked and bound, he looked more annoyed and impatient than afraid. “Why do you even listen to her? What is imprisoning me going to accomplish?”

“No more traps,” said Adelmar. “No more ambushes.”

“That’s all wrong. The mech is still out there. You’re all in danger and you need me.”

The chimp pressed one forefinger to Sabbath’s lips and then took a step back. Then he slammed one massive fist into the prisoner’s belly. Sabbath jerked forward, gasping, then hung from his restraints.

“For Ulan. A shit, but you shouldn’t have cut him. Keep quiet or get hit again.”

Anton made sure Sabbath was breathing, then followed Adelmar into the atrium. The chimp gave Jaka a thumbs-up.

“Great! Now that our mystery stalker is locked up there’s no more danger. We can decide what to do with him later. Yanai! Do you recognize his name?”

“It’s not in my personal memory. I can send out an autonomous message to search for it.”

“Good idea. We can check his genome, too. That name sounds fake to me.”

“You should know,” Daslakh muttered.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said that even if this guy did kill Ulan, we aren’t totally safe. No telling how many traps are out there.”

“Very good point,” said Jaka. “He’s still dangerous even if he’s restrained. See if you can get anything from his suit.”

“I know some tricks.” The little mech scuttled off to the kitchen and inserted one limb into the freezer. But just a couple of seconds later it snatched its limb out and turned bright hazard red. “That thing is just crawling with defenses,” it said. “Soon as I tried to link up it started sending nasty little attack programs my way. Very advanced stuff. If I wasn’t so old and cunning I’d be overwritten by now. All of you: don’t make any contact with it if you don’t want your implant hardware going dark or trying to kill you. Probably should avoid linking with him, as well.”

“And now it’s time for everyone who doubted me to apologize,” said Jaka. She really did love to twist the knife, Anton thought.

After a moment of silence Atmin spoke up. “Your tricking him was neatly done. If truly he is false then we are in your debt. But if his words were true—”

“They’re not. It all fits. That suit’s as strong as Utsuro, and could easily make a blade. You saw how it frightened Daslakh. This Sabbath person is obviously the one who killed Ulan, and probably set the traps as well. Some of them, anyway.”

“How did he get here, and why?” asked Utsuro.

“How? Good question. Some kind of little stealthy boat launched on an intercept from Jupiter’s main ring. Low emissions, cold thrust. That’s how I’d do it,” said Jaka. “And why? I still think he was trying to scare us away to get the best loot for himself. But it’s equally possible he’s some kind of psycho murderer. Did you say something?”

“Not me,” said Daslakh. “I’m too scared, remember?”

“What are we to do with the poor fellow?” said Utsuro. “Even if he is as you say, it would be inhumane to abandon him when we leave.”

“You want him, take him,” said Adelmar. “Plenty room on Yanai.”

“I will gladly take him to the synchronous ring,” said the ship. “Utsuro, can you get me a gene scan? It might tell us more about who he is.”

“Anton, help him,” said Jaka, with a surprisingly serious look. He wasn’t sure how he could help the cyborg use a built-in scanner, but he followed Utsuro into the exam room.

Within, Sabbath stood upright again, looking relaxed and mildly curious despite the enormous bruise already forming on his abdomen. “I’ve decided to confess,” he said. “I’m actually an interplanetary assassin with the death sentence on me in a dozen different jurisdictions. I’ve got a special offer for you: give me back my suit and I’ll take out that woman for free.”

Utsuro ran his gene scanner over the man, and then after a moment did it again. “Who are you, really?” he asked. “I would very much like to know.”

“I told you. Sabbath Okada. Can I rely on your discretion?”

“Yes,” said Utsuro.

“No,” said Anton. “Jaka controls my implant. I’ll tell her anything she asks. That’s why I’m here.”

“I begin to see,” said Sabbath. “You, and a Qarina who’ll obey anyone—what about the other woman and the chimp? What’s she got on them?”

“Tanaca…I can’t tell if she’s terrified of Jaka or if she’s in love with her. Maybe both at the same time. Adelmar’s just in it for the money.”

“She certainly has no hold on me, nor on Atmin or Pera,” said Utsuro. “But these results are—”

“Yes, they are,” said Sabbath. “If you let me go perhaps I can explain in more detail. Privately.”

The cyborg took a step back. “I’m not sure if I trust you.”

“Link up, then? My comms are secure.”

“No,” said Utsuro. “Not at present. According to the mech your suit has very aggressive countermeasures. You might have something similar in your head. I cannot afford having my own systems corrupted.”

“Is there any way I can get you to trust me?”

“Perhaps if you reveal your true identity.”

“I did that already, twice. I’m Sabbath Okada, professional killer. Really.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t help.”

“Well, if you want to chat stop in any time. I’ll be here.” He still looked amused as Anton followed Utsuro out of the room.

Jaka set up a roster of guards to watch the prisoner. “Two people here, the other six gathering goodies outside. We’ll keep working in pairs in case there are more traps. I’ll take the first shift, with Adelmar. The rest of you, get back out there and find something worth our time.”

Anton was paired with the corvid Atmin, Solana with Daslakh, and Tanaca accompanied Utsuro. It did not escape Anton’s notice that the two best-armed members of the group were safe inside the medical center. Despite Jaka’s boasts, he suspected she was still afraid of something in the dark.

He followed the bird along the main avenue. For safety Atmin trailed a line below his flying travel sphere. Anton watched the hanging thread, fluorescent blue in the light from his helmet lamps, alert for any sign of a snare or tripwire. After a few blocks Atmin spoke. “Good Anton, tell me what you think of our new guest. Do you believe he slew Ulan? I am not sure.”

“That’s what Jaka thinks.”

“And are you but a puppet on her hand? I want your thoughts, not hers.”

“I don’t think we know everything. Why would he kill Ulan but save Pera? It doesn’t make sense. He’s keeping something secret, though,” said Anton.

“A single man who came by stealth could not remove much loot. He either came in search of some specific thing…or is not here for that at all.”

“But why would he come here, then?” Anton protested. “And why now? The hab’s been derelict for years. Plenty of time to get something, if he knew what he was after.”

“Why now is obvious: Yanai has stabilized the spin of Safdaghar. Without her work it would be near impossible to dock or move around within the tumbling wreck. But what he seeks is not as clear. It seems to me the only things within doomed Safdaghar to draw attention now would be ourselves.”

“He’s going to be disappointed, then. None of us are worth much. Except maybe Solana.”

The bird didn’t appear to catch his hint. “That is not the thing I mean. I do not think this Sabbath wants us, not at all. Instead it strikes me that he may be here to stop us doing something that he does not wish to see occur.”

“That sounds a lot like Jaka’s idea, that he’s trying to scare us off.”

“A mystery, I do admit. I cannot work it out.”

Their abbreviated search shift turned up some nice items: an actual bound printed paper book, which had escaped the all-pervasive mold by virtue of being sealed in film; a set of gold medallions from Psyche; and a set of little porcelain bots which performed erotic dances when Atmin opened their box.

All that was about as much as Anton could comfortably carry, so the two of them turned back toward the clinic, with Atmin leading the way once again. To get back to the main road the bird chose a diagonal route via courtyards and alleys, through a section already searched.

As they went through one courtyard where an elaborate water garden had been churned into muddy ice fragments, Atmin switched his travel sphere to hover mode and paused. “I thought I heard a noise. Did you?”

Anton stopped and listened. Yes, there it was, a faint staccato tapping sound coming from his left. “Over there.” He turned and let his helmet lights shine on the house making up that side of the courtyard. It was two stories, and the walls on this side were made up of sliding panels, mostly open. The light shining into the rooms made odd shadows behind the jumbled broken furniture.

“Look there!” said Atmin, and aimed his own spotlight at a room on the second floor. At first Anton could see nothing—but then what looked like a shadow suddenly moved. It reached the edge of the balcony in an eyeblink, its many limbs drumming arrhythmically on the floor as it moved.

In the glare of two sets of lights the thing was still pure black. Anton’s eyes couldn’t make sense of it: he saw limbs, lenses, wires, assorted boxes and spheres of various sizes, all jumbled together with no symmetry or plan.

Curiosity gave way to panic. Here was Sabbath’s killer mech, a dark nightmare come alive. Anton dropped the stack he was holding and ran for the alley. Atmin made a heroic dive at the thing to distract it, swooping his travel sphere within a couple of meters of it before veering off after Anton.

The mechanical shadow remained immobile for an instant, then leaped down from the balcony and pattered after Anton. Its sharp feet made chips of ice fly as it crossed the frozen pond.

Inside his head Anton could hear Atmin putting out a general alarm on comms. “Alert! A black machine with bladed limbs is chasing us and looks to be a foe. We are six hundred meters from the camp, to south and spinward, running fast. Please help! We are unarmed.”

Anton ran harder than he had ever run before. His antique suit felt like a sheath of lead. The air in his helmet felt hot and damp as his breathing overwhelmed the filter system. When the visor started to fog he fumbled at the latch and got it open, sucking lungfuls of cold musty air, ignoring the bitter gritty dust.

Behind him the rapid arrhythmic tapping of the machine’s feet got steadily louder.

Atmin dragged a decorative rug off a rooftop terrace, so that it fell onto the machine. For a moment it flailed about while Anton ran even harder and got around a corner, out of sight. He heard cloth rip and then the irregular footsteps again.

Now he was on a lateral street, heading for the main avenue that circled the habitat ring. Over the comm channel he could hear half a dozen voices asking questions and giving orders, but Anton couldn’t spare the attention—or the breath—to speak at all.

He looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see it. Atmin’s travel sphere floated above him. “Wh—where?” he gasped out.

“I do not see the shadowed foe. It may have run away.”

Anton skidded around the corner onto the avenue, fell, rolled, and scrambled to his feet again. He could see the lights of the clinic ahead, just a couple of hundred meters. Almost there…

And then the black machine emerged from a building to his left, just a few meters away, too close to escape. It sliced the air with a couple of bladed limbs. He swerved aside, hoping to get around it, but the machine got directly in front of him. Anton tried a sudden change of direction but his heavy suit tripped him up and he stumbled.

“Down! Down!” came over the comm. He couldn’t tell who was speaking but he dove for the ground, rolling sideways as a blade raked the pavement, sending up a shower of chips. He saw an upraised blade silhouetted against the lit face of a building, ready to impale him.

Then the shadow machine twitched and jerked as a stream of needles struck it. Its black surface bloomed with lines of tiny orange specks marking each hit. Then four minimissiles hit home at once and exploded, blasting the thing apart in a shower of parts.

Anton sat on the pavement, gently probing his face for cuts. His ears felt as if they were full of water, so that he couldn’t make out what Atmin was saying to him until the bird switched back to the comm channel.

“Did any harm befall you? Can you walk?”

“I think so.” He got cautiously to his feet. After that run his muscles were already feeling sore, and his knees gave off sharp pains when he put his weight on them. He coughed and got a mouthful of dusty phlegm, and spat on the ground.

The others began to gather around. Daslakh crawled about the wreck of the black machine, poking and probing with its limbs. Solana came over to Anton and helped him up.

“Hold still,” she said, and reached for his face. She pulled a splinter of graphene out of his cheek, just a centimeter below his left eye. He hadn’t noticed.

Jaka, of course, was practically incandescent. “Killer mech status: fragged! Whatever comes along, we can deal with it.” She bent over the wreckage and picked up what looked like a sensor cluster. Three of its five lenses were cracked. “Not so tough now, are you?” she asked it.

The biologicals headed back to the clinic building, although Daslakh stayed behind with the ruined machine.

When Anton cycled through the emergency airlock the rest were already crowding into the exam room where their prisoner was shackled to the wall. Jaka stood before him, brandishing the smashed sensor cluster. “We got your killer mech. Adelmar hosed it with needles and I gave it a full barrage of missiles. Boom! No more mech! What do you think about that, Mr. Sabbath Okada? Still afraid of the big bad machine?”

The man pinned to the wall wasn’t looking at Jaka. Instead his eyes were on the broken sensor cluster, and his face wore an expression of extreme puzzlement. When she finished gloating he finally looked up. “Very well done, but there’s one little problem: you’ve killed the wrong mech.”

For a moment nobody said anything. Even Jaka was silent.

“Have any of you actually seen a modern, high-end combat mech?” Sabbath continued. “Not security mechs or mercenaries from some matter-harvesting hab—I’m talking about the kind of weapon system you’d see Juren or Luna deploy.”

“Saw one once,” said Adelmar. “In the test area at Poincare. Me and a friend snuck in looking for weapons or scrap. Hid behind a boulder, absolutely ambient cold. The rock turned into a giant, looked just like my friend’s uncle. Didn’t say anything, just pointed at the rim. We ran.”

“A top-quality combat mech is just a big blob of smart matter,” said Sabbath. “It can take any shape it needs to.” He jerked his chin at the broken piece in Jaka’s hand. “Certainly not a collection of spare parts like that.”

Daslakh strolled into the room on the ceiling. “I’m afraid he’s right,” it said. “That thing you shot up was just a bot, barely autonomous. Its main processor was from a cleaner. Calling it a mech is an insult to digital intelligences everywhere and I demand compensation.”

Jaka tossed away the sensor cluster. “Okay, if it’s just a bot with a salvaged brain—who made it? Who told it to attack Anton?”

“I told you,” said Sabbath. “The real combat mech that’s still out there somewhere. It put that thing together out of scrap.”

“Ha! If this mech is so advanced, why would it want to build a clumsy scrap bot? Tell me that!”

“Maybe as a probe,” said Sabbath. “To get a sense of what weapons we have at our disposal.”

“I can think of another reason,” said Daslakh. “Adelmar, how much is left in that needle rifle?”

“Magazine’s at ten percent,” said the chimp.

“And Jaka used up four explosive minimissiles. How many do you have left?”

“Enough to mess up anyone who tries anything,” she said.

“Your mech’s got a point,” said Sabbath.

“I’m not her mech, I’m my mech,” said Daslakh.

“I humbly beg your pardon.”

By that point Anton’s appetite for bickering was more than satisfied. He hurt all over and wanted above all things not to hear Jaka’s voice. When all eyes were on Sabbath he slipped out of the exam room and over to the office, hoping for some quiet.

But when he opened the door he found Solana already there. She couldn’t quite hide the look of despair when she saw him, although her expression quickly changed to cheerful attention. It didn’t look creepy at all.

“Turn around,” he told her. She spun slowly, raising her arms and stretching to display herself. “No, no,” he said quickly. “I mean face away from me. Does that help?”

“Yes,” she said after a pause. “What do you want from me?”

He glanced over his shoulder, but all the others were still arguing loudly in the exam room. “We have the same problem. Why don’t we help each other?”

“No one can help me.” Her voice was flat, stating a fact.

Anton took the little doodle sheet and stylus out of his pocket. Keeping his eyes aimed at the ceiling he scrawled, IMPLANT SEES AND HEARS WHAT I DO, ALSO COMMS. CAN YOU DISABLE? He hoped his blind writing was legible.

“I like to do microtech work,” she said after reading it. “I’m pretty good at it, too. Especially when I’ve got my goggles on. I really wish I still had them—I’m looking forward to doing more tech work in the future.” A little of the deadness in her voice went away.

“I’m sure you’ll get them back,” he said, and wrote: WHERE ARE THEY?

“They have an image filter,” she said. “Faces look like blank ovals. Now that Jaka’s got the goggles safe in her hip pouch, I can see faces again.”

“Did you ever miss seeing them?”

“Well, it meant I couldn’t do any cybernetics work. Can’t work on a human if all you see is a big blue triangle or something. I’ve never worked on mechanical limbs, or implants, or anything like that. Just machines.”

“Do you think you could do that if you tried?”

“I’ve never worked on a living person before. I’d be terrified of doing something wrong. What if they start bleeding? What do I do?”

“I’m sure you can think of something,” he said, and wrote: FILL HOLE WITH MED FOAM AND TAPE OVER. WILL RISK IT.

“You know,” she said, sounding very dismal, “when I look at someone, like you or Jaka or even Ulan, that person is the most important thing in the world at that moment. I’ll do anything to please them. No one else matters.”

“I’ve never understood why anyone would want a Qarina,” he said. “If you want a partner who can’t say no, why not get a sekkurobo and have done with it?”

“We don’t just obey our masters. We love them. We want to please, and we can do that on multiple levels. When I see Jaka again I’ll want to make her happy, whatever that takes.”

In other words, she might reveal the plan. “You must be very good at that.” He scribbled: KEEP HER TOO BUSY TO ASK. “How do you spend your time when she’s not around?”

“When I’m out working, I’m working. Usually I’m paired with one of her crew. She keeps me close when we’re in the building, especially when it’s sleep shift. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Both of them were all too familiar with Jaka’s tendency to wake up at least once per shift and demand “stress relief” to help her get back to sleep. “Sometimes I just want to go back to being a Qarina all the time. Let other people make all the decisions.”

“I know what you mean. I’m fighting a losing battle against this implant. Every day it gets easier to just go along and do as I’m told. I’m starting to want to obey her.”

“Just like a Qarina. Tell me, Anton: why don’t you simply order me to do what you want?” She turned around and looked into his eyes. “Come on, you know I’ll obey you.” As she spoke her voice and her expression softened. She no longer sounded bitter and sardonic, but sincere. “I want to serve you any way I can,” she said, and he could tell that she meant it—for the moment, anyway.

Anton became aware of a sound outside. One of the others? It wouldn’t do to be found conspiring with Solana. He shifted his hand to the back of her neck as he lightly touched his closed lips to hers. His other hand went around her waist, barely touching. He felt her lips trying to kiss him back, and her body pressed against his. It felt perfectly natural, perfectly real. It would be so easy…but he rejected the thought.

“Hey,” said Daslakh. “If I can interrupt your dubiously consensual sex activity for a minute, the other biologicals want you to get to work in the kitchen.”

When Anton turned to follow the mech he didn’t have to pretend to be embarrassed and flustered. In the instant before he looked away from her he saw Solana smiling at him, but he couldn’t tell if it was real or not.


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