CHAPTER 39
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.
