Corcey knew something was wrong the moment he got off the lift and didn’t hear the muffled music of the Ærikson’s ocean. He approached the entrance, eyeing it suspiciously.
The doors had a shimmering blue selectiscreen over them. Beyond, he could hear the sounds of carpentry, construction, and ominous conversation. Yellow sonic signs floated in the field, announcing CRIME SCENE — DO NOT PASS both visually and audialy if touched. Corcey chose not to disturb the barrier, but probed beyond with his ears.
Snipplets of dialogue just inside the door: “…lot cheaper and faster to repair than reorder...”
“...I realize you’re attached to the bar, but it’s still crime scene evidence…”
“...we’re getting good signatures off the blast…”
He decided it prudent to leave the scene immediately: he sensed too many badges in sleuth mode on the other side of the light. Walking quickly, he made his way back to the elevators.
To say the least, Corcey was disappointed: he had been primed for another confrontation with Jae. No polite kid gloves this time; this called for the Hamaddi copper gauntlet.
He’d planned to see Chip anyway, but now he had two sets of questions to ask about.
The bioborg was still working the help desk, but was the second symptom of change at MidbiM. He had shaved the top of his blonde head to accommodate a new piece of hardware. Attachments and antennae made it look crown-like, a green qrystal receptor shown where the pineal eye should have been. He sat behind the help desk in a flowing red robe fit for an Etam crime lord. His right hand was playing with an oversized letter-opener.
He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat who had just eaten the Jub-Jub Bird.
“Hello, again, Agent Thade!” he said, a little too cheerfully, and added “We were wondering how long it would take you to come back.”
Corcey smiled politely at this. He noticed Chip still had fresh surgical scars, several of which were as red as his robe. His left hand was partly covered with silicone scales. “See you’ve had your next upgrade. Looks nice; very regal.”
“Thanks, but the grafts aren’t taking. I’ll have ’em look at it when I go in for next month’s installment.”
Cybernetic symbiosis is addictive: the more you have, the more you need. Long-time users got refitted every week, and in the end spend all their time in surgery. The user dies when he/she/it runs out of original body parts, which closes the interface and deletes the symbiot from the system. This was known as ‘Rapturing.’ The Chain’s Holy Grail was staying on the Chain after Rapture. Of the five hundred raptures on Chip’s specific Chain, only 20 had “made it.”
Chip lowered his voice slightly as he anxiously but coyly said “But how about you? Still stalking Sophia, we see.”
“Actually, I’m tracking two people now.”
“Expanding your scope!” said Chip, pleased. “Glad to hear it. Of course, if you’d expand your search parameters, you wouldn’t have to come to us...” He smiled sweetly, and ran long fingers over the rim of his crown.
“That reminds me,” said Corcey, “a Bug and a Borg walk into a bar...”
Chip chopped him off. “...I’m a bit rusty?”
“Well,,, yes.”
Disdainfully, Chip sneered “Heard it, seen it, smelled it, got the download. That’s Pre-Cambrian, man.”
“Oh; sorry. Just heard it, m’self. I am a bit behind the times.”
Chip was smiling a little more broadly than he should have been able too.
“So how can we help you this time?”
“Well, I noticed the Ærikson’s was shut down. Too bad: best water in the Wilderness.”
Chip managed to grin even more, exposing his back teeth. They were all stainless steel implants.
“We knew you’d ask about that.”
“Okay, then what’s my next question?”
“Where’s Jae.”
Corcey was impressed. “You’re good.”
“He’s dead.”
...drip...
Chip observed Corcey’s reaction carefully. Something about Corcey was causing feedback that his eye implants couldn’t quite filter out. As a subroutine, he began scanning spectrums for a clearer image.
“The Ærikson got hit. Only a few hours after we saw you, actually. Surgical strike: two people in black walked right in and opened fire on Jae and Æleƒ. According to Qrystyn the albino bar ho, it was a tall, thin man and a short, plump woman.” His leer veered wider as he admitted, “no one got a look at their faces: they were wearing shadowhoods. Most witnesses agreed they spoke in a language they did not understand or recognize.”
Corcey waited for him to continue, was finally forced to prompt, “So what happened?”
“The man in black took out the two tenders, but left Val alone. The woman froze the qomputer with an ice virus. If they robbed the qomputer, police won’t know it until it thaws out. Place was full of hard qash, but they left that alone. Anyone’s guess if they ran out of time before they could really rob the place, or they were just there to nail Æleƒ or Jae.”
“You don’t seem too sad that they lost Æleƒ.”
“You don’t seem too sad that they lost Jae, but no, I never liked ol’ boy too much. Most of us didn’t.” Chip laughed; it sounded meqanically hollow. “It took 20 seconds to kill Jae, five hundred to get Æleƒ.”
“Oh, he put up a good fight?”
Chip grinned. “Well, not as such. They took him out with a tazer; we
heard he just laid on the ground, spazzing from the frequency grounding until
someone shut him off.” He smiled
condescendingly. “Turned his motherboard to slush, and they had to scrap him
for spare parts. Owner’s pissed, too: it’ll take Saladrin
Synthetyx at least a month to custom-build another. Those old
“Surprised you haven’t found a linq to it.”
“They’re still thawing out the Ærikson’s qomputer, but we’ve sneaked peeks at the police reports. That’s how i know Æleƒ was tazered only because he got in the way of killing Jae.”
Corcey continued to look at Chip. Chip continued to look for a pleasant spectrum through which to study Corcey’s reactions. In infra-red Corcey was corpse-cold with a bright-red halo of someone sunburning at the beach. The barb-wire braid was white hot, and painful to look at directly.
“Jae’s an interesting fellow,” Chip continued. “Did you know that he served time with your friend?” Then Chip smiled modestly, “I’m sorry; of course you do, Mr. Karioth.”
Jude Karioth was Corcey’s alias during the Stone Grove massacre.
“I’d heard something to that effect, after the fact.”
“Oh, did he tell you when you two talked in the bar?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know our conversation verbatim. Ahhh, but Æleƒ’s mush and the chain linq is frozen.”
“We can make an educated guess, which is better than the investigators can do. Fortunately for you, you found us before you found them.”
“Why, am I a suspect?”
“Must admit, the descriptions of the villains strikes me as familiar.” He smiled knowingly. Then he confessed, “You are suspect, but they are investigating under the assumption that it was simply a botched robbery. We’re sure if they pursued the angle that Jae was the target, they’d be very keen on talking to you. They’d also have some questions for your friend, Miss Barbelo. Actually, they’d have questions for Miriam D’Magdaal, but we think you know who i mean.” He winked at Corcey, which had a raspy rotating grate as the lid reset, then continued, “Right after you left the Ærikson’s, Jay left to go see your friend.”
Chip scrutinized Corcey’s reaction. None, except expectation. He continued, “He went back to the bar sullen and withdrawn, and just as his shift was ending he got hit.”
“And I’m a suspect?”
“Depends who you ask.”
“I’ll ask you.”
“No, I think you’ve got an alibi: a Hamaddi YYZ left for New Ra’Math just before the shootout. I have every reason to believe that you are the Thaddeus Lebbaeus on board for Loss Prevention, so you’re clear by a few hours. Unless someone can figure out how you got from the bar to the in-flight YYZ, but that’s Jeg'Stt's department.”
“Who’s Jeg'Stt's?”
“Someone I’m sharing information with on the station’s chain. We’re everywhere, man.” Then, apologetically, he said “Take everything Jeg'Stt says with a bahng hit: it’s been plugged in to the chain way too long, and gets some pretty wild theories. Don’t even get it started about Dealey Plaza.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Corcey replied with ease, having no idea what Dealey Plaza was. Probably Da'Lypl'Aa'Zz'aa, some ancient Saladrin conspiracy he was unfamiliar with.
“Jeg'Stt and I differ on what kind of chain you’re plugged into. It has some rather interesting theories involving c∞i theory.”
“Jeg'Stt
could be right,”
shrugged Corcey. “My head certainly
feels years out of place.” His synapses
had turned to cobwebs two months old.
Chip laughed. “It’s listening in,
and just said ‘see!’.” “Hate to break it to
you, Jeg'Stt, but I needed Jae
alive for questioning. If I killed him,
I wouldn’t come back to question him.” “You think he knew
where Sophia went?” “Yes.” “That is precisely
why i think she was the girl in
black at the bar. She was covering her
tracks.” As usual, the truth
was a divergent subplot that actually involved Pov and his Pandrovian
girlfriend. Corcey was only involved
because he scared Jae enough to packing an SLX and then react unwisely when
Pov-In-Black tazered Æleƒ and then told him to get on the floor. “How long have you
known that she was here the same time I was?” Chip shrugged. “About two days after the fact, when the
first full reports of the crime scene were filed. That’s when we
found out he went to see Miriam D’Magdaal. I checked into her, and when we
found the Jae connection, we also
found you. Assuming we have pegged correct identities for
each of you, it seems that you knew Miss Barbelo quite well, but only met Jae
twice.” “Actually, I only
met Jae once, two weeks ago.” Chip frowned,
“Oh? we’d
assumed your proximity on Stone Grove...” His expression changed. “Actually, since we’ve
spent a few nanoseconds studying your chronicles, and we actually have you in front of me, we were
curious if you could clarify some sketchy areas.” “Like what?” asked
Corcey guardedly. “You at
Gahmtu, correct?” “Yes.” “Were there any
Rathgean survivors taken prisoner there?” “No.” “Huh,”
said Chip. “Pryce on SreisorXVIIII says you just didn’t see
any.” Corcey shrugged. “Maybe in orbit they found one, but
on the planet we killed ’em all.” “Next question. We’re sure you remember Trevor Malcalypse
and Ian Danzig...” “Oh
yeah,” Corcey
replied with some genuine amusement: the names had forced a grin through his
stoic stone face. “Actually, y’all
might know: Whatever happened to
them?” Chip
chuckled. “Actually, we were hoping to ask you the same
question. We’ve got linqs into Stoneburner’s. Assuming you’re Anubis, you disappeared with them; you’d
actually know
better than we would.” “No idea; we got
separated.” “Next question, from Ridley on White Light. Did you and Sophia
kill Santos?” Corcey smiled. “No; that was a brother and sister
team. I’m not sure how to pronounce
their names, but it rhymes with ‘orange’.” Santos was the flamboyant founder of Trujillo, a strategically placed space
station/casino. Towards the end of
The Swarm, The Militia planned to set another Caandelen-style trap at
Trujillo. Santos’ replacement Quizz'Lyng
turned the station over to the
Rathgeans without a fight.[15] “We could do this all day, but one final
question: how did you escape from “I was so annoying
that they released me just to make me shut up.” Chip seemed disappointed. “We’ve
got two equally credible but mutually exclusive versions; I was hoping you could clarify.” “Another time,
perhaps,” Corcey told him. “I’m very
surprised to see how well you’ve tracked me. Tell me how you tracked Sophia back to this station?” “Simple: we worked backwards from the knowledge
that she came here as D’Magdaal. Conveniently enough, D’Magdaal’s chain-trail starts where Liza Mohn’s ends.” “If you had worked
it forward, could you have concluded Liza Mohn returned here as Miriam
D’Magdaal?” “Already did, just
to confirm it.” “Okay, so without
knowing that I am standing here on MidbiM, tell me where I went after I left
you.” “We’ve been doing
that off and on ever since the bar bash, when I
first considered you a suspect. However, I’ll start over for your benefit.” He smiled condescendingly, then said “I also won’t use Ba’alistti
as a search reference. Too easy. You told us you were trying to get to New
Ra’Math, and a YYZ left here for there two hours later. Our
sources at Etam show a Thaddeus Lebbaeus on board, and it’s easy enough to get
your arrest reports…” Chip smiled mirthfully. “You stayed in the same room as she did...”
and after a moment said “...on Lesser Chaldea your trail ends. However, of all the ships that left since
then, three have had new personnel and passengers who don’t have entrance
histories to Chaldea. One is a Saladrin
who disappears on San'DrakkIII. Of the two humans, one’s in jail on Conning’s
Star, the other arrived on MidbiM half an hour ago.” “It disgusts me,”
Corcey told him, “that you don’t even have to leave your desk to find out all
of these things.” Chip simply tapped his head, where his
scalp was shaved away for an implant plate. “Hey, I’m already
there.” He leaned forward, and
confidently whispered, “Do you know how many of us there are?” “I suspect that
answer would scare me,” Corcey told him. In actuality, it would merely surprise him. Of the past five hundred people Corcey had met, twenty were
either cyborgs or androids. The
majority he’d met between his two visits to MidbiM. “But let’s graduate
to more difficult searches,” said Corcey. “Where do you think she went?” “Before I answer that, we need information. Do you know if she is still alive?” Corcey thought about
it. ...thump... ...thump... ...thump... “Yes.” “Okay. My
first guess would be that upon learning of you from Jae, she would get out of
here as quickly as possible. The first
ship that left was a cargo tug headed for Ri'Qly.
It left twenty minutes after
the shoot-out. My guess was that she was on board leaching, and the man in
black was one of the crew. There’s no
way of knowing, though: it exploded en route. No survivors.” The crew of the
runner had neglected care and precision. “If she was on it,
then she survived it.” “No,” Chip said firmly. The official salvage report was twenty words
long. Blast analyses was five hundred
pages. “That really was our guess for her fate, but I at least will take your word for
it. Barring that, a Saladrin freighter
was refueling here at the time, and left an hour later. No leaches listed, but two days later in
Penumbra Prime a female human is shown as a leach arriving from Rok'Chotta'Iktz, the freighter’s destination.” Corcey looked at him
expectantly. Several long moments went
by, meaning that Chip was
thoroughly researching this. “Think she’s a
member without portfolio at the Daegstrom Institute faculty on Conning’s Star?” “Institute has good
security,” Corcey admitted. He’d tried
to break into it once, barely escaping unscathed. “But I don’t
think so. I’ll look into it if nothing
else pops up.” “Should be easy
enough. She’s teaching a class on
post-Migration literature as we
speak.” “Then I strongly
doubt it’s her.” “We too. We’ll
check the next highest probability.” Chip continued his search, confessing,
“this may take a moment,” then twitched
unpleasantly. He had just accessed The
Beast. Long pause. “Ever heard of Megan
Chapman?” Chip sounded pleased. “No. Her current alias?” “No, but we suspect it was one she used until
about five years ago. But she got a
hard qash advance on Solar Primus a little under two weeks ago. No other records for her, which itself is suspicious.” “So what’s on Solar
Primus?” “Nothing. It’s a jump point jointly owned by GQT and
some private investors. So far we can’t find any evidence of her
staying or leaving.” “What was the
advance for?” “2,500 in a voucher
that was redeemed for local currency twenty minutes later...” Then Chip
grinned. “We confirm her handwriting on the voucher.” “You’re tracking her
through her handwriting?” “Only if a sample
has been scanned in for us to
see. We
got a good feel from several court depositions she’s signed, including her
petition for annulment against you.” “How’d that get on line?” snapped Corcey. Chip smiled modestly. “We’ve
had a few in among you, my
Thunian friend. Usually they come to us when Thunianism doesn’t satisfy.” “I was about to say
that they weren’t doing it right, but then I remembered you were about to tell
me where Sophia went.” “The qash advance
was obviously a bribe to keep mouths quiet and paper trails scarce. We’ve tracked all the ships that have
left since then, and cannot find a good probability match for a link.” “So it’s off to
Solar Primus to pick up the paper trail in person,” Corcey announced with mock
enthusiasm. “Well, you could do that, or you could ask our opinion.” Corcey looked on
expectantly. “Two days after she
qashed the cheque, a freighter left on a supply run to several stations in the
Phoenix Nebula. She has a friend on one
of the stations.” “Anyone I know?” “Geologist named
John Sausolito. What chain-mail we’ve retrieved doesn’t say how they
met, but they were lovers four years ago and they still keep in touch.” “So you think she
might be there?” “That’s the highest
probability, according to Doss'Aa'Maq'yyna
on Solar Prime.” Pause. “It also says to say that Ras'Ti says hello, and that it gloated for
two days when it found out Paq'Ratula
was dead.” Corcey took the news
silently. Everybody was dying. Maybe Sophia was covering her tracks. “What station is
Sausolito on?” “GQT 604. It’s a planet, actually, and its qomputer
system is autonomous. We’ve already tried to haq in from our
GQT relays, but no luck.” “Well, I’m on it.”
Corcey said finally, and prepared to thank Chip. Chip knew the conversation was far from
over. “Not
quite. GQT is in the Phoenix Nebula. Hope you’re not expecting to charter.” “The embargo?”
Corcey guessed. The android looked
at him curiously. “Well,
partly. But haven’t you heard?” The words came
toward Corcey like dark clouds threatening to pour rain. He looked on expectantly, anticipating bad
news. He got it, too. “In the past month, ten ships have either
been raided or disappeared altogether out beyond the Rim, in the Flotsam Morass. The Law thinks it’s either a pirate ring, or
possibly Rathgeans. Either way, there’s
an Outer Frontier Travel Alert. No
private ships allowed beyond the Phoenix Rim, only vital cargo with an escort.” That could have been worse, he thought. He nodded in comprehension, then asked “So is anything flying out there?” “The only thing
that goes out there at all is the supply ship. That’s exempt from the Advisory.” “But
that’s not
a qommercial flight. Think they’ll let
me leach?” “Normally, i’d say of course. This is Galaqtiq QomTeq we’re talking
about. They’ll do anything to make or save a byte. I should know—I got my original
upgrades from them, and they give me
low priority and high price for my own spare parts. Supposedly to save costs on hiring escorts or using their own
during this alert, they found it was cheaper to just bribe The Law to look the
other way until all this is over. So
normally we can almost guarantee
that they will let you leach, and at a very high price. But with the advisory, the captain may be
too edgy to let you on. You’ll know
when you get there.” Corcey frowned in
distaste. “I’d rather know beforehand
if I’m on or not. Any way you can
solidify my chances?” Chip also frowned, the result of a
private conversation he was having. At
last he said, “Actually, we’ve
just had a look at the freighter. Captain Kkat'Chaxx is
bonded and has an exemplary record. We show low probabilities that you
could leach, but since he’s such a qompany puppet he probably wouldn’t question
a mum status. Tell you what; we’ll forge you a mum keyword. If you can bluff your way with it, your
fine, but if anyone checks to verify, your on your own.” “Fair enough,”
Corcey said. Mum status almost never
was checked: by definition it was a security clearance that was not to be
spoken of. “And thank you.” “Okay,” Chip continued with almost no pause,
“the shuttle will doq at Solar Primus tomorrow and then makes its run in
five days. Can you get to Solar Primus
in five days?” It turned out that a
direct flight to Solar Primus would take eight days, and even then, there were
no direct flights. “What stops
does the freighter make? I might be
able to meet it at one before it stopped at 604.” “Nice
idea,” the android complemented, “but the first stop is GQT 604. It’s a five day flight from Solar Primus to there.” Corcey thought about
chartering again. Even with heavy
baksheesh, almost no pilot would consent to fly out there now. Most were hesitant to fly beyond the Rim
anyway, but with this Travel ban in effect, the chances were a virtual
nil. The Law catching you out there
would be as bad as pirates or Rathgeans catching you. Worse, any pilot willing to try was probably a character Corcey
wouldn’t want to deal with anyway. He
realized that the supply freighter was the only real choice. “What’s the
chance of the supply ship being delayed from leaving—maybe its having
meqanical problems.” A pessimist
by nature, he knew he was reaching for it. “Not unheard
of, but for three days?” “You can’t have Doss'Aa'Maq'yyna cause a delay at Solar
Primus?” “Not without
compromising ourselves.” Corcey was stumped. “What’s the
frequency of resupply runs?” “Once every twenty days.” To say the least,
that was unacceptable. “Help me out, man:
is there any other way?” Chip double-checked his sources. “Not that we can see.” It took a moment to
accept: he was so close, but now he’d have to wait... he did the math, realized
seventeen days. As it
sank in, it had the effects of slamming on the brakes in his mind. Over two weeks. He was a man of action. What would he do for seventeen
days? He took a breath,
and blew it out with resignation. “Well, at the very
least, can Doss'Aa'Maq'yyna
recommend
a good place to stay?” Chip grinned and said, “Oh yeah” in a way that did not reassure
him.
next chapter
[15] In all fairness, the path of the Rathgean Swarm was easily chartable, and Quizz'Lyng saw the writing on the wall. Suspecting the Caandelen Trap was either luck or a lesson which the Rathgeans surely had learned from, it broadcast a message to open space essentially saying the Rathgeans could have the station without a fight if it could have 6 hours to evacuate all personnel. Quizz'Lyng’s personal shuttle was the last on off the station—with forty minutes to spare on his self-imposed deadline—and was promptly picked up by the Trap Vanguard and sent on to Militia HQ for retribution. The rest of the Vanguard proceeded to the station with the intent of setting up the trap, only to discover that it had been Swarmed in the forty minutes since Quizz'Lyng left. The Vanguard’s first report of the Swarm was also its last. Quizz'Lyng sat out the remainder of the Swarm in prison, appealing a ‘treason’ sentence until parties unknown’ meted out justice with an icepick to the spacesuit. In mild irony, the guard who did the deed was the first person Sophia had slept with after she left Corcey.