Song of Scarabaeus (9 page)

Zeke chuckled and placed his drub on the table before addressing Edie. “Since you're now under captain's orders.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Haller told me to send you belowdeck this afternoon. I'll be portside for a couple of hours, but Kristos will introduce you to the rigs. Any questions, ask him. Just don't expect the right answer. He's keen, but green as snot.”

Kristos looked up at the sound of his name, showing no particular reaction to Zeke's words. As the most junior member of the crew, he probably endured such insults on an hourly basis.

“Hey, take me portside, Zeke,” Cat said, throwing her arm around the big man's shoulders. The way their brown eyes flashed at each other made Edie wonder if they were lovers. Cat looked at Edie. “I've got some creds to burn at Neuchasley. You want anything?”

“A couple of one-way tickets to Port Paradiso,” Edie said.

Zeke guffawed. Cat just looked uncomfortable.

Edie thumbed her tray aside, pushed back her chair, and grabbed the drub before Zeke had time to remind her. As she headed out, aware that Finn had risen to follow her, the drub was an awkward weight in her hand. Maybe she could find a use for it if the machines got temperamental.

Kristos fired up a tracker so Edie could calibrate her wet-teck interface and practice some commands. The young op-teck had spent a couple of hours showing her the rigs and the only thing she'd learned was that Zeke was the most disorganized teck she'd ever met. Finn was attempting to bring some order to the chaos by sorting a chest of tools into trays over in the corner of the equipment hold, a job Zeke had assigned him before leaving for the dock to pick up a gang of serfs. Finn's hands moved quickly to accomplish the mind-numbing task. Every so often he paused to adjust a tool, to dismantle or reset it. He handled them with a practiced flair that convinced Edie he must have meck experience.

For the better part of the afternoon, Kristos kept up a monologue—although much of what came out of his mouth was information-free. Edie discovered he was a year younger than she, far too fresh-faced to be shunning legal teck work for this gig. When she asked what he was doing with rovers, he evaded the question with a shrug. Maybe he had a juvenile record that prevented him from joining the civil service, at least until he turned twenty-five and could wipe his slate. Not that he'd ever get a foot in the door at a Crib recruitment center if they found out the specifics of his current job.

“So cool, being able to control teckware just by thinking about it.” Kristos watched Edie with awe. Edie had never considered it
cool
, nor shown any particular enthusiasm for her work. She was just good at it and had never been given other options.

“That's not quite the way it works. I don't control the biocyph. More like, coerce it. The whole point of biocyph in an operation as complex as terraforming is that it works best when it's left alone to interact with the environment, learn from its mistakes, and evolve its own solutions.”

Looking over Zeke's rigs, she wondered how the crew had coped over the last few years, considering the state of the equipment. It represented a broad mix of technology: some rather dubious-looking security tracking units, a bank of outdated—and certainly stolen—CCU biocyph interface units for hijacking and reprogramming the BRATs, and an assortment of spare parts for repairs. There were even a few BRAT seed husks, many of them wrenched apart, lined up against the bulkhead like open coffins built for six-meter-tall giants.

“What happened to those BRATs?” she asked Kristos.

“I don't really know. Most of the time the biocyph just sort of falls apart when you force the BRATs open. It was one of Jasna's projects.”

“Jasna?”

“Our last cypherteck. Take a look at those stasis modules over there. We use them to stabilize the BRATs while we hijack them.”

Edie used a hardlink to jack into one of the modules, a flat unit not much bigger than a tom. The datastream buzzed along her arm, up her spine, into her wet-teck.

“So, what happened to Jasna?”

The good humor left Kristos's face. “They didn't tell you?”

Before he had time to explain, the external hatch snapped open. Zeke exited the airlock followed by three men who were instantly recognizable as serfs—the cropped hair and sullen looks, the identical garb. A few days ago, Finn would
not have looked out of place among them. A chorus of toms skittered out of their way as the men shuffled in, carrying crates and cases.

Zeke instructed them where to put the supplies by pointing to apparently random places in the hold as they went back and forth, unloading the airlock. The only case he seemed concerned about was a shiny rig that one of the men wheeled in on a trolley. Zeke stopped him and sent him back through the airlock to the far hatch, which led to the landing skiff.

Zeke had on a bright orange tee that he hadn't been wearing earlier. In the multicolored light sources of the surrounding striplights and consoles, it seemed to glow. It was a good guess that Cat had picked it out for him portside. He caught Edie's eye and thumped his chest as he called out to her, “Nice, huh?”

He joined them, nodding with approval to see Edie checking out his rigs.

“What d'ya think, then, teckie?”

“Uh, I have questions.”

“Fire away.”

“I don't mean to question your competence, but how do you intend to disable the planet's security beacons with those trackers over there?”

“Aw, beacons are the least of our worries on a planet that's not even being monitored.”

“These stasis modules aren't much better. It's a miracle you can make usable keystones at all.”

“What's wrong with them?”

She tried to explain it diplomatically. “Your cypherteck cut corners. She forced simplistic start-up routines onto the biocyph.”

“Yeah…” Zeke scratched his head. “Uh, why would she do that?”

“Makes the modules easier to handle once they start doing their job, but it also stifles the natural inclinations of the biocyph, makes it less adaptable in new situations or if something goes wrong.”

“Can you fix it?” he asked. “Cuz something always goes wrong.”

“The biocyph's responded predictably, writing itself some clever leapfrogs.” Edie paused and tried more commands through her interface. “And it's produced defensive coding to try and counteract her overlaid routines. They were fighting each other all the way.”

Zeke grimaced. “I always thought she looked kinda stressed out.”

“Biocyph needs to be prodded and coaxed, not forced into submission by aggressive commands. Otherwise it's wasted—you may as well be using regular dry-teck.”

“I know, I know.” He glanced around the hold. “Is Haller about?”

“He's off duty,” Kristos replied.

That seemed to be the answer Zeke wanted. “Edie, come with me. I'll show you something that'll impress you.”

She followed him into the landing skiff, which had a hold that was marginally better organized thanks to rows of brackets to hold the equipment in place for atmospheric flight and landings. In the center of the hold stood the main drill, a permanent fixture surrounded by a scaffolding of platforms and conduits. It was exactly the equipment that a prospecting vessel would carry, but these rovers probably never used it. Beyond it was a short ramp leading to the cockpit.

Zeke drew Edie's attention away from the drill and flicked open the case that she'd seen the serf carry in.

“Just picked up this baby from a Neuchasley merchant.” He handed her a hardlink. “Take a look.”

“What is it?”

“Some sort of booster. The guy said it can turn around a failing ecosystem in ten months.”

She shook her head. “Zeke, you know that's not possible.”

“Sure it is. I've seen it. Or something like it. Listen, the insides are probably a bit screwy. Maybe you can work your magic on it. I don't want to sell it to some poor buggers and have it turn their planet into mash.”

Mash
. An ugly word for ugly failure. CCU had its share of them. Most terraformed planets never made it past the first half-decade—the ecosystem tended to crash within months, and a few years after that the lingering cyphviruses reduced all living matter to decaying organic sludge. A fallen world, the Crib elegantly called such a disaster when it felt the need to announce the failure. Tecks in the seeding program called it mash and wrote long reports about why it wasn't their fault. Meanwhile, the planet rotted.

The ecosystems of colonies that couldn't pay their renewal fees suffered the same fate.

“It's very pretty,” Edie conceded, because in truth she was curious to take a look at the device. It sounded something like a reverse bio-bomb. “But our priority is to prep the rigs for Scarabaeus, right?”

“I just wanted to show you. And don't tell Haller, okay? He doesn't need to know where every penny of the supplies allowance goes.”

So that was Zeke's game—overreporting the cost of new equipment and using the leftover creds to make his own trades. This wasn't an industry that used invoices and receipts. By confiding in her, he'd made her an accomplice. That was fine by Edie. Because they shared a profession, Zeke was the one person on the ship she was closest to implicitly trusting, although she recognized the irrationality of her reasoning. If he wanted to bond with her by confessing his subversive acts against Haller and Stichting Corp, she'd accept that.

He caressed the control panel with affection and Edie relented, squatting for a closer inspection.

“Thanks. And I forgive you for insulting my rigs back there.” He gave her a friendly smile that she couldn't help returning. “You were pretty unhelpful in the briefing yesterday.” His tone was conversational, but she sensed tension, as though he was wary of saying the wrong thing and threatening their newfound comradeship.

“I was a trainee during that mission. They didn't tell me
much.” Thinking about Scarabaeus set her pulse hammering. She still couldn't believe she was going back.

“Want some friendly advice? Learn to fake it. Bluff your way through the details. Haller won't know the difference. He's very much the big picture guy. You need to be useful to him.”

“I know that.” The conversation made her uneasy, even though the same thought had already crossed her mind. She sat back on her heels and changed the topic. “Kristos told me you trained with CCU.”

“Sure did. Not with biocyph, mind you, just as an operations teck. Did some seeding work. Gave them ten years before I came to my senses, realized the real action was with rovers. Maybe you'll see that too, eventually.”

She made a noncommittal sound. She and Finn had a plan and it didn't include running with rovers in the long-term.

She tapped the rig. “This biocyph is decades out of date. Looks flashy, but its guts are obsolete. I hope you weren't ripped off.”

“But you can train it, can't you? Catch it up with the latest specs?”

“I can try. If I have time.”

“Terrific.” He lowered his voice, although there was no one else around. “If you feel like making a little extra, just let me know. I got contacts all over the place, but half the time I don't know what to do with the shit they sell me. All kinds of stuff I can pick up cheap. Boosters, med units, those regulator things they use for hothouse ag-teck. You fix the biocyph up for me, maybe track down some customers on the Fringe, I'll cut you a share of the profit.”

“How do I track down customers when there's a comms blackout?”

“You can override that.”

Edie sighed, shaking her head dramatically. “Zeke, leave me out of your games.”

“Suit yourself. Just saying, us tecks should stick together.”

“Doesn't mean we have to go down together. You want to answer a question for me?”

“Fire away.”

“What happened to Jasna?”

Zeke's expression turned hard. “Eco-rads happened to Jasna.” He let that sink in, then continued. “Couple of months ago we were docked at some port on the Fringe and they…it's like they jumped out of the walls. Went straight for her, cut her throat, and vanished.” That was how they worked. They didn't need to kill the entire team. Taking out the cypherteck had the same effect. A seeding team couldn't do anything without its cypherteck. “She was a good kid—even knew how to charm Haller. Everyone liked her. Not exactly a wiz with biocyph, but as good as any cypherteck who hasn't had the benefit of Crib training.”

Edie didn't know what to say. These people worked outside the law and she didn't understand their motives, but they had their own code, formed bonds like normal people. It was clear Zeke had cared for Jasna.

She could relate to that. She'd lost someone she loved to eco-rads, too.

“This is a good gig, the
Hoi Polloi
,” he went on, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “Rads are still a problem, and sometimes we have to deal with rivals. But we've got client backing, a nice cover story in case CIP noses around. And now we've got a Crib teckie complete with a bullet-stopper.” Edie winced at his choice of words. “I'll leave you to this. I've got three more serfs and a bunch of supplies to bring over.”

“You're returning portside?” She peered through the hatch into the
Hoi
's hold beyond. “What about the—the guys in there?”

“Kristos can handle them. They're tranq'ed and stable. But keep the hatches closed until I get back.”

He went to have a word with Kristos and then left. At the sound of the hatches snapping shut, Edie realized she was
only meters from freedom. She hadn't allowed the idea of escape to take form in her mind, not now she and Finn had agreed to complete the mission and use the creds to deal with the leash. But it was tempting to fantasize about making a run for it…

A blinking light on the hatch panel caught her eye. Zeke had left the hatches unlocked. He was only a few dozen meters away and wouldn't be leaving the vicinity of the dock, so he hadn't bothered about security. She went over, snapped the skiff's hatch, and looked into the airlock. Every one of its six walls had a hatch—she'd heard that such a connection was called a six-way. Only three hatches were in use—one leading to the skiff, one to the
Hoi
, and one to the gangway that connected to the dock.

Edie's hand shot out and she pressed her fingers to the gangway hatch's lock before her brain caught up to what her subconscious mind had made her do. Dry-teck wasn't her forte, but her splinter allowed her to deal with complex code better than many op-tecks. With the lock disengaged, she was able to copy its code to her splinter and rip apart the tiers with impunity. The lock was primed for a crew key in combination with an authorized thumbprint—a print from any of the
Hoi
's senior crew. The latter was something she couldn't replicate, but she could fool the lock into accepting her thumbprint as well. Her heart racing in anticipation of Zeke's imminent return, she altered the code to accept a new input and fed it back into the lock. It beeped for input, and she pressed her left thumb against the optical panel.