Insidious. Part 19

"Is that all?" Aldriena said sarcastically.

"No, actually there is one other ..." Bren said. He trailed off as Aldriena raised an eyebrow at him.

"We want you to help us capture one of them," Nicole said.

"You'll have everyone after you seize the base!"

"No, we want one of the aliens."

"One of the spinners? How can I help you? You have huge armored robots that trundle around blowing the s.h.i.t out of everything that moves. And a whole brigade of marines-"

"Only two battalions, actually," Nicole said. "Although we are getting more soon."

"Oh. Well. I now see why you need me," Aldriena said.

"You can get on the station to deliver a shipment," Bren said. "If you can find out where the spinner or spinners are, that alone would help. Better yet, if you can get close to one, you can use a glue bomb on it."

"A glue bomb won't-"

"This isn't a normal glue grenade," Nicole said. "It's a lot more ... industrial. A robot stopper, almost like instant-set concrete."

"Except lighter," Bren added. He winced. That probably went without saying. Surely, Nicole had noticed his tongue-tied mien. He'd lost whatever chance he had to stand out in her eyes on this one.

"Sounds dangerous," Aldriena said. "If I use it, I could get stuck myself and asphyxiate. If I miss, then sure as h.e.l.l the spinner isn't going to be happy."

"Then don't miss," Nicole said.

"Well. I survived a group of h.o.r.n.y s.p.a.ce rangers, so what do I have to lose, going up against a deadly alien monster?"

"Is that a yes?" Nicole asked.

"I'm gonna need some Momma Veer and my gun. C4B."

"What?"

"Never mind. I need a Veer skinsuit, not that cheap s.h.i.t you give your grunts. You guys have some good guns somewhere too, right?"

Nicole frowned. "I'm sure we can dig one up."

"Okay, well how much does this job pay?" asked Aldriena.

"You know there's going to be a huge political whiplash about all of this when it comes to light," Nicole said. "You can come out unscathed if you help us get what we want. Otherwise, you'll look like part of the problem."

Aldriena sighed. "Didn't anyone teach you s.p.a.ce force types that you can get more with a carrot than a stick?"

"That is the carrot, miss," Nicole said. Bren started. He hadn't realized that Nicole could sound so forceful. "You don't even want to know what the stick is."

Bren watched Aldriena bristle.

"The UNSF does regular news feeds about the base incursions now that everyone knows we're out here," he jumped in. "You're scheduled to be part of the next one. You'll be painted as some kind of traitor ... unless we prevent that."

Bren figured an operative like Aldriena didn't want to have her ident.i.ty widely advertised. Surely, Black Core would be more likely to take her back into service if she kept a low profile.

"Very well," she said. "But I still say you're making me choose between a small stick and a big stick. I don't see any carrots around here."

"We'll draw up a contract. Payment only for the completion of your objectives," Nicole said.

"At last! A vegetable!" Aldriena said.

Eleven.

Cinmei sat on Chris's bed. Her slender body hid from his eyes beneath a turquoise robe. Even though Chris felt a crushing load of worry and fear from his situation, he stared at the smooth brown skin of her shapely calves where they descended from her garment. He caught the scent of cinnamon that followed her around the quarters. Perhaps if he leaned closer, he could sample the scent better.

He forced his fantasies to submerge. He had to have his wits about him to get home alive.

"Well? Tell me your plan. How are we gonna do this?" he asked.

"Shuttle. We will be on."

"How can we do that? They'll never let us."

"Have others who help. They fool computer."

"And Captain?"

"We go during challenge."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. Best time. Only one chance, I think."

Chris felt helpless. He had no network of people here, no experience in smuggling anything, certainly not people. He felt the VG security people were competent. He'd seen one or two greedy employees relegated to subsistence level for trying to cheat the company payroll. Only the strongest lasted very long at subsistence. If the low calorie diet didn't get you then eventually you'd get sick and die without any medical attention. Yet, Cinmei had offered a way out, and he didn't think he could escape alone.

What choice do I have?

"Has anyone you worked with escaped before?"

"No. Haven't tried."

"I wonder what Alec will do if they catch us," Chris said. "I mean, I wonder what Captain will do."

Cinmei didn't answer.

"Where are you from?" Chris asked.

"Beijing."

"What kind of spy are you exactly? Do you work for the Chinese government or a corporation?"

Cinmei looked away. "No matter," she said.

It didn't surprise Chris that she didn't answer his direct question.

"Okay, well never mind about that. I wonder what it's like growing up in the Chinese bloc. Is it true that you have a billion people living at subsistence?"

"No."

"Hrm. Well, what bad things did you hear about the West when you were in Beijing?"

"Americans all use drugs. Drugs to keep happy and stupid. Brazilians are all segui."

"Segui?"

"s.e.x ... s.e.x monster," she said.

"Ah. Well, I don't use many drugs. Although a sleeping pill tonight might be wise. I doubt I can go to sleep given the current plan for tomorrow."

Cinmei nodded.

"I help you sleep," she said.

"I was hoping you might say that."

The next morning, Chris awakened with the lethargy of a troubled night of sleep. Cinmei wasn't in the room. He stared at himself in the wall mirrors of his personal quarters. He lay entwined in the maroon bedsheet. Sleep had disheveled his blond hair, but it was so short it didn't look too bad. He looked older now. No gray hairs, but the lines of his face cut deeper.

Is this how Chris Adrastus dies? he asked himself. Slaughtered by an alien in a reckless attempt to escape Synchronicity?

He dressed in light pants and a white shirt and then layered his gear over the top. He wondered if this were the last day he'd have to wear it. He'd about become used to the bulky armor-like garments. They made him feel protected, like a thick set of winter boots.

He walked out into the main room. Cinmei sat on the couch wearing a small set of gear except for the helmet, which rested on the gla.s.s table before her. The suit was black with gray webbing similar to his with the blue trim of a low ranking individual.

"Gear for you? How did you get it?"

"Made doctor appointment," Cinmei said. She grabbed her helmet and stood up.

"How many of your people are coming?"

"No room for anyone else," she said. "We can only fool the security this much. Red may know. He has killed," she said. She put her helmet on. Chris thought he could tell it was she inside the gear from the graceful movements, but he told himself that was only because he'd seen her don it.

"I remember!" Chris said. He slipped his helmet on.

They left the quarters and marched down the outside hall past rows of doors to other living accommodations. Chris thought he could tell Cinmei wasn't used to the gear. She had the same awkward gait he'd had his first day or two on the station. It took awhile to get used to the extra bulk of the suits, even though they were fairly light.

Will someone notice? It doesn't matter. Just paranoid.

Chris felt danger gnawing at his gut. When he'd been competing for Alec Vineaux's attention, he had fed off the uncertainty and what he'd thought of as "danger." Now he felt cowed, vulnerable. He didn't thrive on the action anymore. At least not today.

He followed Cinmei into larger concourses where more people moved about heading to incarnate meetings or duties. The traffic wasn't heavy, because more than half of work and a third of social activity took place in a virtual format. No one pointed out Cinmei or yelled at him to stop. He relaxed a notch.

Advertis.e.m.e.nts flickered on the walls. His link fed them into his visual cortex from outside agencies and painted them onto the large flat surfaces. The ads were tailored to him personally-other people saw different ads based on their known proclivities and past purchasing history.

"Jacobson disposable wardrobe. For the serious traveler. They'll think you brought your clothes all the way from Earth!" a stranger urged him from an ad on his left.

Chris winced. If the advertising software suspected he was headed to the s.p.a.ceport, would Captain know too?

They filtered into the main entrance of the port. Almost no one else seemed to be going into the departure area. Chris wanted to ask how big a flight they were on. He didn't want to attract any attention, and since Cinmei supposedly didn't have a link, he didn't dare try to transmit a message. His link hadn't picked up any signal that she had one, which didn't surprise him. She couldn't emit the public link broadcast protocols and go unnoticed.

They walked up to a collection of doors divided by rails like racehorse chutes. Cinmei selected one and they walked inside. Chris recognized the room as one of the small check-in areas he had been in after getting off the VG shuttle. He looked at the checker bot built into the wall expectantly, but it didn't move.

"Wait here," Cinmei said.

"Hey, wait! How big is this flight, anyway? How come no one else is here?"

"Technicians only," she said. "Not for pa.s.sengers. Cargo flight."

"Really? Oh."

Chris had been envisioning a fancy s.p.a.ceplane like his flight out from Earth. Yet another uncertainty. He didn't even know what the plane looked like, or what it would be like inside. A cargo flight sounded much less pleasing than the luxury flight he'd arrived on, but he antic.i.p.ated leaving nonetheless.

"Wait," Cinmei repeated. "Time must be right; we pretend to be someone else." She walked ahead out of the room.

Chris stood nervously waiting for Cinmei to reappear. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl while he fought a combination of impatience and dread. He shifted around aimlessly staring at the barren room. The advertis.e.m.e.nts hadn't followed them here. The robotic inspector remained lifeless at the counter. He had an odd fear that it would return to life and sound an alarm in a shrill voice.

"We get on now."

Chris jumped. He spun around. Of course, it was only Cinmei. He hadn't heard her return. He slumped.

"Relax. It go like plan," she said, tugging on his arm. He stepped toward her. She lifted his hand and placed a silvery metal object into his armored palm. Chris looked at the device. It was a smooth cylinder with two needles protruding from the front. It had a firing stud and a safety switch on top.

"Stunner?" he guessed.

"Taser," she said. "For emergency. I take care of pilots."

"The computer flies the shuttle, not the pilots," Chris pointed out.

"Pilots control computer," she said. "They give me the authorization to ..." Cinmei hesitated, looking for a word. "Navigate."

"But they're not our people?"

Cinmei walked ahead and didn't answer. Chris wondered what Cinmei was going to do to get the pilots to help. Bribery? Torture? Was there another way? Maybe mind control, he thought. After all, Captain had managed to manipulate minds. Could Cinmei's people have mastered that technology?