“Our passenger manifest has no Marce Claremont, lord or otherwise.”
“I thought we agreed to cut the shit, Captain. Marce Claremont is currently on your ship under the name of Kristian Jansen, which is an identity the House of Lagos uses when it wants to smuggle someone off-system. You might want to inform your employers that they should change up their house identities more often than they do. You do have a Kristian Jansen on board, yes?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Good.”
“But there’s a problem.”
“Captain Blinnikka, I regret to inform you that if the ‘problem’ is Claremont is also in small pieces, I’m going to be required to do the same to your ship.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that I either get Claremont alive, or make the Yes, Sir dead. Those are your options.”
“We would take you with us,” Blinnikka said.
“No, you wouldn’t. Now, what is the problem with Claremont?”
“He’s not dead. But he is currently in a medically induced coma.”
“Why?”
“Because he was in the corridor with your ‘associate’ when the bomb went off. He and several other crew members were trying to interrupt your friend. He survived. Two other crew members didn’t.”
“Condolences, Captain.”
“You just threatened to destroy my ship and kill my entire crew, Captain. Your condolences are hollow.”
“Understood. Can Claremont travel?”
“We can hand him off to you alive and stable. Everything else is up to you.”
“Agreed. We will come alongside in three and a half hours. We’ll have a shuttle ready to transfer him.”
“No. We’ll send a shuttle to you.”
“Captain—”
“None of you are setting foot on my ship. You want him, fine. I’ll give him to you. But we’re coming to you.”
“Then I want you on the shuttle for the handoff. As assurance you’re not sending a shuttle-sized bomb.”
“Not me,” Blinnikka said. “I’ll send the owner’s representative instead. That will suit your purpose. And a medical staffer. They stay on the shuttle, you send in your own people to take Claremont out of it. Everything done in ten minutes maximum. Any longer and we’re going down together, whether you believe it or not.”
“Done. We’ll inform you when we’re ready to receive you. Red Rose out.” The connection was cut.
“Thanks for volunteering me, asshole,” Kiva said, as soon as the connection was wiped.
“The ship is underway,” Blinnikka said. “I’m in command now, Lady Kiva. And I need you to do this thing. So shut up and do it, ma’am.”
“Fine.” She pointed at Marce. “And you’re coming with me. Congratulations, you just got promoted to the medical staff.” She looked over at Blinnikka. “Okay?” Blinnikka nodded.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Marce said.
“You don’t get a vote. And you also told Pinton you were willing to help. Stop whining like a fucking child.”
“You could have just said, ‘I need your help.’”
“All right. I need your help. Stop whining like a fucking child.”
“That’s not better.”
“Where is your Kristian costume?”
“I threw it away.”
“Well, go dig it out. And then go to the medical bay. We have things to do.”
*
“Hold out your thumb,” the Red Rose medical technician said to Kiva.
“The fuck you say,” Kiva replied.
The technician sighed, turned away, and called out the open ramp of the shuttle. A Red Rose crew member with a bolt thrower strode on the shuttle ramp.
“Hold out your thumb, or Sax here will blow your head off,” the medical technician said.
Kiva held out her thumb; the technician jabbed it. Then she did a retinal scan. “You’re Lady Kiva Lagos,” she said.
“How the fuck did you get our personnel database?” Kiva asked the technician.
The technician ignored her and went over to Marce. “Thumb,” she said. Marce offered it.
“Gusteen Obrecht,” she said. She went over to the body on the medical gurney. For that one, she checked the thumb, and the retina, and drew blood from a vein in the right arm. Marce watched that final test, and waited for the result.
“Marce Claremont,” she confirmed, and then Sax called to another Red Rose crewperson, who came on board and whisked the gurney away. The medical technician nodded to Kiva and Marce, and turned.
“Hey,” Kiva said. The technician turned back, and Kiva reached over and grabbed a small rucksack—the rucksack Marce brought on to the Yes, Sir, in fact—and held it out to the technician.
“What is that?” the technician asked.
“What he brought onto the ship with him. Some toiletries and sundries.”
“He might want to shave once he regains consciousness,” Marce added.
The technician took the rucksack, nodded to the two of them, and then walked out of the shuttle.
“Let’s button this thing up and get the fuck out of here,” Kiva said.
“Agreed,” Marce said. Kiva pounded on the door of the pilot compartment to signal the transfer had been made.
“Were you nervous?” Marce asked Kiva, as the shuttle headed back to the Yes, Sir.
“About what?”
“About the transfer. About them checking Chat’s body for my genetics.”
“No,” Kiva said. “The thumb pad and the contacts we made from your scrapings are the same quality as we get for our fake identities. Our medical facilities are top notch like that.”
Marce nodded and then winced a little bit, remembering the corneal scraping he endured to get the seed material for the contacts overlaid onto Chat’s eyes. The contacts were fast-grown, as was the thumb pad, which ran the risk of genetic anomalies that would give them away. They got lucky. “I was thinking of the blood draw.”
Kiva shrugged. “It was your blood. Sucked it out of you, clipped off the major vessels in his arms, drained that blood, put yours in. It’s not complicated.”
“I didn’t know if the shunts would hold.”
“They’ll dissolve soon and his normal blood flow will come back. If he’s lucky his muscles won’t be necrotic and he’ll be able to keep his arms.”
“And if he’s not lucky?”
“If he’s not lucky, then fuck him, he tried to put a bomb in my ship.”
“And kill me,” Marce reminded her.
“Right,” Kiva said.
“What if it hadn’t worked?”
“You mean, what if they figured out that was Chat on the gurney while we were still there?”
“Yes.”
“I had a backup plan.”
“What? Run?”
“No. I’d give them you.”
“What?” Marce looked at Kiva, shocked.
Kiva looked back. “Don’t look at me like that. Why do you think I had you go? Because I like your company?”
“I thought I was one of your people now.”
“Yeah, but you’re new,” Kiva said. “And there were a whole lot of other people to think about.”
Marce didn’t say anything else to Kiva for the short remainder of the journey.
As they exited the shuttle on the Yes, Sir and the ship accelerated away from the Red Rose, Marce received a ping on his tablet: a forwarded message from Vrenna.
Tracked down that thing you asked. Sjo Tinnuin heard the rumor from a friend who works for the House of Nohamapetan. Says the Nohamapetans have been paying for navigational data from ships for the last couple of years.
It sounds like maybe they’re seeing some of the same things we see. I don’t know what that means for us, but I don’t think it means anything good.
Be careful out there. Miss you already.
—V
Kiva tapped Marce on the shoulder. He looked up from his tablet. “Come with me,” she said.
“I’m tired,” Marce said, putting his tablet away.
“Do you honestly think you’re going to sleep until we’re in the Flow and these pirates are well fucking behind us? Come on.” She walked out of the shuttle bay. Marce stared after her and followed.
Presently they came to Kiva’s cabin. Marce entered and was immediately jealous. “You have a room the size of a room,” he said to Kiva, who had entered the room behind him. He stared at the immense expanse of the wall in front of him, which featured schedules, notes, and personal photos.