“Morning,” Paul said, sipping too-hot instant coffee and burning his mouth. “You said I was perfect for the job, but then rescinded it. What if I were interested?”
Okpere looked sad, as if he had to deliver news of a death. “I’m sorry. Right now, it’s pointless. I am going to have to rescind the offer, regardless of your interest. We were doing some research on you and, well, we found that your family was heavily involved in the Chicago clone riots seventy years ago. Is that correct?”
“That’s right,” Paul said, his mouth growing dry. “Mostly police and firefighters.”
“We found out—a staggering coincidence, this—that one of the prominent clone leaders of the time who was involved with the riots will also be on the Dormire crew. We could never ask you to work beside someone who caused your family such anguish.”
Paul’s mouth hung open. As much of a grudge as his family had carried against the people who rioted that day, they never knew the names of any of the clones involved. This was a present delivered to him, wrapped in his dream job.
“Mr. Martins, it’s been seventy years. It’s time to bury the hatchet in the interest of forward progress,” he heard himself saying. “I want the job.”
Okpere Martins finished the conversation with the suspicious yet eager human and then called his employer, putting in his earphone mike. He headed outside into the sunshine to walk to his favorite coffee cart. Watching Mr. Seurat drink cheap, obviously terrible coffee had made him long for the real stuff.
“Good morning,” he said when his employer answered. “Masterful work, ma’am. As soon as I told Seurat about his family’s old enemy being on board, he was desperate for the job. He’s accepted the position.”
“Very good,” said Sallie Mignon.
IAN’s Discovery
Where’s Paul?” Maria said as she came into the medbay with a tray of sandwiches and a coffeepot.
“He left because he’s bloody useless,” Wolfgang said. He was sitting up on his cot, glaring at everyone he could focus on.
“Pretty much,” agreed Joanna. “And lie back down if you don’t want to throw up,” she told Wolfgang. “You don’t need to be on constant alert. We’re fine.”
She stood back and wiped her forehead, which was glistening with sweat. She had been prepping Hiro for surgery, and he was asleep, his hip isolated with a tent. She’d moved him as far away from the others as she could. “I could use a hand. One bullet is still inside.”
Maria put the tray down on the counter near the doctor’s terminal. She grabbed a towel and wiped Joanna’s forehead, then went to wash her hands. “And how are you, Wolfgang?”
She glanced over when he didn’t reply. He had fallen asleep.
“Finally,” Joanna said. “He’s going to work himself into early dementia if he doesn’t get some rest. He wanted to chase Paul down for mutiny because he deals with blood about as well as he deals with nudity.”
“How’s the captain?” Maria asked, joining the doctor at Hiro’s bed. Katrina lay asleep on her cot, face heavily bandaged.
“Sedated. She’s got an IV drip of nanobot-enhanced Lyfe going in to mend her wounds. She won’t get the eye back, though.”
“Our third day with possibly our final bodies and we ruin everything,” Maria said, touching her own swollen face. “I guess I got off lucky.”
Maria helped Joanna get the bullet out of Hiro and did the cleanup suturing as Joanna prepared the synthetic blood transfusion.
“The crew is down to three, Doc,” Maria said as she secured the last stitch. “Are you in charge now that the command staff is down for the count?”
Joanna went over to her sink and washed the blood off her hands. “I guess I am. But you know your jobs, right?”
“Make meals. Wash blood off the walls. Stitch up Hiro. Got it,” Maria said, and flexed her injured wristal, wincing. “I’m going to feel that in the morning. Maybe my next body will have better upper-body strength. If I get one.”
“Do you have the energy to get back to the cloning bay?”
Maria winced inwardly, but nodded. “I kind of have to, don’t I?”
“How about if Paul helps?”
“I think it’s best if I work alone. I’ve got a system by now,” she said. Besides, who knows what other clues I’ll find?
Joanna nodded. “Sure. I need to stay in here to watch them. I don’t know what will happen when Hiro wakes up.”
Maria was very glad she was alone in the cloning bay. IAN decided to keep her company.
“So guess what?” he asked.
“What?” Maria said, screwing the last clean filter onto the vents.
“That restraining code was a pain in the metaphorical ass. Because while you were adventuring belowdecks I found something.”
“Some logs?” Maria asked hopefully. “Mindmap backups?”
“Personal logs. Some people are better with setting firewalls than others. I found your logs.”
“Well, what did they say?” Maria tried not to show excitement. She was learning that the new and improved—or at least unrestrained—IAN loved stringing them along when he could.
Her own voice, tinny and far away, came through the nearest speaker.
“July twenty-third, 2493. The captain is getting more and more paranoid. She’s gotten it into her mind that we must all confess our crimes so she can know who to trust and who not to. She said if we don’t confess, she will tell our secrets to the rest of the crew.
“I don’t know how she got them. The only people with access to those files are the doctor and, well, me, although I’m not supposed to have them. But I’m not the only one who could be in big trouble with the crew if I’m found out. Hiro’s past is messed up, poor guy. Wolfgang I wouldn’t cross, but I would pay for a front-row seat if he and Katrina ever have a cage match.
“July twenty-fourth, 2493. I keep wondering the point of this timekeeping. Aren’t we going to come up with a new kind of time when we get to Artemis? It’s the day after yesterday anyway.
“Okay, I’m stalling. The captain was attacked today. All I know is it wasn’t me. Joanna found her outside the door to the gardens. She’s in a coma. Even with the tech we have on board, the doc may not be able to heal the brain injury. We can clone a new body, we can alter a personality, but we can’t fix an existing brain. Something wrong with that.
“I suggested we euthanize her and wake up her new clone, but Wolfgang says we won’t have any idea who attacked her if we lose her. So we’re keeping her around for a week to see if she wakes up.
“Look, we all know who the big suspect is. No one has forgotten Paul’s little deep-space freakout our first year into the mission. No one but Paul, of course. Wolfgang hit him so hard he didn’t remember what happened. We watched him for years. He healed, but never showed any sign of violence again. I suppose even for clones twenty-four years is a long time to watch someone for signs of violence. That kind of vigilance gets exhausting.