Nighttime aboard ship differed in subtle ways from daytime. As the captain, Alaya had set the lights to dim and reduced the gravity by .5%. Most spacers slept better in low grav, but dropping things too low could injure people. Finally, she dropped the temperature down from 24 to 21. On the whole, the changes meant anyone could tell what time it was supposed to be by stepping out of their quarters, or from their quarters if they chose to have those changes extend within.
In Alaya’s case, she generally kept the temps low, but the gravity drop was a pleasant relief. Funny how such a small variation could relax her whole body.
Fewer red messages scrolled through her vision now. Though fewer emergency alerts about her cranial matter flashed, some of the now-yellow alerts concerned her. Transplantation, surgery, or magical treatment had to happen. Sooner rather than later. But she was stable for now and just needed to stay out of any fights.
Easy peasy.
The ship’s medical had even cleared her to work today, which was perfect.
McRory — technically Gaz — had smashed Vora to bits. Small enough pieces Alaya couldn’t find everything she needed. But she’d seen the reports about the massive floating ring factories. About the odd rep system the clusters used. Her implants had already set about downloading the ship AI’s and Gaz’s reports.
Marcus had an interest in the One Root. Magic was stupid, amazing, and treacherous. But the theurge had personally gone a long way toward helping Alaya. Saving her brain, really. Most of the red alerts still flashing by indicated progressive failures in her chrome. That stuff could be replaced far more easily than the rest.
With the parts she needed in hand and a chance to configure them into McRory, Alaya had a way to join the group even if she wasn’t currently allowed in the field. They really needed a cybertechnician other than her in their little group. In my “Empire.” Hard to forget this whole thing was happening because Alaya was heir to a debt she’d had no hand in earning.
Best thing about the cluster was that not one of them would care.
“Hey Kirk. How’s things?”
She could feel him spooling up code through the ship. Access to the ship computers and AI had been good for him. But it was hard for her to pinpoint what he was doing even now. A tiny streak of nervousness ran through her. Then he answered. “I’m pretty good actually. And I noticed you were given a provisional clean bill of health.”
“Reading my medicals then? That took longer than I expected.” She was just ribbing him, but Kirk made a decent come back.
“The time delay came from checking to make sure you hadn’t faked those records in case I had to tell on you.”
“Ow.” She held her hand to chest. “You wound me.”
“I know you well enough, even before I knew the rest.”
“The rest” amounted to little enough. Gaz and Alaya had spun legend Beta around themselves. Partial truth, but not enough to lead anywhere important. Alaya owed a lot of money to some bad people. She had to get out, Gaz was helping her because they were friends. The bad person they were following killed Alaya’s parents, but didn’t have anything do with the debt. Truer than their Alpha covers, but still not the whole deal.
Very few people knew the whole truth. Janice. She hadn’t made contact in days, but she had to know about Bahl-Mau. As Alaya might have guessed, getting a station nuked was too toxic even for one of the Loop gentry like Janice. It was better to have that bridge burned now than find out later. That’s what Alaya told herself as she buckled down to her workstation.
“Whatcha doin’ ‘Laya?” A mobile drone cam attached to the ship hovered over Alaya.
“Working on a bit of chrome for you. Maybe for both of us at this rate.”
“Worry about yourself bud. I like living here in the ship. Super safe here.”
“That quartz jar is probably one of the toughest things around, outside the hull or engine shielding.”
“Exactly.” Kirk chuckled with a digital tone. “You can’t leave and I can’t leave. But we can use these sweet little drones to accompany Gaz and Marcus.”
“Marcus is going with her?”
The drone bobbed. “You talked to Gaz since you woke up?”
Ugh. It was a testament to the poor state of Alaya’s mind that she hadn’t realized the ping she’d sent to Gaz upon waking hadn’t been answered yet. “Gaz?” She reached out on a private channel.
“Oh sorry, Alaya, I was engrossed in a full cycle project.” Gaz’s voice worked faster and more effectively than the neurochems now floating around in Alaya’s bloodstream struggling to calm her down.
Curiosity rose in her, but she held it back. When Gaz was ready to share whatever project she was working on, she would. “Can Kirk and I come with you and Marcus piloting drones?”
Another pause. “Of course. You’re cleared for work, just not for leaving the ship or combat.”
“Thanks Gaz.” Alaya hesitated. Pausing, not answering her wake-up ping. This was very un-Gaz-like things. “Everything okay with you?”
“Yes. And no. Riggon’s Cluster is massive and far more dangerous than the station. The monetary system leaves a little to be desired…” Sarcasm leaked from Gaz’s tone. “And we’re tailing someone else flying our ship.”
Weird feeling there, the sense Gaz had changed what she’d originally planned to say and inserted something else. Alaya decided she was imagining things and moved on. “Well, it could be worse. At least here my little curse won’t mean as much.”
Gaz acknowledged her and returned to prepping their departure.
There was a chance Kowal knew they were tailing him and might jump ship the moment they landed. Or he might have already disembarked and wandered off to his destination. Alaya could care less about her flagship. She cared about catching Kowal. She really hoped he left the ship. Otherwise they were playing chicken in void ships. Someone was going to die if that went down. In that event, either the dead person was Alaya or she had to sift through the wreckage looking for Kowal’s cryberbrain and hope it had the information she needed on it.
Chatting with Kirk gave Alaya a sense of peace. The two worked side by side, more or less, fixing drones, checking them to make sure they’d last the whole, and enabling any surprises they might want if a fight did break out. Combat drones, the good ones, were hard enough to come by. What Alaya had in stock gave her a few options for anti-personnel fire, but no options for anti-ship or anti-material. McRory’s weapons wouldn’t fit on a flier. For one of their bigger drones, McRory’s weapons were options. And once they’d exhausted the choices for their normal weapons, Kirk and Alaya worked on a mount for the railgun system McRory’s body had attached to it. More or less attached.
They finished the last few touches on an experimental mount and about an hour later, Gaz sent out the landing count down. Kirk and Alaya cleaned up the area, stowed everything and tied it down. Then Alaya headed off to the conn to see Gaz before she left.
When she reached it, she found Marcus and Gaz leaning next to each other in conference. They stood in the middle of a broadcast simulation depicting the area of space around them. The screen closest to them showed Alaya’s flagship already landed on a broad wooden platform made from thousands of woven stalks. Kowal stood on the wooden platform next to a man in a saffron colored robe, with a bald head. Even from this distance, Alaya could feel the malevolence seeping out of Kowal. The bald headed man bobbed his head, their resolution was good enough to catch the smile cross his face as he turned and led Kowal into a cave in the side of the greenery which sealed up behind them as they disappeared. Leaves spread out from the surrounding canopy and covered Alaya’s flagship in vines and more stems.
A gasp escaped her lips as the woven wooden platform returned, presumably awaiting their landing.
Gaz and Marcus both turned, as if surprised to find Alaya standing there. Gaz at least was sure to have had a coproc notify her of Alaya’s approach, so there was no way she was surprised. As for Marcus, Alaya didn’t know. As suspicious as their appearance was, Alaya ignored it. Marcus had helped speed her recovery and Gaz… Alaya had known Gaz over half her life and there was no one in the verse she trusted more.
“It looks like our target was just eaten by the trees.” Alaya pointed to the screen, trying to lighten the mood. Maybe if she said it like this she’d feel a little bit better. “If we ask nicely do you think they’d let us have him?”
Marcus shook his head and Gaz bounced her eyebrows up as if it was an idea worth considering. Since Alaya had woken up this last time, Gaz had been weird. She was weird now too. Only after the awkward greeting did Gaz run up to Alaya and hug her, something she would have done immediately before. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the oddness. At least her arms were warm and her hug strong. Alaya got her little island of stability and certainty out of it.
“ETA twenty minutes.” Gaz nodded toward the display. “Might as well land and see what the tree people want.”
Marcus snickered and Gaz rolled her eyes. A private joke of some kind. Alaya stomped on the displaced jealousy. “As long as Kirk and I can tag along as drones.”
Both Marcus and Gaz nodded. I wasn’t really asking for your permission, Marcus. Alaya just kept her smile up and tried to remind herself it was really Gaz acting odd and not Marcus. Still, hard not to take it out on him.
Alaya insisted she and Kirk pilot their drones from the loading ramp. It was also the fastest way in or out of the ship if they needed to escape or if they needed to lay down suppressing fire. Gaz was quick to relent, as long as the deal continued to mandate Alaya stay in the ship. The specter of Gaz’s weird behavior stalked the two of them for the whole rest of the prep, up to the ship’s actual landing.
This hug, their parting hug, was a brief denial of all the weirdness. For a glorious lingering space and time, Alaya held Gaz and Gaz held her. Alaya could almost pretend Gaz didn’t just love her like a kid sister or bff, but more. Moments like this, Alaya could pretend this was their normal, the next thing to happen would be a kiss.
Everything lurched back to formal as Alaya let out a long breath when Gaz walked away. Kirks drone had all of its sensors pointed at Alaya and his voice reached her over the short band. “You have it real bad.”
“Shut up Kirk.” Alaya’s drone flew after Gaz. She’d gutted the normal weapon platforms on this particular drone. It had the equivalent of a low power pulse weapon attached, something that might blind or stun a target, but was intended for hostile nanoswarms and other soft targets, such as literal soft human tissues. But only up close and personal. The real payload inside this drone was the hive and control bypass. For a normal operator, controlling a swarm could overwhelm. But Alaya’s implant and a few other specialized cybernetics could offload those controls and ease the strain on her cognition. In other words her drone was packed full of sensory gear and a whole host of micro and nano drones who could be turned to a whole variety of purposes. Including offense and defense.
Kirk’s drone was a zippy little speedster he’d tweaked himself, with only consultation from Alaya. Lightweight, but surprisingly tough, the drone was mostly suspensor generators, sensors, and light weapons platforms.
Kinetic recoil was a real problem on suspensor-mounted drone platforms. Kirk’s solution was a rather elegant and low-weight series of small scale blast engines. He’d stripped them off of a few spare rockets from the mech-weapon Gaz retrieved. They fired to counter-act the weapon recoil and during their testing, the speedy little drone made for one of the most stable weapons platforms Alaya had personally worked with. As good as something purpose fabbed. Kirk had beamed when she told him that. He painted the thing pink and blue with a white racing strip. Alaya’s was dark blue and purple with a few darker shades to disrupt the lines and make the eye slide off of the drone’s carapace.
It might have been pride, but Alaya’s drone would have murdered Kirk’s in the dark. Not because of the stealth, but because those drone hives included repair and ablative systems. He wouldn’t be able to touch her while the rest of the drones either melted his or just took it over.
Their group reached the bottom of their exit ramp and a bald woman wearing saffron robes greeted them, starting with Marcus.
“Honored Pilgrim. You travel with eccentric company.”
Alaya noted Marcus’s wife and kids were back in the ship’s quarter’s still. He bowed back to the woman and said, “I have been meaning to make the journey for many years. Fate intervened and with wroth I’m afraid.”
“It grieves me to hear that, I hope your personal suffering was minimal, brother.” She turned to Gaz. “Honored guest. Your name is Gaz?” she’d either received her introduction packet or a system had translated it for her.
“I am. It is a pleasure to meet you…”
“Ester. Please call me Ester.”
Enough sensors loaded up on her drone to map a new planet and Alaya could not detect a single cyber modification on Ester. Same as with Gaz and Marcus, of course. But Alaya had thought the latter quirky for not choosing cybermodification. Not that this was some kind of religious injunction.
“And your other companions?” Ester looked right into the opticals on Alaya’s drone.
“I’m Alaya.” It was weird to question drones. And it was sheer happenstance both drones even possessed speakers. Sensor packages just tended to include them and pulling them out was more of hassle than it was worth.
“Kirk.”
“Do not feel ashamed or burdensome. Many injured and ill come to seek our aid in many forms.” She split her attention between the drones. “Our surgeons are solar-rated and though many faithful abjure cyberization for personal reasons, many more embrace the technology as one of the great paths forward for all humanity.” She looked at Kirk. “And it simply the case that some conditions may only be treated with extensive cyber-reconstruction.”
“We’re here for the guy you just let in.” As generous and tempting as her offer sounded Alaya was here for one reason. Besides, Ester didn’t mention price. Which meant Alaya and her team couldn’t afford it.
“I’m sorry, but we do not share information about guests without permission. Would you like me to query our other guest to see if they would care to speak with you?”
“No!” Alaya spat the answer out the moment she had a pause.
“Mmm, then I am afraid I cannot help you.”
“What about my ship…”
Alaya’s question was cut off by Gaz, over shortband. “Now’s probably not the time.”
“Your ship will be placed in the holding area. The others aboard are welcome to disembark at any time.” Ester swept her hand toward the forest wall, the same direction Kowal had gone. “If you will follow me?” I’ve arranged to have our infoNet profile shared with each of you.”
Information flooded over her coprocessors, already hitting peak use from drone control. Alaya shifted the job of reading and assimilating the information to a low priority system and followed Ester into the darkened wood.
The moment the leaves closed behind them little bulbs shaped like inverted flowers lit. They kept the relative light level the same as it had been outside. A quick review of her recorded data showed Alaya how the platform had been carefully lit by indirect flowers the whole time. Clever and tasteful.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Having grown up in rotational gravity and spent more time in artificial than on a rock, Alaya had no trouble adjusting to the way the orientation of down followed the wooden platform they floated over. Artificial separation created by the drone controls and limiters Alaya herself had set in the drones would have kept her from getting disoriented.
Leaves formed the walls, most of them felt incredibly soft to the touch and shook lightly when Alaya’s probes stroked them. No one rebuked her, so she recorded that sensation and beamed it directly back to her body.
“Have you come to view the Work, Pilgrim?” Ester did not turn back as she posed her question.
“If I may, I would be honored.”
She nodded her head without changing pace or so much as flicking back toward the others. “Of course. We will arrange accommodations for those of you who care to stay within the Root.” Turning abruptly, Ester stopped when a set of leaves parted for them. “I hope the room pleases you. The Root responds to intentions and should lead you where you need to go. Should those of you aboard your ship wish to join the others or partake of our amenities.”
Gaz and Marcus had stopped in front of a massive room, larger than any kind of living quarters Alaya had ever seen in her life. Comparable only to large public spaces, the moldering islands from her youth aboard a cylinder, those were bigger than this. But not by a meaningful degree. A great sphere opened before them. Furniture, all of it wooden and seemingly grown out of the surface of the walls or floor covered the area. Spindly vines and branches rose up, wrapped in leaves Alaya guessed would close to offer residents privacy and partition the space. Nothing but the very center of the room was “wasted” in terms of space, but only advanced artificial gravity would provide livable room in a sphere like this.
Gaz hopped in and ascended to what appeared to be a floor level up, directly next to the entrance. She tilted her head. “It’s not as strange as I would have thought.”
Ester smiled, pleased at Gaz’s assessment. “Our aim is to make the rooms as comfortable as possible. The Pilgrim’s family will stay in nearby apartments?”
Marcus looked between Gaz and the saffron-robed guide. “That sounds good. They’re safe here?”
Ester bowed her head. “In the name of the Powers and the Word, no harm shall befall them, even as repayment for debt or as a result of uncivil conduct.”
“I’m satisfied.” Marcus folded his arms. He used the private channel, “Alaya?”
“I’ll let Yiska and the girls know.” Back out loud Alaya said, “and the rest of us?”
“As long as you bring no violent reprisals upon the Root and do not attempt to directly or indirectly harm the Root, we shall happily shelter you here.”
“The same way you’re harboring a pirate?” Alaya couldn’t help it.
“Your anger is a palpable thing. And perhaps even merited. But we do not interfere with temporal matters here. As long as the Root remains safe, we remain neutral. And all of our efforts coalesce around trying to keep the Root safe.”
It was just an excuse. “It’s not my fault murders used my taxi, my gun, my hospital. I serve all people equally.” Alaya wanted to punch people like that. No one thought murders deserved the same rights as everyone else. But no one was wiling to be the person who pulled the trigger.
“Thank you, Ester. I will talk to my companions for now. Is there perhaps food?” Gaz knew the way around Alaya’s moods and piques. And she could obviously tell Alaya had more coming in terms of sharing her opinions.
Ester turned and bowed as she stood next to Marcus. “Please consider our cybersurgical offerings. Few other vendors are as willing to work with zero-reputation visitors and our services are truly top class.”
With that she turned and led Marcus down the hallway to another set of leaf doors. Alaya marked the place they vanished and then passed through the entrance to their rooms. A brief moment of reorientation and Alaya gained a newfound appreciation for the size of the room.
Branches and vines twisted up next to her and Alaya took a step back. After a second they solidified and stilled, forming a pedestal in the center of the room. The voice which spoke from the pedestal was soft and inviting. “We are the Root. We offer our services. Many bed and furniture configurations are available. If you have a schematic, we are capable of decoding most modern data formats.”
Alaya’s drone shifted to Gaz and back. “We need at least three beds, right?” There were times when Alaya and Gaz would have shared a bed, out of necessity or because Alaya craved another’s contact and would struggle to sleep without. But Kirk was here as a perfect third wheel. An ancient and tenacious metaphor, ironic since a third wheel would provide stability.
“A kitchen and a workspace.” Gaz offered her suggestions.
“Sim room, work shop, and cybersurgical facilities.” The last had been something of a lark, but the wood formed a complex bed, operating shelves, and what appeared to be digital link connections for working with nano surgical tools and other systems. The work shop was even more impressive. Kirk’s bot whistled as he hovered over to it.
“I want to ask them for a body. Can I bring myself in here?”
Gaz met Alaya’s optics. It was her permission to give or deny. She’d gone and made Kirk forsake his body in the first place. And he needed someone with resources and skill to help him anyway. But Alaya didn’t want to give them leverage agains them. Now was not the time to just agree to their requests.
“Let’s hold off until we’re sure about these people. We’ve met one and she’s got to be on her best behavior.” Alaya scanned the room, it probably smelled incredible considering what her chem probes detected. “This place is nice. But let’s just give it a little time and see what they want from us.”
“They didn’t say they wanted anything.”
Now this was what Alaya had expected when she invited Kirk along. He was a dock drudge and kept man almost from birth. Even through he’d been neck deep in the gangs since infancy, he’d never played the game the way Gaz and Alaya had. Even Gaz was shaking her head at Kirk’s naivety. Alaya said, “depends on how they work. But you heard the rep thing she mentioned. It’s what passes for currency around here. No chance the keepers of the Root or whatever are going to give us anything they don’t have endless supplies of without paying.”
Based on their rooms, the Root clerics had endless space within the confines of their massive construction. What did they lack? What could they possibly want from Alaya and her friends? Gaz was valuable, so was Alaya’s implant — sort of — Kirk was the only one of them who, though talented, did not possess anything of worth. He didn’t even have a body of his own right then.
Maybe stopping him from getting something new is the wrong move. We should at least sleep on it. It wasn’t like Alaya was gatekeeping Kirk’s body out of jealousy or some self-serving motive. She wanted to make sure these Root people really weren’t monsters. Letting someone perform surgery on one’s brain required trust. Alaya trusted Gaz, who’d performed or observed all of Alaya’s installations.
“We’re staying on the ship tonight.” Alaya made the pronouncement.
Kirk’s sleek little drone bobbed and settled on the pedestal. “Really only need one bed then.”
Alaya snapped away from the drone, unhappy with their introduction to the Root. Calling up the ship optics, she found nothing but foliage and branches barring her way. They were enclosed in a tree room just large enough for their ship. No way to look out and no way to leave, not without clearance from the Root.
At least they were safe. Unless the threat came from the root itself. Not exactly comforting. Rather than waste her time here, Alaya read over the infoNet packet from the Root. Most of it was common sense: no unprovoked assault, no stealing, no bribery of Root clergy. There was a weird one: no killing of any kind. Not in self defense, not to save someone else’s life. It made her flash back of her father’s old stories, to his faded morality. To him there had been no such thing as justifiable murder, no such thing as a righteous killing. Mother had sought the fringes of society to escape her legacy of debt. Father had left because his version of right and wrong simply did not function in the modern world of bloodsport and cheap death. Rules or not, Alaya had found her own way. A disappointment to both of her parents, if she had to steal or kill to save her own life or Gaz’s life, Alaya wouldn’t even think twice. Dozens of chances to offer the other guy a peaceful way out, to seek a bloodless compromise over her life. And she’d chosen each time to kill them before they killed her or Gaz.
Oh well.
She wasn’t okay with how Bahl-Mau went down, but she was glad Vora died. She hoped it was for good.
With Gaz and the others enjoying the Root clerics’ hospitality, Alaya found herself unable to sleep. Restlessness kept her tossing and turning for ten minutes before she considered cheating and using her cyberware. All of those red and yellow alerts made the prospect of tapping into her systems just a bit daunting.
But if she wanted to aid in her own recovery, she’d need to sleep despite the incredible amounts of the stuff she’d enjoyed the last week or so. Microseconds before she initiated a soporific, a proximity alarm sounded.
Alaya jolted upright from her bed, so engrossed in the self-medicating it took her a moment to figure out the source of the alarm: the ship. Not her flagship, wouldn’t that be nice, but the ship she’d stolen from the tourist on Balh-Mau. The ship she was trying unsuccessfully to sleep in.
“Kirk!” Alaya sent a private chat.
“Cameras show nothing, the Dhingris are all in bed and I’ve alerted the ship AI to level 1. They’re stuck in their quarters.” Kirk had done more than Alaya had considered, before her brain had recovered from the shock. “What next, boss?”
You’re in charge from now on, I’m going back to sleep. Alaya ignored her own rambling thoughts and sent Gaz a short beam warning her they had an intruder, in case the intruder was Gaz. It wasn’t. Whoever they were, they showed up as a fuzzy shadow on the external ship optics. “Arm the weapons and see if we can’t at least prop McRory up and make him look intimidating.”
“What about the mount we setup?”
“Oh right,” how’d she forgotten about that? “Get the rocket pod attacked and have the hound stand next to McRory at the entrance. Let’s hope our guest prefers doors to making holes in our ship.” Whoever this was, a mech’s rocket systems aimed at their face would be a significant deterrent.
“Should we really just open the door, boss?” Kirk’s question was a fair one, but Alaya had committed.
“It’s fine. We have a lot of guns.” She held an small caliber anti-personnel weapon on the door as she sent the AI the open instructions.
Nothing.
Ship scanners on full power, Alaya had the hound and even McRory’s scanners all pinging away at the opening, ready for the appearance of anyone.
Sweat trickled down Alaya’s brow and along the side of her nose, hitting her eyes and making them sting. Autonomic controls locked down her eyelids and held her steady. Or steady-ish.
“I would have advised against opening the door myself.” The voice sounded next to Gaz’s head.
She screamed internally, scared out of her wires as she spun on the shadowy figure who’d suddenly resolved next to her. How they’d gotten the drop on her did not even enter her consciousness.
And he stopped her with two fingers.
One hit her in the jaw, right in the soft spot next to the natural crease in the bone. The second hit her in the shoulder and sent a nerve-jarring shock through her entire body. Systems flashed red and went black.
Like being hit with a targeted EMP.
Alaya’s chest hurt, but her body still functioned. They’d failed to knock her out. “Try this on, mothrfucker… I, Alaya of the Alaya…” they hit her in the throat. It didn’t even hurt, not really. But it sent her vocal chords into a paroxysm.
Static sounded over her comms as Alaya activated portions of her implant anyway. “‘Laya?
“Kirk call Gaz!” Alaya couldn’t tell whether her signal got out.
The figure took a dramatic breath. “I really did mean to make contact peacefully.” They — their voice had a kind of mid-tone androgyny Alaya could not specify — tapped Alaya on the center of her forehead and Alaya found herself in a checkered floor simulation. Now in the same relative position, the person over her appeared to be a gray-skinned doll with interlocking sections which folded under themselves at the joints. “This is easier. I am Evan. Janice sent me to aid you.”
Silver-blue light streaked from a plane at Evan’s back and formed the shape of an inverted mountain, marked with the imprint of a jagged lightning bolt. A data packet flew to Alaya through her Loop Implant. “What’s this?”
It was signed by another Loop Charter holder: “Evan the Shadow of the Nameless Confederacy.” They were a sworn nation to Lady Janice of the Eternal Mountain. According to her own Loop Implant’s instructions, to the recordings her mother left her, this was one of the main uses of the Looper Charters, one of the features which had set them apart and made alliance between them profitable: absolute, positive identification among each other. Only one person could claim to be Evan of the Shadow, only one could be Janice. There was no doubt.
“Oh thank the gods.”
Evan tilted their head back and forth. “That is one group. The Root Clergy would certainly approve. Though they will be less enthused about the defenses you’ve erected on your ship. I suggest dismantling them. We are completely safe here.”
“You got aboard!”
“First, you opened the door. Second, I know and can sense every one of my kind in the area. If they come within ten kilometers, I will insist they explain themselves and I will raise a warning for the rest of you.”
“Your kind?”
The white-skinned figure tilted their head. “Based on your recorded profile, I would have expected you to figure it out by now.” Evan leaned in closer and those white eyes now glowed pale green. “May I examine you? Something appears to be damaged.”
Alaya trusted the implant to a limited extent. “What do you mean?”
“I promise I will act as a physician only. I will not discuss my findings or cause you any harm.” Promises between Loop Charter holders had a certain weight to them. Alaya was still uncertain. “If your implants are damaged, I am a Technomancer. I might be able to repair them.”
She almost jerked away at the name. No wonder her optics had failed to pick Evan up, no wonder they’d been able to do what they had. Arcane wonders in possession of a supernatural connection to machinery, technomancers were both feared and revered as marvels of genetic engineering. “I can’t stop you anyway, right?”
Evan put their hands on their hips. “Perhaps, but that only makes getting permission more important. If you do not wish me to check your prostheses and repair them, I will not insist. The only thing I insist on was this meeting and the opportunity to deliver Janice’s message.”
“What’s her message?”
Evan raised a hand and Janice appeared as if in a hologram. She bent over, fiddled with something at knee level, flickered and stood up holding a cup of coffee. “Alaya. Good to see you well.” It was a recording, but she winked as she spoke. “I’m sending Evan as an aide-de-camp. They are efficient, trustworthy, and exceedingly useful. I wish I had three. You can trust them the way you trust me, which I guess is something we should discuss again sometime.” Another wink. “Be careful and do try to stay out of trouble dear.” The image ended with Janice’s symbol, the mountain and lightning bolt.
Without a face, it was hard to gauge Evan’s reaction to the news they’d be serving Alaya. It wasn’t exactly horror, but then again no face. Alaya had the distinct impression of surprise from their body language. And then as if with a snap of their fingers, Evan relaxed and appeared to accept their fate. “As I said, I would be honored to examine you and help in any way I can.”
“Fine. Be gent…” This time Alaya did lose consciousness briefly. Most of the red alerts were gone now, a few lingered and Alaya couldn’t help but read them. All of them warned of progressive brain trauma and the potential for damage. A few yellow alerts warned of impending system collapse, giving her weeks to find replacement neurals before she started losing memories or suffering ego degradation. Much better prognosis than a few seconds ago. “What happened?”
“I repaired the damage to your existing cyberware.” She was out of the simulation and back in the real world staring up at Evan’s cyborg frame. “I am not particularly skilled with organics. Neither installation nor service. But if the components are already installed, then I am more than sufficient.”
“No kidding.”
“You will die without replacement components or a vat rejuvenation.” Evan was rather frank. “And your jar-bound friend, would you like me to wake him up?”
“Sure. So… you’re not a cybersurgeon, but you are a Technomancer?”
“Indeed. Each of us has our specialties. I am adept at manipulating in-place systems, repairing, taking control of them, enhancing and altering my own cyborg chassis.” They raised their hand and a sparkling, flame arose on their palm which shed glitter through their fingers. “My arcane abilities are related to my technological link, of course.”
“You’re a combat Technomancer.” It wasn’t a question.
“Correct. My original training was in infiltration. But until the last century or so most of my experience was in combat.”
One more soldier. And a magic one at that. Was Janice worried or was she just protecting her investment? Evan had snapped their fingers and fixed Alaya’s broken cyberware. It solved part of her problem, gave her a few more weeks of brain health before things turned bad. But it still left her in the lurch. “I don’t suppose you have a crazy amount of credits lying around?”
“I do, but that will not avail us much here. My reputation with the Riggon Cluster is technically lower than your own.”
“What? How do you know that?”
Evan didn’t look annoyed or bothered with Alaya. “Ping the infoNet beacon and request your current reputation. You can request anyone’s, as long as you know their cluster ID, which you can also retrieve by looking at them. Try it with me.”
She was supposed to have reviewed this information, why did it feel so new? Pinging both the infoNet beacon and Evan was trivial. Alaya had two points of reputation. One for accepting the infoNet packet and one from Ester the cleric.
Evan’s rep was 1. As Alaya watched though, Evan’s rep ticked up to six.
“What happened?”
Evan waggled their eyebrows. “I’d love to tease you and say I messed with the datastore but I did not. Riggon’s Cluster employs two full time Technomancers to protect their reputation and security networks.” Evan tapped something and sent an image to Alaya. It was of the last entry in the infoNet packet, which contained a signed receipt for having read the entire packet, which Evan had redeemed for five more rep points.
Alaya opened up her own packet and found the same section, redeemed her signature for the five rep points. “I guess this is a good way to ensure people both read the packet and can’t later claim they didn’t.” She set two different coprocessors to reviewing and summarizing the information.
“I don’t know that you’ll get anything for it, but you might also read the Root Clergy’s packet.” Evan. “They really do not want you to kill anyone aboard their plant.”
Alaya sighed. She’d heard it often enough. “Why did Janice send you exactly?”
“I understand you encountered a problem at a space station. A space station which no longer technically exists.”
A drone zoomed into the room, armed with several pistols and a rifle. It was hastily cobbled together and might only fire once before spinning off in a random direction. “Stay right there, buddy!” Kirk’s voice broadcast out of the drone.
Both Evan and Alaya groaned. The aide-de-camp spoke. “I thought we already discussed this. I am here to help.”
“Right. Did he mind control you, ‘Laya?”
“I prefer do prefer “they,” not that I would insist.”
Alaya cracked a smile at Evan’s response. “Settle down, Kirk. Believe it or not, I trust the person who sent Evan here. If that person is messing with me, that’s because they decided to play with their food before eating it.”
“You’re sure. It said it was a wizard.”
“Oh please, not “it.” They, I prefer they.” Evan examined their fingers, the shadow form completing dropping for the first time. Their skin was pale like milk and their hair was dark and braided into a long tail which wove around their shoulders. Some high-class designer had woven together the features of Evan’s face. Their eyes were blue and softly curved. In the simulation their body had seams and borders carved into the flesh. Here in the real, they looked human but for the perfection of their form. It gave away the illusion to the observant.
Both Kirk and Alaya had fallen silent while they stared at Evan. They wore a long black coat of synthetic leather, pants of the same with a button up white shirt.
“Are you a lady?”
“Kirk, shh.” Alaya rebuked him, embarrassed at his backwater behavior. “Sorry Evan.”
“Allow me to apologize. I spend a good deal of time in the shadows, I tend to overlook the effect my chassis has on people.”
If Alaya had a high class body like that, she would have flaunted it. The same with a sleek ship of the line. Tourist ships were too… fake, too “I picked up this hobby and dropped more in a week than most make in a lifetime” for Alaya to enjoy it. Her ace show-off ship flew the flag of a certain pirate band. And she’d need all the help she could get to recover it. “Welcome to the team, Evan.”