“If it takes more than a week to fix the synchronizer, we’ve wasted our time staying here,” I say. “If it takes less, then great.”

  “We need to split the difference, Gray,” Rozik says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You go to Bruxton and I wait here. If the synchronizer comes back online before you arrive, I’ll be in touch with the CAS and we’ll start putting things in motion. Perhaps Amelia or Kratz here can contact Bruxton and tell them you’re on your way and why.”

  “They’ll never believe them,” I reply. “And if you get a message off ahead of me, how do I know it won’t be to defend the Commune and let the banshees have their way with the Alliance?”

  “Are you taking your pain meds again? That’s ridiculous. Besides, if you arrive first, I’m trusting you to do the right thing.”

  I’m suddenly ashamed of my comment. The mistrust runs deep, but Rozik hasn’t earned it. He’s done everything he’s said he would.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. It might be the best option we have.”

  “You need to get your freighter away from my station,” Amelia says. “Take it to Bruxton. Let them deal with whatever chases after it.”

  “It’ll need a few repairs before it’s ready to go,” I say.

  “I’ll have them prioritized.”

  “And I don’t want to send it to Bruxton.”

  “No?”

  “The idea is to get the banshees off our tail, not lead them to another occupied planet.”

  “You led them here.”

  Both Amelia and my eyes flick over to Rozik.

  “Don’t act so hurt, Miss Rocklin,” Rozik says, unfazed by her accusing glare. “We all know what this place is. We also know it’s population and overall value to the rest of the Sphere. It was the right decision at the time.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I agree with Gray. We should take the freighter away from the station, set a course for deep space, and send it on its way.”

  Amelia hesitates before swallowing her indignation and nodding. “You’ll need another ship.”

  “I was thinking maybe your grandfather’s corvette?” I say.

  She sighs and nods again. “If that’s what it takes to keep this place safe, so be it.”

  I turn to Kratz. “How long will it take you to put an estimate on a fix for the synchronizer?”

  “Give me two hours to get a visual on the data. Chairwoman, I’d like to request the help of the techs.” He points to the three techs who are still sitting at their stations like they don’t know what to do.

  “Requisition whatever you need,” Amelia says. “Get it done as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Contact me and Commander Stone as soon as you have something.”

  “Roger that, ma’am.”

  Amelia turns to me and Rozik. “In the meantime, it seems like you two have a couple hours of waiting in store. I could use some help shoring up station security before someone gets into life support.”

  Chapter 33

  Me and Rozik split from Amelia and Yari after we leave the synchronizer. We spend the first half-hour walking together in silence, making our way through the core by hitting each of the most valuable decks in turn to make sure the corridors are clear and there’s nobody near any of the delicate equipment that shouldn’t be there. Amelia locks down the elevators to make the process easier, and since I have full access I can override the lockouts by swiping my comm.

  We’re forty minutes in when we get our first report of a problem. Not surprisingly, it comes from outside the armory. We’re fortunate the people guarding the weapons cache are indifferent to who’s in charge of the station—like Kratz said earlier—doing it for the chrome. They seal it up upon Amelia’s order, and they stick with it when a squad of goons still loyal to Amelin tries to get in to upgrade their firepower. Some remote manipulation of the elevators gets a squad of soldiers who still want a regular paycheck up there, and by the time me and Rozik get there the fight is over and there are four dead idiots messing up the passageway.

  We pull some of the defenders into two units and split up, with Rozik ascending the station and me descending. In the beginning I’m a little nervous the mercenaries I take are going to shoot me in the back, but they don’t know who I am and how much I would be worth to them. Otherwise that fear might be realized.

  We make our way back to the security control room. The two techs Amelin assigned to break the lock I put on the door are still there. They’ve got the security panel face off and the wires pulled out, the whole thing a big messy tangle. If they hadn’t touched it, I could punch in the code I set and get the cameras and everything back online. It’s useless in its current state, and I tell them to put the whole thing back together.

  From there, I check on the main reactor control and continue down, only stopping at two additional floors before reaching the brig where Sasha Rocklin brought Rozik for safekeeping. The area is designed for easy monitoring, the control center accessible from the elevator and wrapping around the spine of the cylinder. It offers a three-sixty view of the cells that form two staggered rings around it. A good portion of the cells are visible from the control center, plus there are cameras in every cell, though they’re offline at the moment. A quick review shows me there are nearly two dozen prisoners in the block, including Sasha Rocklin.

  I consider leaving without speaking to her, but then I remember what Rozik said about her possibly knowing what the tech did to the synchronizer. Considering the importance of our waiting communications, I decide to give her a chance to be helpful.

  She’s sitting on her bunk with her knees pulled to her chest when I arrive. The cell’s a standard design, nothing unnecessarily fancy, just metal bars and an electronic lock. She looks up at me, her eyes teary, her face angry.

  “You know about your husband, then?” I say.

  “Son of a bitch. You didn’t have to kill him,” she replies.

  “I didn’t kill him,” I say. “Rozik did.”

  “And that makes a difference? He’s still dead.”

  I don’t have anything nice to say in response, so I ignore the statement and switch the subject. “The synchronizer is offline.”

  She straightens up, lowering her legs, her lips pursing. “Oh?”

  It’s the most venomous “oh” I’ve ever heard. She’s not the least bit surprised.

  “A nice piece of sabotage, I admit. Clever, and well-executed.”

  “Dorea is a friend of mine.”

  I don’t know the name. It must be the tech. “Loyal to you and your husband. Do you know how the virus works?”

  “I might. Not that I’ll tell you.” She pauses. “Odin Longknife. What cruel twist of the fates brought you here to mess things up for me and Amie?”

  “I keep asking myself the same thing. I’d rather be home with my family, but we don’t usually get what we want. Only what the gods and the fates decide for us.”

  “If you believe in that garbage.”

  “Didn’t you just reference the fates?”

  “It’s an expression, not a statement of belief.”

  Maybe not for her. Call me superstitious, but my life has been too much ordered chaos to not see something bigger stirring the pot. Usually to make my life worse.

  “Look,” I say. “Your husband’s dead. I’m sorry it had to be that way. You know what will happen to Naraka with the synchronizer offline. How it’ll mess with supply lines.”

  “Of course. That’s why we prepared the hack in the event of an emergency, like Miss Bitch herself gaining control of the station. I don’t know what face she’s showing you, Odin, but I guarantee you’ll never see the real Amelia Rocklin.”

  I hesitate to reply. Is she giving me real information or trying to erode the stability of me and Amelia’s working relationship? There’s no real way for me to know. “Why don’t you tell me what she’s like? Because I saw what your husband was up to, and he didn’t come across like the sweetest apple either.”

  “We all have flaws. Amelin had plenty. Yes, he was willing to risk the station to expand his grip on power and increase his holdings. How do you think the AOP became so powerful? The Commune? Both sides started on Earth and expanded to the stars. Governments laid their claims, fought one another over single planets, and eventually began to form alliances that are still in play today. The AOP and the Commune are both sick. Amelin wanted to bring a third government into the equation, starting with the ghost planets. He might have done it too, given more time.”

  “By sending pirates after supply ships?”

  “Your arrival was unscheduled. That makes you fair game in any ghost system. Amelia won’t admit it, but she might have done the same if she hadn’t been busy hiding.” She pauses and catches my eyes with hers. “But then, you’re making a habit of destroying potential solutions to endless war, aren’t you? Did the ones who gave you your call sign know what you would become? How apropos the name would be?”

  It’s the same inescapable accusation, and I don’t want to be bothered with it. “You say Amelia Rocklin can’t be trusted. Prove it.”

  “You know I can’t. Not here. Not now. But she’ll show her true colors sooner or later.”

  “You can work with me in good faith. It’ll make you a hell of a lot more believable. Tell me how to fix the synchronizer.”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

  I stare at her for a moment. I’m certain if I send Rozik down here then he can get her to talk. But I’m not convinced she knows anything. I’m not convinced anything she says is true. She has no real reason to help me, but plenty of motivation to throw me off-balance.

  “I hope you enjoy spending the rest of your life down here then,” I say, turning away from her. In the back of my mind, I think maybe she’ll call me back and try to negotiate.

  She doesn’t.

  “Good luck with Amelia,” she says instead. “You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 34

  “Commander Stone,” Amelia says, her voice sharp through my comm badge. “Dock Control reports the repairs to your freighter are complete. I’d appreciate if you’d get it away from Naraka Station as soon as possible.”

  “Wilco,” I reply. “I’m not sure how to get back to the docks from the core.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Headed for the synchronizer to check on Kratz.”

  “Why didn’t you just chirp him?”

  “I like to do some things in person.”

  “Fine. I’ll send Yari up to meet you. She can guide you back to the docks.”

  “Yari?”

  “Isn’t that what you hired her for in the first place?”

  She has a point, though it was Rozik’s idea, not mine. “Confirmed. I’ll meet her here in five minutes. Stone out.”

  I tap the comm to disconnect at the same time the elevator comes to a stop. I step out into the synchronizer, following it around to the control room. The bodies of both Dorea and Chao are gone, Dorea’s VR terminal cleaned and blood-free. The three techs are still in place at their seats, goggles on their faces. Kratz is standing in front of them, giving them directions.

  “Do you see it?” he asks.

  “Yes,” one of the techs replies. “I think I’ve got it. Sir, it’s spread to nearly every subsystem in the buffer.”

  “I know. That’s what it was designed to do. We need to either cut it out of each system manually, or devise a tool to automate the process.”

  “Chief Engineer Kratz,” I say, coming up behind him. He shakes slightly before turning and coming to attention.

  “Commander Stone. Sir, I’d like to make a request.”

  “What is it?”

  “Can you please start wearing a bell, or at least cough or something when you come up behind me?”

  I smile. “Noted for next time. At ease, Chief. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “Okay, I took the chip out of the bra and managed to get it hooked up to an isolated terminal for review. Of course, the chip itself was encrypted and it took me nearly an hour just to break through that. The code itself is relatively straight-forward. It references a dictionary of runtime methods and inserts malicious code when those methods are executed, replacing them with dummy versions that don’t return faults but also don’t execute completely. The virus itself is only a few hundred lines, very elegant, really. Genius in its simplicity.”

  “But you can fix it,” I say.”

  “Oh, of course. Yes, sir.”

  “How long?”

  “We’re working on that. The problem isn’t the virus we can see. It’s the virus we can’t see. It also copies itself into available memory so even if we remove it from existing code it can write itself back in. In that case, an automated tool would help but it would be a race to keep the malicious instructions out, and could ultimately cause an overload or make the whole thing overheat. That would take us offline for weeks.”

  “We don’t have weeks.”

  “No, sir. We’re working on the problem now. Whatever we devise will need to be carefully constructed and robustly implemented.”

  “How long?” I repeat. He’s hesitant to give me an estimate. “Assuming we go with the least stable, riskiest, quickest fix?”

  “You don’t want to do that, sir, it’s—”

  “How long?”

  “Two days at least, working without a break.”

  “That’s too long.”

  “I know, Commander. I don’t want to overpromise and underdeliver.”

  “How about just promising and delivering normally?”

  “Four days to get the synchronizer able to send. I can’t promise it’ll receive, and I can’t guarantee it’ll stay online for more than a few minutes until we can come up with a proper fix.”

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  Kratz considers for a moment before nodding. “Yes, sir.”

  “Even if I promise you a shipload of chrome to get it done faster?”

  He smiles. “Chrome can’t make my brain, eyes or hands work any faster or make me give more than one hundred percent.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Good answer, Chief. Four days. Get it done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I turn around. Yari’s standing right behind me, and I flinch slightly at the unexpected sight of her. She’s traded her dirty, sparkly suit for something more low-key—black utilities that make her look like a fashionable ninja, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She already looks more like Amelia, and it’s only been a couple of hours since they headed off together.

  “Commander,” she says, coming to attention the way she’s seen Kratz do it. It’s a little sloppy, but not bad.

  “Stand down, Ensign,” I reply. “I need you to take me to the docks. Back to Valhalla.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says. “If you’ll follow me.” She’s enjoying herself, treating her new situation almost as if it’s a game. Maybe that’s the only way she can process everything she’s experienced in the last few hours. I know I’ve felt like that at times in my lifetime.

  We return to the elevator. I swipe my comm. “Which deck?” I ask.

  “Eighty,” she replies. “We don’t have to go back through the conduits. We can take the central habitation ring out to the first stage interlock, from there to extension C-12, down to the second stage and then out to the docks where we met.”

  “How do you know so much about the station layout?”

  “Dart had access to the full station schematics. He made me study them. Knowledge is power. Intel is chrome. He used to say that a lot, even though he never studied anything. He just made me do it.”

  We take the elevator to Deck Eighty, and from there walk to the outer ring and around to the spoke connection on the starboard side of the cylinder. I sealed all of the access points from the still-locked security room, but the habitation doors have all been locally overridden to allow people in and out. Amelia’s got guards monitoring them, but they don’t question Yari and me as we waltz through and step onto the mover that speeds us quickly across.

  Entering the main habitation ring provides me with my first look at the longer-term residents of the station. They’re moving through the sections of the ring as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring a spoke away, mostly ignorant to the Rocklin power struggle and the death of one of the twins. They’re pretty much like any population of humans anywhere in the Sphere. A mix of gender and age and socioeconomic status. The main difference between them and the people up in the commissary is that they’re primarily the honest type, though they cater their services and needs to those on the station. Doctors, dentists, personal trainers, retailers and more.

  Visible through the tangled web of metal supports lining the center of the ring, I watch them move around the ring’s curve and across the ten decks that compose the full height of the area.

  Yari and me take a bridge through the central web—a shorter corridor that connects the ring to what Yari refers to as extension C-12—to the furthermost outer point of the ring where an airlock has been patched in. Both sides of it are currently open, allowing a smooth flow of traffic from the ring to the outer modules that compose the greater station. I can see the security checkpoint at the far end, though evidence of the former barricades is already gone.

  We approach the checkpoint, bypassing the short lines moving in both directions. One of the guards tries to block us until I let him check my comm badge. His eyes widen in surprise at a stranger’s access level, but he nods and waves us through without complaint.