“If the nanites don’t self-destruct on completion, they will be in the same fucking firing line as us.”

  “A risk for a risk. This has to end now, Savotini.” His fists slammed into the table.

  “You still have an ice cream smile,” said Tremil, and she gently rubbed at Heki’s face, smudging and then removing the dregs of an ice cream sundae. She also felt the false sugar zing about her own system. But there was no denying it had been worth it. A chance to say goodbye to Nicky, whose mouth said one thing and her emotions another. Not self-loathing for refusing to come, that wasn’t her style. More a need to show Savvo how she felt, but unable to do so while the girls were around. They had said their goodbyes, leaving Savvo to whatever loved-up needs he had. Two of Hannos’ less obtrusive gang members hung behind them at Savvo’s insistence.

  “Thanks,” Heki said, raising an eyebrow and pointing to Tremil’s chin. “Might need to eradicate your own piece of evidence.”

  Tremil wiped her chin on her flight suit sleeve and turned about, eyeing the airlock and then the mag-loader she and Heki dragged behind them. Filled with multiple mods and equipment from the Sunstar, the centrepiece was the 3D printer Kefi had informed them vehemently they wouldn’t be needing. It wasn’t mistrust of the alien that meant it sat there, more their familiarity with the equipment. That, and having only a few days to get the dropship as safe as they possibly could for what was to come. Most of the other equipment was already on board the Unpronounceable.

  “You think the Sunstar will be okay?” said Heki as the airlock cycled open.

  “It’s a ship,” replied Tremil, giving Heki the most placating smile she could. It was far from the truth. The Sunstar was their home, their haven, a part of their lives they could not be without. “You know, to serve a purpose. Wendt has more time now, and when we’re done and the Butcher gone, Kefi has promised,” Tremil stepped out of the airlock and guided the mag-loader ahead towards the doors below, “to sort all the structural issues out Senti style. Besides, after Fareport, Depra said filters are shot.”

  Heki waved a goodbye to the two guards, sending happy thoughts their way that Tremil picked up, rather than the nervous twitch she had been exuding since they took their roles. Nobody trusted the Bustan nor Tensei right now.

  The mag-loader attached to the dropship airlock shield, and after descending, the twins cycled inside to be met by the assigned co-pilot and pilot who looked as nervous as two plastic ducks in one of Dricks’ duck shoots. Tremil dragged the mag-loader, upping its power, into the passenger and equipment section of the rear hold, while Heki switched her empathic abilities onto the two worried Navy personnel. Since Rebekah had …Damn. Tremil swallowed and pressed the sudden grief down. It wasn’t helping Heki. Since they had become alone, they had wielded their empathic will with more freedom. Necessity, as they saw it, without Rebekah’s shield to keep them safe. Forced to make difficult decisions, including mistakes, for themselves. Scarily, it was becoming second nature, and recently she had found herself manipulating Savvo and Nicky unconsciously. It was a dangerous path, and Rebekah would have steered them from it. Explained the wrongness.

  But she wasn’t here. And the world had gone to shit.

  Somewhere in the mire would be the right path … she hoped.

  Tremil clamped the loader and checked over the mods until satisfied they were safely stored. By the time that was complete, they were ready to detach, and the co-pilot stood behind Savvo, who had finally boarded and taken up the vacated seat. The pilot ran over the usual procedures, and soon they were away from the station and in the black. Here, Savvo worked through several hands-on simulations controlling the dropship, including multiple runs at what Arin had termed the ‘doughnut of destruction’. A tear welled, and both Navy personnel flinched before Tremil caught herself.

  Eventually, the pilot shrugged. “As good as you’re gonna be in the time you have.” He drew up the atmosphere control icons on the screen. “These will auto-adjust the system to atmospheric conditions. On the fly too. Just set it to automatic. Don’t even think about flying one of these babies manually in atmosphere without a year’s training, get me?”

  Savvo nodded, glancing over to Heki who masked her emotions. Tremil had little doubt she wouldn’t be doing anything on auto.

  “Got it,” said Savvo, and he grinned at the pilot. “I won’t be doing anything that stupid.”

  “Nope,” cut in Heki. She had watched everything avidly. Had been running sims on board the Sunstar for hour after hour while Tremil prepped the mods for transfer.

  They flew to Srenik’s command ship; the cruiser covered in autobots carrying out whatever repairs they could on the fly. Despite his protestations, Savvo didn’t get to land the dropship in the bay. The transponder did all that, and on the outward journey, with Heki at his side, coveting the controls, jealousy rolled from her as Savvo took over once out of the cruiser’s wake.

  “Easy,” said Savvo, and switched over the navcom to co-pilot’s control. “Show me you can do it.”

  Heki started to spark at that, but squinted and raised an eyebrow as Tremil intervened. Like she had said, manipulation and control were becoming an everyday occurrence. So much so, despite the hate they shared for Segfi, it was Heki that stayed away from the meeting with the nest queen because she knew she couldn’t trust herself. They had labelled themselves monsters, but couldn’t fall into that trap. Rebekah would never have let them.

  “Okay,” Heki said, and within seconds had the dropship moving to her every whim.

  Savvo feigned not being impressed until he gave a strained laugh, not forced, but mired in his worry for Nicky. The thought he might not be coming back, and the guilt he felt at his crew dying without him. They hadn’t intervened in his choice. Srenik had done that.

  “Okay, okay. You’re better than me,” he sighed, eyes flickering as if he was kicking in an earworm. “Rebekah would have been proud of you both. You know that.”

  Tremil blushed, emotions leaking until they both were. He had made a good choice. Savvo knew them well, and was trying to do the right thing. They all were.

  “And you?” said Heki, cutting through his words to the nub.

  “Fuck, of course I am,” he said, shaking his head and switching on something in his headphone comms. “Shit, that’s strong you two … Yeah. I’m proud. You know how fucking dangerous this is, and you’ve not even complained once.”

  “Duty and honour,” the girls said, and Savvo nodded.

  “Damn right.”

  Chapter 31

  Benetai

  “We are a go, Erran,” the words slid like oil into Erran’s ear. She knew what Tensei was, both as a man and a gang leader. A snake, but with a promise it was hard to turn down. “Have you organised things? You know I like things smooth. Quiet. No whispers.”

  She held back. Was she ready? But she was in deep just by listening to the man, never mind the subtle arrangements she’d already made. “Yes,” she found herself saying.

  “Good, good. Remember, just us. Don’t bring anyone else on board. This is between you …” his voice dripped, sweet and clawing, “and me.”

  “I know,” she said too quickly. “Things are in motion.”

  “I knew I could rely on you, Erran. Do this, and your future is set. You will have the peace you crave. I keep my word.”

  Erran clicked off the ear comms, pulling the grimy device from her ear and slipping it into a thigh pocket where its vibration would be most noticeable. She smoothed down her work jacket, oil and grease merging with the six weeks of detritus she had already wiped there. On her chest was the repair team insignia. In her heart, the thought of the Benetai credits Tensei had promised in return for what he wanted.

  Old doubts resurfaced as she clamped shut her workbox. Word of a girl called Hannah had been whispered about the sixth-floor accom-rack she shared with her three brothers and surly mother. It had become a staple when stories of the fire alarm and raid had become tiring, of the Bustan Navy’s first appearance on the station.

  Yeah, Hannah. A one-way trip into the black.

  When Tensei had first approached her, his smile slimy, gaze all-knowing, she had read him like everyone else. But as the promises dripped into her mind amid the wailing and oppression of family life, her thoughts had set hard on escaping their piece of paradise to make her own.

  She blew out a sigh and stared at herself in the smoked mirror. Erran imagined herself with a half-shaved head, gang tattoos writhing along her neck, a surly, overconfident smile on her lips and a hand cannon at her waist. However hard she tried to put herself amid Tensei’s gang, that wasn’t her future. In a way, it had been a boon. Tensei’s promises of status and power switching to Benetai currency and a chance to make her own way on board the station.

  The price of betrayal.

  Not to Almaar, her genetic birthright, more to Benetai. Or, to be precise, Wendt, who had seen her determination to be one of her crew, her team, and recognised herself there. Erran had manipulated that, then come to like the woman. Admire her toughness, the mean streak that got shit done. And now, a waft of money had made such things topsy-turvy.

  “You can do this,” she whispered into the mirror, her reflection staring back, returning a nod of approval. “Wendt will never know. It’s just a scan.”

  Her breast pocket buzzed, and she gripped her aged personal slate between grease-stained fingers and eyed the screen. It opened in response to her face and there was the Sunstar. As beat-up a piece of shit as any around Benetai. Paulanna had guffawed when she talked about its structural integrity, and a few sweet-ladened sodas later, had given her enough insight into the workings of the ship to hint what Tensei wanted must be hidden deep inside, because it sure as hell wasn’t obvious.

  The vid was a recording. The white-haired, whip-thin girls were walking down the ramp, leaving the Sunstar behind. The one Wendt called Savvo at their side, deep in conversation, and a woman Tensei had named as Nicky. These last two Tensei had labelled as collateral damage. Could be disposed of if she was forced in pursuit of what Tensei wanted. Like that was ever going to happen. She was a ship mechanic, not a gangbanger.

  The slate buzzed again, a message. Wendt calling her in. A smile graced her lips, and she swept back her fuzz of curls into a clean bandana, tying her hair out of the way. Collecting her tools, she headed out the door and onto the repair ring. Crowded as always by a million different ship parts, some old, some cannibalised, all deemed useful by the different teams that worked the repairs, she bypassed the Crunk. One of the Hannos aligned ships and in for an urgent patch-up that had spiralled, with a little help from Erran, into something more concerning. A tug ship, the local economy would grind to a halt if they ever stopped functioning now the Senti and Bustan were bringing fuel and creds their way.

  “Erran? You on the way?” Wendt’s voice was blunted by her jacket. She extracted the slate again, hoping her timing had been right. “Paulanna’s crying out for some help with the Sunstar. I’m up to my non-existent balls in ‘ere. You good for that?”

  Erran thought of her own accom-rack, a container filled with much-desired silence she could call her own. “Yeah,” she said, the knot of betrayal in her stomach untying a little. “I’m good.”

  Leaving the Crunk behind, she headed for the ramp at the Sunstar’s cargo hold doors, the heap of scrap Paulanna was readying to board clamped and sealed to the ring. Wendt had persuaded the repair teams that the incident with the girls wouldn’t repeat itself. Everyone had told her to go fuck herself, nicely as she was respected, but poignantly. Sucking vacuum wasn’t something you risked twice. The price? No crew on board until it departed.

  “Paulanna,” she said, and waved at the stocky woman, her best grin splitting her face in two. Paulanna waved back, shouldering the mini plasma torch and tool kit she was prepping before picking up a hand scanner. The trash heap had displayed multiple stress fractures the last time it was in dock. This was to be a reassessment. A chance to explore the entire ship.

  “Erran,” grinned the welder. “Here,” she handed over the scanner, “start in the workshop. Dricks was as gruff as fuck last time we were in, and it got the least TLC.”

  “Will do.” Erran took a step up the ramp. “Got a schematic? Make things easier.”

  “Uploaded, clever clogs. Don’t miss a thing.”

  Erran nodded. “I won’t,” she replied while deciding which side the planters would go at her door.

  Erran gently shut the toolbox, a glance at her ancient personal slate indicating her shift was coming to an end. She eyed the patchwork of microfractures she had been slowly working on, calculating how much time she would need to get the job done. Such damage was inherent in the Sunstar, issues that Paulanna and her had been diligently working through once the initial scan had shown Wendt’s previous catalogue of repairs had, in the main, done their job. The ship had survived wherever the odd twins and the sullen Almaarian had flown it to.

  Nicky had checked in on Paulanna, agreeing a work schedule and time estimate to be costed up with Wendt. That left them with full access and free rein to work sections of the ship with impunity. Erran had felt little guilt in carrying out the whole ship scan for Tensei; what harm would it cause?

  Mind made up, she thumbed the screen. “Wendt? You there?”

  The usual static rolled in, a click of connection. “Aye.” The answer was drawn out; the engineer clearly into her cups already. Half-cut on the shitty whiskey she loved. “You joining us, Erran? Been a while.”

  “Neh,” she replied. “Thinking of working through, you know. Got something I could be doing in the morn, for ma.”

  “Feck, Erran. Don’t you do ‘nough for ‘er? Shit.” Again, the slur. Wendt knew just how hard it was; her accom-rack had a whole level of containers filled with extended family to never escape from. Hell enough for anyone in Erran’s view. “Two hours, no feckin’ more.”

  The line cut off, and with a resigned grimace she pocketed the slate and re-opened the toolbox, setting to work on the fractures. Inside thirty minutes she had caught up; the job finished. The one she was employed for, anyway. Erran stood, stretching her back, sliding off the protective gloves to crack her knuckles before putting everything away. She slid out a set of synthetic gloves, sliding them over her fingers, and drew out Tensei’s scanner.

  A quick check of the cargo doors confirmed the shift workers were packing up, lights flickering in the distance before fading out completely as ship after ship was closed off for the night. Shadows played about the ring, and cold crept up her spine. A little unnerved, she upped the cargo hold’s own LEDs to burn brightly before closing the doors. Benetai was a surprisingly safe place, far safer than outsiders understood. But rarely were you alone.

  Erran squeezed her hands tight, then clomped through the bay and entered engineering. This had been Paulanna’s domain during the day. Erran only gained a brief glimpse after her initial scans as the woman diligently worked this section of the Sunstar. However, she’d seen enough to puzzle over what the hell Tensei could be interested in. There appeared to be nothing special. Perhaps the level of weaponry aboard could have piqued his interest, some of the specialist equipment, the modded probes, a strange metal contraption Wendt wouldn’t have sold her soul for but might have bartered someone else’s away to acquire. But that was it. The captain’s console, the one in the largest cabin, had shown the usual scrapes and scars that were evidence of high modding, but the physical architecture was now absent. Taken, she assumed, by the strange Bustan twins for whatever they were doing with the not-to-be trusted Senti.

  “Damn,” she said, and repeated it louder as the word echoed about the cabin. Outside, in the ring, being alone had felt creepy. But inside, closed in, her dreams reignited of her own space to breathe.

  The scanner came back with another neutral response. Yes, the engines had the usual tinkering ship’s engineers undertook. Personalising the machinery, dealing with the quirks that developed in years of use and abuse. The manoeuvring thrusters were a work of art and responsible, to her mind, for the majority of the fracture repairs she’d undertaken. Designed for a fight. To make violent, defensive manoeuvres when all else failed. Not quite the staple system for a rescue ship billions of clicks from its usual role.

  “Nothing,” she said. She uploaded the scan, sending it on its way to Tensei with her valued opinion on what the data showed, focusing on the thruster configuration as something that might be valuable. That done, she collected her kit, checked the time, letting out an exasperated sigh as her ear comms buzzed.

  Tensei. Damn. She dug it out from her thigh pocket.

  “You there, little Erran?”

  “You know I am,” she said, a crack in her voice betraying her nerves.

  “I suppose I do. I’ve one more thing for you to do. Just something small. No harm to anyone.” His words made her feel dirty. Like the dark, empty ring outside, unease crept up on her. “Check your toolbox. I left you a present. I know what you’ll think. A step too far, but you’re in deep now. If Wendt were to find out, well, you’d lose your job, and word spreads. Work with the other teams will be hard to find. The money is good … just one more favour. One more job, and you’ll have your peace.”

  Erran swallowed, fingers shaking as she removed her earpiece. She stretched her arms out to the ceiling and let out a vibrant scream, venting frustration at a world that would never let her catch a break. Feeling calmer, she re-opened the toolbox, lifting out two trays of micro-tools to reveal a curled ball of metal and servos. She stared at the note alongside. Scanning and selling the ship’s secrets was one thing, but this was another level. The wording was clear.

  Erran placed the bot on the deck where it maglocked. She could barely look at the deceitful thing. A rummage, and she withdrew a grey metal data slug, as long as a fingernail, and slotted it into place. The bot stirred, stretching numerous legs, multiple eyes coming to life around a central hub. A cam-bot, designed to infiltrate heavy weaponry, tanks and, of course, ships. Set charges, wreck navcoms. Whatever they were programmed to do. It shivered and spun about, facing the corridor. Erran was about to stand when the head swivelled around, and rear legs stabbed in unison. The sound emanating from the cam-bot was strange, elongated, stretching after it struck before fading away to be replaced by a roaring in her ears. Tears welled in her eyes, the cam-bot blurring in and out of her vision. Erran staggered, losing her balance, crumpling to the floor as jagged pain tore through her skull. A name on her lips. Hannah.