Charles Stross - Singularity Sky

“Oh?” Wheels turned slowly behind Timoshevski’s skull; evidently his plethora of augmentations took a goodly amount of his attention to run.

Sister Seventh stamped, shaking the floor. “Mimes are boring. Say help rabbit. Learn something new, maybe stage rescue drama?”

“If you say so.” Burya turned to Oleg. “Listen, you’re doing a reasonable job holding things down. I’d like to take six of your finest — who do I talk to? — and go sort these Mimes out. We really don’t need them messing things up; I’ve seen what they do, and I don’t like it.” A sallow-faced commissar behind Oleg shouldered his way forward. “I don’t see why we should listen to you, you pork-fed cosmopolitan,” he snarled in a thick accent. “This isn’t your revolution; this is the independent Plotsk soviet soyuz community, and we don’t take any centralist reactionary shit!”

“Quiet, Babar,” said Oleg. The tentacle sticking out of his back rotated to face the easterner: a dim red light glowed from its tip. “Burya is good comrade. If wanted force centralism on us, am thinking he would have come with force, no?”

“He did,” said Sister Seventh, but the revolutionaries ignored her.

“He go with detachment of guards. End to argument,” Oleg continued. “A fine revolutionary; trust him do right by this— rabbit.”

“You better be right, Timoshevski,” grunted Babar. “Not fools, us. Am not tolerating failure.” Sauer was out of the wardroom and into the security watch office less than a minute after regaining consciousness, cursing horribly, blinking back a painful chloroform headache, and tugging creases from his rumpled and spattered tunic. The petty officer on duty sprang to his feet hastily, saluting; Sauer cut him off. “General security alert. I want a full search for the UN spy and the shipyard engineer immediately, all points. Pull all the surveillance records for the UN spy in the past hour on my workstation, soon as you’ve got the search started. I want a complete inventory on all off-duty personnel as soon as you’ve done that.” He flung himself down behind his desk angrily. He ran fingers through his razor-cut hair and glared at the screen set into his desktop, then hit the switchboard button. “Get me the duty officer in ops,” he grunted. Turning around, “Chief, what I said — I need it now. Grab anyone you need.”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me, sir, beg permission to ask — what are we expecting?”

“The Terran diplomat is a saboteur. We flushed her, but she ran, taking the engineer with her. Which might have done us all a favor, except, firstly, they’re still loose, and, secondly, they’re armed and aboard this ship right now. So you’re to look for crazed foreign terrorists with illegal off-world technology lurking in the corridors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The flyer looked bemused. “Very clear, sir.”

The workstation bonged. Sauer turned to face it. Captain Mirsky stared at him inquiringly; “I thought you were busy keeping an eye on that damned chinless wonder from the Curator’s Office,” he commented.

“Sir!” Sauer sat bolt upright. “Permission to report a problem, sir!”

“Go ahead.”

“Security violation.” Sweat stood out on Sauer’s forehead. “Suspecting a covert agenda on the part of the Terran diplomat, I arranged a disinformation operation to convince her we had her number.

Unfortunately, we convinced her too well; she escaped from custody with the shipyard engineer and is loose on the ship right now. I’ve started a search and sweep, but in view of the fact that we appear to have armed hostiles aboard, I’m recommending a full lockdown and security alert.” The Captain didn’t even blink. “ Do it .” He turned around, out of camera view for a few seconds. “The operations room is now sealed.” Beyond the sound-insulating door of the security office, a siren began to wail. “Report your status.”

Sauer looked around; the rating standing by the door nodded at him. “Beg to report, sir, security office is sealed.”

“We’re locked down in here, sir,” said Sauer. “The incident only began about three minutes ago.” He leaned sideways. “Found the records yet, Chief?”

“Backtracking now, sir,” said the Chief Petty Officer. “Ah, found external— damn . Begging your pardon, sir, but twelve minutes ago the surveillance cameras in Green deck, accommodation block — that’s where her quarters are — were disabled. An internal shutdown signal via the maintenance track, authorized by — ah. Um. The shutdown signal was authorized under your ID, sir.”

“Oh.” Sauer grunted. “Have you traced off-duty crew dispositions?”

“Yes, sir. Nobody was obviously out of bounds during the past hour. ‘Course that doesn’t mean anything — worst thing a sneak would normally get for being caught without a tracking badge would be a day or two in the brig.”

“You don’t say. Get a team down there now, I want that corridor covered!” Sauer didn’t remember the open phone channel until the Captain cleared his throat. “I take it you’re secure for the time being,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” The Lieutenant’s ears began to turn red. “Someone disabled the sensors outside the inspector’s cabin, using my security authentication. Sir, she’s really put one over on us.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Mirsky raised an eyebrow. “Come on. I want a solution.”

“Well—” Sauer stopped, “Sir, I believe I’ve located the saboteurs. Permission to go get them?” Mirsky grinned humorlessly. “Do it. Take them alive. I want to ask them some questions.” It was the first time Sauer had seen his captain look angry, and it made his blood run cold. “Yes, make sure they’re alive. I don’t want any accidents. Oh, and Sauer, another thing.”

“Sir?”

“When this is over I want a full, written report explaining how and why this whole incident happened. By yesterday morning.”

“ Yes, sir .” The Captain cut the connection abruptly; Sauer stood up. “You heard the man,” he said.

“Chief, I’m taking a pager. And arms.” He walked over to the sealed locker and rammed his thumb against it; it clicked open, and he began pulling equipment out. “You’re staying here. Listen on channel nineteen. I’m going to be heading for the cabin. Keep an eye on my ID. If you see it going somewhere I’m not, I want you to tell me about it.” He pulled on a lightweight headset, then picked up a taser, held it beside his temple while the two computers shook hands, then rolled his eyes to test the target tracking.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Should I notify the red tabs on green deck?”

“Of course.” Sauer brought the gun to bear on the door. “Open the hatch.”

“Aye aye, sir.” There was a click as latches retracted; the rating outside nearly dropped his coffee tray when he saw the Lieutenant.

“You! Maxim! Dump that tray and take this!” Sauer held out another firearm, and the surprised flyer fumbled it into place. “Stick to channel nineteen. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Now follow me.” Then he was off down the corridor, airtight doors scissoring open in front and slamming closed behind him, turning the night into a jerky red-lit succession of tunnels.

The first thing she realized was her head hurt. The second …

She was lying in an acceleration couch. Her feet and hands were cold. “Rachel!” She tried to say “I’m awake,” but wasn’t sure anything came out. Opening her eyes took a tremendous effort of will. ‘Time. Wassat? How long—?“

“A minute ago,” said Martin. “What’s happened in here?” He was in the couch next to her. The capsule was claustrophobically tiny, like something out of the dawn of the space age. The hatch above them was open, though, and she could just see the inner door of her cabin past it. “ Hatch, close . I said I had a lifeboat, didn’t I?”