Charles Stross - Iron Sunrise

“Talk inside.” She nodded, and Rachel followed her in. “Sit down. Got some stuff to do.”

“Stuff?”

Rachel was already leaning over her trunk. “I want — hmm.” She raised the lid and stuck her finger in the authentication slot, then rapidly scrolled through items on the built-in hard screen. She glanced at Wednesday. “Come over here. I need to know what size clothing you take.”

“Clothing? Earth measurements? Or Sept—”

“Just stand up. Your name’s Anita and you don’t exist, but you’re down on the passenger list. So we’ll just have to make sure you don’t look like Victoria Strowger when they get the passenger liaison net back up again, all right?”

“What’s going on ?”

Rachel straightened up as the trunk began to whine, holding a small scanner. “I was hoping you could tell me. That jacket’s programmable, isn’t it? You’ve made them panic, and they’re springing a trap. Can it do any colors other than black? Prematurely, I hope. Quick, they could be calling any minute. Why don’t you tell me how you got in this mess—”

There was no knock on the door. It swung open, and two figures leapt inside. But then one of them kicked it shut — and by the time Rachel finished turning around Martin was leaning against the door, his eyes half-shut, breathing deeply.

“Martin—” She glanced sideways as she stood up, knees wobbly with relief. “I was beginning to think they’d grabbed you.” They met in the vestibule and she hugged him, then looked past his shoulder at the other arrival. “Aha! Glad you could make it. Martin, which plan were you thinking of using?”

“Plan B,” said Martin. “We’ve got that spare ID you put on the manifest.”

“Uh-oh.” Rachel let go of him, turned, and stared at the bathroom door. “We may have a problem.”

The bathroom door opened. “Is this what you wanted?” Wednesday asked plaintively. Rachel blinked at her. In the space of ten minutes her hair had turned blond and curly, the stark black eyeliner had vanished, and the black leather jacket with the spiky shoulders had been replaced by a pink dress with layered puffball underskirts. “My ass looks huge in this. I feel like a real idiot!” She noticed Steffi. “Oh, hi there. This isn’t about the other night, is it?”

Steffi sat down hard on the end of the bed. “Just what are you doing here?” she demanded, a hard edge in her voice.

“Um.” Rachel fixed Martin with a steely gaze. “We seem to have a slight problem. Can’t really have two Anitas running around, can we?”

“No—” Martin rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Shit! What a mess. One false set of ident tags, and two people to hide. Looks like we’ve got a problem, folks.”

“Can I just wear a flowerpot on my head and pretend I’m a tree? I know the idea is to look different, but this is just plain embarrassing.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would fool them for long.” Martin scratched his chin. “Steffi?”

“Let me think.” She leaned her chin on one fist. “I feel so useless right now. I should really be trying to link up with the bridge crew or D-com—”

“Your attention, please. This is your acting Captain speaking.” Everyone looked up instinctively at the voice emanating from the emergency comm panel beside the door. “There has been an accident on the bridge. Captain Hussein has been incapacitated. In her absence I, Lieutenant Commander Fromm, am in charge of this vessel. For your safety and comfort you should remain in your rooms until further notice. Passenger liaison facilities will be re-enabled shortly, and if you need anything, your needs will be attended to. In view of the crisis, I have asked for volunteer help. We are lucky to be carrying a group from Tonto, and I have enlisted these people to provide assistance in this critical period. Please comply with any instructions they issue. I will make further announcements when the situation is fully under control.”

“Uh-oh,” said Wednesday.

“He’s gone crazy!” Steffi exploded. “The skipper would never do that, she’d—” Her eyes were wide. “It’s a hijacking, isn’t it? But why is Max cooperating?”

“I hate to break it to you,” Martin said gently, “but that wasn’t Lieutenant Commander Fromm you were listening to. It was his voicebox, but not him talking.”

“What do you mean?” Steffi stared at him, trying to figure out how much he might know.

“The ReMastered have made something of a specialty out of brain mapping and digitization,” said Rachel, her tone dispassionate. “They can save minds to off-line storage and reincarnate them later — at great expense — by building a new body. But mostly they use the technique to turn living bodies into puppets. Zombies, zimboes with the illusion of self-awareness, whatever.” She clenched her hands together. “That’s how they take planets. They acquire some key government officers, destabilize the place by exploiting local political tensions, declare a state of emergency — using their puppets — and move in.”

Steffi’s face was white. Shit! I have to warn Sven! We’ve got to get out of here! “ Max went to the flight deck to find out what was going on! I let him—”

“Don’t blame yourself. They’ve got the bridge, drive engineering control, damage control, sentries on the main stairs, and passengers under lock and key in their rooms. This was a well-planned operation.” Rachel glanced at Wednesday. “Bet you they’re turning over your suite right now. And yours,” she added, looking back at Steffi. “They made a big mistake, missing you.”

“But I, I—” Steffi stopped. She looked horrified.

“It’ll take them time to check on us in here,” Martin said slowly, thinking aloud. “When they do, we want you well hidden. You’re probably the senior line officer on the ship. We’ll need you around for your pass codes and retinal print if we’re to stand a chance of taking back control.” He glanced at the cupboard. “Once we arrive where they’re diverting us to. If we get there without them tagging us in a search. Ever heard of a priest’s hole?”

“A what?” Steffi looked dazed. “What are you talking about? I’m just a trainee flight officer! I don’t have clearance—”

Martin walked over to the trunk containing the military fabricator. “You’ll be the ranking line officer on the ship once this is over,” he told her. “Rache, can you clear everything out of the walk-in? I’m going to need some basic tools, some supports, and a load of paneling to fit. Plus any special toys you can have the fab turn out in less than half an hour that won’t show up as weapons on a teraherz scan. Bet you they’re working on a ubiquitous surveillance mesh already. Need clothing for you, me, and the kid; it’s in the deception and evasion library. Steffi, have you got a rebreather mask? We’ll need a couple of buckets, some cushions, something to cover one of the buckets with—”

“Rebreather mask?”

“We’ve got maybe an hour,” Martin said impatiently. He pointed at Wednesday. “You’re going to be Anita. You—” he pointed at Steffi — “are going to be Anne — Anne Frank. Rachel, run the kid through the Anita background while I get our stowaway stowed. Steffi? You and I are going to build a false back to the wardrobe, and I’m going to wall you in until we get wherever we’re going. The name of this phase of the game is hide-and-seek, and the goal is to stay out of custody for now. Once we know which way the wind’s blowing we’ll see about taking back the ship.”

“If you can hear me, blink twice.”

Blink blink.

“That’s good. You’re Frank, aren’t you? Blink once for yes.”