Юн Ли - Revenant Gun

And, of course, there was the scaling and rappelling gear. Everything Hemiola knew about those two endeavors came from a drama episode in which the heroine climbed a sheer cliff of frozen methane to rescue her friend-then-enemy-then-friend (or was it the other way around?). It doubted the portrayal bore much resemblance to reality.

“How often do you deal with this stuff anyway?” Hemiola had asked Jedao while they were bogged down in discussions of the merits of different solvents.

“You’ll find out,” Jedao said, not reassuringly. Then he squeezed past Hemiola to the back so he could use the commode.

Life on the needlemoth had settled into a pleasant routine. Hemiola approved of routines. 1491625 piloted. Jedao read and, occasionally, handled inconvenient human necessities like food, sleep, or exercise.

Hemiola hadn’t been able to focus on Kujen’s papers since the approach to Ayong Primary began, however. Ayong Primary dwarfed Tefos Base. Not surprising. According to Jedao, it housed a population of some 800,000 humans. “Sorry I don’t have servitor figures,” he had added. “I’d have to apply for that information from the local enclaves.”

Ayong Primary must be crowded. Hemiola had compared the station’s size to its population. Then again, it conceded that not all humans demanded as much space as a hexarch did.

“Ayong Primary Control,” a bored voice came from the communications panel. “Steady there, Swordfish 2 . Another seven degrees ought to do it.”

Jedao laced his fingers together and stretched first to the left, then to the right, with a popping of vertebrae.

“Aren’t you going to pay attention to that?” Hemiola demanded. What if they crashed into something? Or, more likely, something crashed into them? Especially since, according to 1491625, the needlemoth was running its stealth system.

“We’re not Swordfish 2 ,” Jedao said, “and 1491625 knows its job. You and I, however, have some work to do. Tell me, have you ever done extravehicular?”

Hemiola was startled into an answer. “There was that one episode of Adventures Among the Glittering Worlds where—”

“—the villain hopscotched between three different accelerating voidmoths using jet boots? And didn’t flambé his feet or go cartwheeling head over heels in space?” Jedao sighed. “I’ve seen that episode. All right, so that’s a no.”

“Why are you bringing me along?” Hemiola asked cautiously.

“Enclave regulations. Humans they leave to human authorities, but you’re not human, so...” Jedao shrugged. “And I’m dealing with the enclaves and not the human authorities for supplies and intel because people will recognize me and panic.”

“Couldn’t you have switched to another body?” Hemiola said. Neither the hexarch nor Jedao had ever explained how they were able to achieve this. Body modifications were mentioned casually in the hexarch’s notes, though. (Context: a famous actor, fruitlessly courted by the Andan, changing their face according to their role.) “Or switched your face, at least?”

“That was my question, too,” 1491625 said.

“Wouldn’t help,” Jedao said. “Not when there are people who can recognize me by my movement patterns alone.”

“How many Kel Brezans can there be in the successor states anyway?” 1491625 said.

“There are plenty of people with kinesics recognition training, especially in Security. It’d be a bad gamble. I’d run into one pretty quickly.”

“Who’s Kel Brezan?” Hemiola said. It had never heard of them.

“An old friend of mine,” Jedao said, his intonation implying a certain degree of ambivalence. “A good man, if an impetuous one. Not someone you want to mention on Ayong, by the way. Anyway, come with me.”

After Jedao squeezed past it, Hemiola floated after him. “How do you propose to get onto the station, then?”

“I have some contacts,” Jedao said. “It’ll be tricky to reach them without getting caught.” He slid a drawer open, pulled out a suit, and began checking it over with the dedication of someone who had witnessed what happened to people who ran out of air mid-mission. “1491625 is maneuvering us to the insertion point. The hard part is that we don’t have the space to carry one of the larger burrowers.”

“I’m not familiar with those.”

“They’re bred to tunnel into things,” Jedao said. “Unfortunately, the only burrowers rated to get through this particular station’s carapace are too big for us to haul. We’re not set up for demolitions or construction or mining. So we’re going to have to do it the hard way.”

“The hard way?” Hemiola said faintly.

Jedao didn’t respond for several moments, attention snagged by some fault in the suit. After fixing it, he inventoried the contents of a substantial utility belt before buckling it on. Once he’d sorted that out, he considered Hemiola. “I’m going to do the maneuvering,” he said, “because I’ve got the training for it. Which means you’re going to be strapped to me. We have spare webbing. Will it offend your dignity too much?”

Medical servitors had permission to wrangle humans. Of its old comrades, only Rhombus had had that kind of expertise, presumably in case of emergency. Kujen and Jedao had never made use of it, even when they played at knives with each other. Hemiola knew some basic first aid, but that was all. With any luck, none of that would prove necessary.

“I’ve found the webbing,” Hemiola said, bringing out the spool. Jedao kept a well-organized moth.

“Good. You’re going to be great at this. I’m the one who has to not fuck up.”

Hemiola did not find this reassuring, especially since it remembered Jedao in earlier incarnations stumbling about Tefos Station, or banging into corners, or that one time he tripped over the hexarch’s foot and went sprawling. The hexarch had been quite tolerant of this.

Jedao, not stupid, noticed Hemiola’s hesitation. “You have misgivings. Speak up. Better now than later.”

“Are you competent to carry out this type of mission?” Not like it could evaluate his fitness, but maybe Jedao would answer honestly.

Jedao grinned, unoffended. “I’ve done harder.”

“What else do I need to know?”

“Once we get in, shadow me. We won’t be hitting the usual thoroughfares, so with luck we won’t run into any of the human locals. The complication here is that Ayong Primary hosts servitors from multiple enclaves. Pyrehawk should have treaties with most of them, but the political situation may be volatile.”

Hemiola fluttered its lights noncommittally. It didn’t understand why a human was relying on servitors’ treaties for protection. Then again, it came from a tiny backwater enclave of three. Perhaps matters would come clear if it kept quiet and paid close attention.

“Assuming things haven’t come unglued,” Jedao went on, “I’m familiar with the local treaties. They’ll have questions of their own for you, but as I’m not a servitor I don’t know how that works.”

Wonderful. “Are you sure I can’t stay?”

“You might see something I don’t,” Jedao said. “Can you hover yourself up mid-back level, right where the oxygen pack is?”

Hemiola did so and suffered itself to be webbed to Jedao. Jedao was being careful not to impede the jets of the thrusters or his own limbs. Hemiola stifled its doubts about the setup. In an emergency, Hemiola could hover itself to safety, and it didn’t need to breathe. It could even drag Jedao around if it had to, but short of medical cause, it needed his permission for that.

“Your needlemoth may have stealth,” Hemiola said, “But I don’t. Station scan will be able to see my power core. And you can’t hide your heat signature, either. And if anyone’s monitoring the number of servitors on the station—”