Michael Flynn: On the Razor’s Edge

“So…”

“So who force him?” Ravn tilted her head back and to the side. “How did he learn of the Shadow War? And why tell me he knew? And why tell us how loyal he be, if he think us rebels?”

“Us?”

“Who was he telling?” Ravn tapped a finger on the console … Then she leaned suddenly forward and called up a recording of the conversation. She stepped it forward to the moment near the end when the swoswai had glanced to the side. “Eyes may not be window to soul,” she murmured, “but sometime make splendid mirror.” She boxed in on Mashdasan’s eyes, expanded, boxed again, enhanced. Then she grunted. “So.”

Méarana leaned across her shoulder to see what the enhancement had revealed: a sleeve of dark but indeterminate color was reflected in the cornea.

“Shenmat,” said Ravn in a flat voice. “Rest follow by deduction. Who, in all the worlds of all the suns, wears the body stocking? Shadows and their magpies. And loyalist, or he not so shy of Ravn’s eye.”

“But you’re a loyalist, too,” the harper pointed out.

The Shadow put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Is secret. Always problem with undercover. Better job you do, more your friends shoot at you.” She stood from the console.

“What now?” said Méarana. “Surely the Shadow in Mashdasan’s office wasn’t there waiting on the chance you might show up!”

“No. Shadow come to Henrietta to question swoswai. Word of last year’s facemeet is leaked. You and I…? Phrase is ‘target of opportunity.’ Problem with tiptoe through minefield is sometime you step on mine.”

They received the orbital parameters from SVMG. There were six, relative to Henrietta’s sun and the plane of her planetary family. “Longitude of ascending node…,” Ravn sang as she worked from the pilot’s saddle. “Argument of perihelion … Inclination to planetary plane … Where are you, my sweet? Ah! Stationary Station, I see you. Mark! Two more now … Hah! Mark, and … mark! Triangulating and locking on.”

“What if the Shadow told him to send phony parameters and put us into the wrong orbit?” Méarana asked when the Shadow emerged.

“Oh, sweet Mashdasan nayver do that to darling Ravn! Boots nayver take orders from Lion’s Mouth. Late swoswai correct. Boots not stupid. Maybe not broad-minded like Shadows, but inside box?—think very deep. Mashdasan knows he is dead man. Cannot be less dead by fooling Ravn, but fine vengeance on his killer to help his killer’s enemy. No, we may rely on parameters. We may also rely on Shadow.”

“How so?”

“He too know our destination but no time to climb up, catch us. So he use smartie or wave cannon … Subvert instructions no very large matter. Imitate swoswai voice; manipulate swoswai ymago in tank. A piffle.” She sanpped fingers. “Give orders destroy us. Boots nayver obey Shadow—likely much vexed when learn he kill commander—but boots obey words on comm. link, no questions; and a little kaowèn harvests all access codes.”

Destroy us … Méarana’s heart went cold, and she wondered what she had gotten herself into. “So this unknown Shadow could pot us at any time?”

Ravn sat at the astrogation tank and began tapping commands. “Likely not any time. Mooch traffic in these orbit, and we be small rental ship. Better if wait until we match with target. Then…” She made frying sounds with her tongue and Méarana flinched.

“Why not wait until we board Sèan Beta ? That is more certain still.”

“That is also Fleet property. Fry intruder one thing, but even wave cannonier scratch butt and wonder what the xing jiao is going on if asked to fry impound ship, maybe ask for confirmation back up corkscrew of command. So…” She touched the tank in several places, reaching into the hologram to toggle certain commands. The tank turned gray and dots of various colors blinked their way through it.

Méarana said, “Ravn?”

“Hoosh, sweet. Thinking very hard … Ah. We blend in with traffic here … to … here. Then … Is asteroid going our way. We ride with it to … here. Natural object in free trajectory. STC brain subtract those, so make us invisible. Bad time, here to Sèan Beta . Must leave friendly asteroid and make matching transfer to rendezvous. Curse upon Holy Newton’s hemorrhoids! Longer trip time, but…” She engaged the alfvens and the little rental grabbed the corduroy of space and yanked. Somewhere aft there was a loud and unpleasant sound, and Méarana smelled an electrical odor.

“Second reason we want smooggler ship. Survey class alfvens. Grab strings of space deep in gravity well but not burn out like these poor ship.” She patted the control board fondly.

“Ravn? Why do you think the Shadow will kill the general?”

“Do not think—know . Fool try to warn us. That was very nice, and I kiss his lips, but not very wise. He knows Shadow War, stresses his loyalty for benefit of interrogator, but looks sidewise to warn us. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge. ‘Someone in room with me.’ But sooch body language and sly allusion subtle oonly to man of ‘bloont’ character. Shadow not fooled. So Mashdasan suffer fate of all who place generative organ between hammer and anvil.”

“So the Shadow did not go there intending to assassinate him.”

Ravn swung her seat around. “Likely noot. Oonly to torture him and learn what he could of the facemeet Dawshoo held there last year. Why do you ask this?”

“Mother taught me a thing or two. The Lion’s Mouth sends you out in pairs, don’t they?”

Ravn nodded. “Usually. Second kills first if first falters. Nice system. Encourages job commitment.”

“How sweet. But that suggests that while the first does not know how to contact the second, the second keeps tabs on the first.”

“Yayss…?”

“Then the Shadow in the swoswai’s office…”

Ravn grinned broadly and smacked the console desk with the flat of her hand. “… exceeded his instructions!”

“But the second would not know why. So if ‘Dawshoo’ sent a congratulatory message to the first in care of the swoswai’s office, the second…”

“… would intercept it, find it but moodestly difficult to decrypt, and perhaps woonder if his first is playing a traitor’s game. Young harper, I like the way you think.”

Méarana touched her forefinger to the tip of her nose. “Confusion to the enemy.”

“And perplexity upon our foes.”

“I wonder,” said Méarana, “why Mashdasan tried to warn you. It’s not as though he was on your side.”

“Perhaps he had something to prove to himself. Dawshoo humiliate him last year. Two such affronts he would not accept. Fool. But sometimes fools do brave things.”

“Are we going to make it?” The harper tried to ask with an air of nonchalance.

“All in hands of Fate. Tell me this, harper. Your mother taught you a thing or two. But did she teach you three?”

Space Traffic Control watched the monoship emerge from the detection-shadow of Asteroid Laatmui 27 and make a dash for the ships in the impound orbit. Grabbing space, she moved in quantum jerks, building velocity. STC noted, too, from the shell design that the ship was Peripheral built. This information spread across the surveillance web, downloaded into cognizant systems, was picked up picoseconds later by Midsystem Sector Defense. The field control officer noted the orbit and checked against the fire order sent from Siling Bo Henrietta. Burn the vessel matching orbit with the designated reference. Obvious now, the reason: an attempt by Peripheral agents to hijack a Fleet vessel. An earlier search had flagged the reference vessel as one promised to the Lion’s Mouth, and the officer shuddered to contemplate the consequence if he allowed it to be stolen. After verifying that no other ships were matching orbits with the reference vessel, he sent the release-to-fire message to the wave cannon Stout Defender, which was best positioned to take it out.