Speaker stops just short of Nasha and rises up to head level. “What private things will you discuss?”
“If I told you,” Nasha says slowly, “they wouldn’t be private, would they?”
“No,” Speaker says. “I suppose not.”
Nasha glances over at me. I shrug. She sighs. “So?”
Speaker’s mandibles clatter together rapidly in a way I’m starting to associate with confusion. “So, what?”
“So,” Nasha says. “Will you please give us some privacy?”
“Oh,” Speaker says. “Yes. Of course.”
He drops to the ground, curls back on himself, and retreats down the hillside.
“I must say,” he says as he goes, “this does not seem very friendly.”
He stops when he’s fifty meters or so off, turns, and looks back at us.
“Think that’s far enough?” Nasha says, her voice now just above a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Want me to try an old ComSec trick to find out?”
Nasha’s eyes narrow above her rebreather. “You’re a funny guy, Mickey. It’s gonna get you killed someday.”
“It already has,” I say. “Several times.”
Nasha sighs. “Right. Look, what are we doing here? You’re not planning on bringing that thing into the dome, are you?”
“I mean—”
“Let me stop you there, Mickey. We cannot bring a three-meter-long creeper into the dome. Totally aside from the fact that some Security goon would definitely kill him before we were through the perimeter, we can’t give him the opportunity to gather intel on us.”
I turn to face her fully and fold my arms across my chest. “Intel? Seriously? What do you expect him to learn, other than that a hundred and seventy humans crammed into a closed environment eventually start to smell like old socks no matter how many chem showers they take?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “We have no real idea of what his capabilities are, do we? I mean, doesn’t it spook you at all, how easily these things have been able to learn how to manipulate our systems? Just as an example, how was he able to tap our text feed? Nobody in the dome could have done that other than Marshall and Amundsen. If we let him into the dome, would he be able to get into the general feed? Would he be able to pull specs for our weapons systems? For our life support? For the reactor? Come on, Mickey. Use your head.”
I glance downslope toward Speaker. He raises two segments and waves a foreleg.
“Fine. You make some good points. So what do you suggest?”
Her eyes lose focus as her attention shifts from my face to her ocular’s heads-up display. “Looks like we’re three klicks out here, give or take, and we’ve got one more ridge that’s blocking any line-of-sight transmissions. I’m not getting any comm signals from the dome at all right now. We should be safe to leave him here. We can pick him up again once we’re ready to head south.”
“That could take a while. A few days, maybe, depending on how much of a pain in the ass Marshall decides to be about this. You think he’ll be okay just hanging around out here?”
“This is Speaker’s planet,” Nasha says. “His natural environment, right? I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
<Black Hornet>: Okay, Speaker. You can come back now.
<Speaker1>: You are finished telling secrets?
<Black Hornet>: For the moment, anyway.
We wait as he scuttles back up the slope.
“So,” he says when he reaches us. “We can continue now?”
“Not exactly,” Nasha says. “Mickey and I can continue now. You can wait here. We’ll come back for you once we’ve gathered what we need.”
“But…” Speaker says, his mandibles clattering. “But I wish to see your nest.”
“I’m sure you do,” Nasha says. “Wait here. We’ll be back in a day or two.”
“This seems unfair. You have seen our nest. You have seen it several times.”
“And you’ve killed six of us, when all we did was roast a few ancillaries,” Nasha says. “Life isn’t fair. Two days max. Maybe three.” She turns and starts walking. “Four at the outside.”
Speaker turns to me. “You agree with this?”
“Sorry,” I say. “We’ll be back as quickly as possible. You’ll be okay here?”
“I wish to see your nest.”
“You will,” I say. “Eventually. Right now, things are a little tense—because of all the killing, you know? If we brought you into the dome right now, things might not go well. Once we recover the bomb, everyone will be happier. You can come for a visit then, okay?”
He rises up to head-height, wavers, then drops back to the ground. “Fine. I will wait here. Try not to be too long. I do not like the outside.”
I start to reach out, to give his carapace a farewell pat, but at the last second I remember what those mandibles can do. “Okay, then. See you soon.”
Nasha’s already cresting the hill. I give Speaker one last backward glance, then hurry to catch up.
I DON’T KNOW why, but I expected some kind of reception. We don’t get one, though. Cat is leaning against a burner pylon when we come over the hill and start down toward the main lock. She’s in standard black Security togs, no armor or helmet. The only thing that indicates she’s on sentry duty is the accelerator slung across her back.
“Hey,” she says when we’re close enough for talking. “Where are you two coming from?”
“Just out for a stroll,” Nasha says. “Marshall didn’t tell you to be on the lookout for us?”
Cat laughs. “Marshall doesn’t tell me shit. He knows I’m tight with you two. Apparently that makes me a security risk.” She gives Nasha a once-over. “So what’s with the arsenal? You guys doing secret missions or something?”
“Yeah,” Nasha says. “Something. Okay if we head in?”
“Go for it,” Cat says. As we walk past, she nudges me. “You can tell me about the secret mission later, right?”
Nasha shoots her a look. Cat winks and turns away.
“Swear to God,” Nasha says as we’re waiting for the lock to cycle. “If I ever find out that the two of you—”
“You won’t,” I say, “because we’re not.”
“Damn right,” she says. The light above the inner door turns green, and Nasha strips off her rebreather as it slides open. There’s another goon, a guy named Drake, on duty in the ready room. He’s slouched in a chair against the far wall, wearing that glassy-eyed expression that says he’s streaming media through his ocular. He glances up as we step out of the lock.
“Barnes,” he says. “Marshall wants to see you.”
I cross the room to the row of lockers on the far side, slide my pack to the floor, and start stowing gear.
“Did you hear me?” Drake says. “Marshall wants to see you. Now.”
Nasha racks her weapons, then comes over to help me with the pack. I’m just pulling the last empty slurry tubes out of the side pockets when Drake gets to his feet.
“Look,” he says, “I don’t know who the—”
He stops there because Nasha has swung around and taken two steps toward him. He’s got ten centimeters and probably thirty kilos on her, but he still takes a half step back.
“He heard you,” Nasha says. “Now sit your ass back down and go back to watching porn or whatever else you were doing instead of your job, Drake. We’ve had a long couple of days, and we’re not here for your shit.”
Drake’s mouth hangs open for a moment, then snaps closed as his face twists into a scowl. “Whatever. Just make sure you get to the commander’s office in the next ten minutes. Your entry time has been logged.”
He drops back into his chair and folds his arms across his chest as his eyes lose focus. I stow the empty pack, take a quick look around to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, and then start toward the door. We’re into the corridor with the door sliding shut behind us when Drake mutters one word, Bitch, just loud enough to be heard.