He’d been afraid of this.
“Stella, it’s a danger to anyone who knows that it exists. Worse than shipboard ansibles. It’s a danger to anyone who has it. I must not say more; I don’t want you in danger, too.”
“Ky’s in danger from knowing about it—or does she have it?”
“She has it. And yes, she’s in danger from that, although she’s in danger for so many other reasons it hardly adds to the total. But you, Stella, are the rock Vatta depends on now. And you are more secure than someone who goes out into space and attacks warships, like Ky.”
“I certainly hope so,” Stella said. “Are you and Ky the only ones who know?”
“Unfortunately not. My sister Penny found out by accident, during the late unpleasantness. Observed me with it. But she’s not a blabber and no one else knows she knows.”
“They might infer—”
“Yes, enemies might, if they knew about it. And someone else knew before all that, when I first got back to Nexus. No one should have known, but—”
“The inventor?”
“Maybe. Or someone who tortured the information out of the inventor. I have no clue; I’d been away too long. The thing is, there may still be people who know I have it. I have no idea where they might be. Penny’s the only other person who knows Ky has one.”
“I see. Aunt Grace is going to want to know. And she’s a lot more persuasive than I am. With more power behind her.”
“Perhaps. We’ll see. Stella, I really appreciate what you’re doing. I believe I’ll know for certain what I’m reasonably sure of now, once I get to Slotter Key and can tune the local ansible…”
“You’re going to do what?”
“News reports suggest to me that Slotter Key’s ansible may still not be fully functional. I can fix that. You know I can.”
“But how will that find Ky?”
Rafe just looked at her. Stella glared, but then shrugged. “All right. Don’t tell me. Here’s what I’ve arranged. You and Teague, whoever he really is—”
“You know what I know about Teague, except that Gary said they were working a criminal hostage situation and apparently the bad guys got into one of Gary’s computer systems. A mole he hadn’t spotted; the mole’s dead, Teague killed him, so Teague’s a marked man. They got his partner. I have a year of his services in return for giving him new biomarkers and ID; the stuff’s already working, but will take another one to two years to complete.”
“That’s rather a lot under except. I suppose he’s already looking less like his old self?”
“Yes, much less like his old self. Biomarkers on scans are quite different, but the rest is, as you may know, limited by the rate of cell replacement. He did have one surgery four months ago to change the shape of his jaw. I see a difference in skin tone—he will be distinctly less brown and more yellow when he’s finished—but it’s not nearly enough yet to make him safe on Nexus.”
She blinked. “So—I could choose to become plain—even ugly—”
“Do you want to?”
“No. I don’t think so. There’s still a usefulness in what I have. But it’s tempting to become someone completely other, at least for a while.”
“The kind of treatment Teague’s getting isn’t for a while.”
“I understand. But back to your travels. The courier crews have been completely checked out, gene scans and all. You will travel more comfortably without your add-ons, but it’s up to you. The facilities are, as I said, cramped and not overly comfortable, especially for two. This crew’s been briefed, though not to your real identity. They won’t ask; they don’t want to know, even if they figure it out.”
“Good. But I think I should arrive at Slotter Key in my persona.”
“Yes. And you should leave here wearing it; Cascadia’s tightened its exit protocols. They won’t mind you leaving by Vatta courier, but you must check out with them or we’ll all be in trouble.”
“So—when, exactly, are we leaving?”
“Tomorrow evening, local time. The courier’s on the schedule for a 2300 departure; you’ll need to go through exit procedures by 2230. I’ll provide an escort at 2130 to continue the cover story. The deposit money for the other reservation is already in your account on Slotter Key.”
“My account… how did you do that?”
She gave him the look he’d given her years before, and the same answer. “I have connections. Now: no one but crew will know you’re on our courier; when I hear from them that they’ve made the Slotter Key downjump, I’ll call Grace.”
Alone in the bedroom he’d chosen, Rafe took off the accoutrements that made him look fifty kilos heavier and ten years or more older. He cleaned and hung up the various pads and their attachments, then took out the cable for his cranial ansible. Should he? Probably not. But he plugged in the cable to the power outlet anyway. After that difficulty during the war, he had made an addition to it that could convert any standard line power to the ansible’s power requirement and not burn out his brain.
As he had once a day since he found out about Ky’s situation, he plugged in. And there it was: the peculiar smell that told him he had an ansible-to-ansible connection with another just like his… and that could only be hers. He could not communicate with her; the signal was too weak. But she was still alive. He closed his eyes, concentrating. Was it weaker than it had been? Was she dying, right then?
He disconnected, coiled the cable without looking at it, and returned it to the case. He snapped the lock and tried to put Ky and her problems out of his mind.
The next day was one long stretch of boredom, despite the books, the vids, the games. Stella was away in her office. The cook fixed them breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea. Teague slept a lot; Rafe knew the treatment was tiring for him. By the time Stella came back to the apartment, it was almost time to leave. He and Teague were both ready. After a quick supper, their guards led them back toward the main Vatta docks, where a departure desk staffed by two Cascadian officers waited. Stella stayed behind.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Not dead yet. Ky reminded herself of that every time her thoughts drifted on the long slog up to the plateau. They had started under starlight, well before local dawn; the clear, still weather was too good to waste; recent snowfall had drifted in between boulders, slowing progress. When they finally cleared the deepest drifts, the flimsy shelters they’d left were now hidden by the swell of ground. Like those with her, those left behind were hungry, cold, weakening day by day since the bay had frozen over and put an end to fishing. It was Ky’s job to make them hang on, to ensure that they had the best possible chance to survive.
By the time daylight made visibility easy, they were past the tumble of boulders and onto the snow-covered slope above. Here the snow wasn’t as deep; walking was easier. They were, Ky estimated, halfway up the gulch when a gust of wind blew all the snow off a smooth slanted surface in front of them.
“I could almost believe that was a road once,” Betange said. “But if it was a road why would it stop—or start—here?”
Ky turned to look back down the slope. From here she could not see the shore at all, only the ocean end of the bay, dark water showing between slabs of ice. “So it couldn’t be seen from below, I guess. But it could’ve been seen from the sea—if anyone had looked. Or satellite surveillance. If it is a road.”
Soon it was clear that, if not a road, it was a much smoother path upward than they’d had before. Again and again gusts of wind blew the snow off it. Eventually the slope eased, then eased again. Now they could see ahead and to either side. Low hills with taller ones behind them rose to the right. Thirty meters away a group of large grayish animals she had no name for fled abruptly, kicking up snow. Ky had never seen anything like them—shaggy, heads high, strangely shaped antlers, slender legs, short tails sticking up like flags.