“That’s what we were hoping to hear,” Tracy-Ace said. “In fact, there might be another job coming your way soon.” She glanced at Legroeder, who realized he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, hoping that Deutsch wouldn’t decide to explain what really had happened.
Legroeder shifted his gaze back to the holo, momentarily forgotten in the excitement of seeing Deutsch again. The Deep Flux. The waiting Kyber fleet. “Weren’t you about to tell me about that?” he asked Tracy-Ace.
“The Free Kyber Republic Joint Fleet?” she said. “What would you like to know?”
“Well—for one thing, why do they appear to be poised at the edge of the Deep Flux?”
Tracy-Ace chuckled. “That’s right, you don’t know about this on Barbados. Well, they’re poised there because they have a long way to go. I’m not free to discuss the specific destination. But as I said, new hunting grounds. Away from the Centrist Worlds.”
Legroeder tried to think through the implications of a vast pirate fleet setting out to colonize new worlds. If the Kyber were going away from the Centrist Worlds…
Good riddance?
That seemed unlikely.
“But why the Deep Flux?”
Tracy-Ace’s gaze was steady. “That’s the shortcut our planners have chosen. Too slow, otherwise.”
“But…” Shortcut? To slow death? “…the Deep Flux is unnavigable. It’s unstable; it’s unmappable. I’ve never heard of anyone rigging it and coming back alive.” Or coming back at all. Where could they be going that it would be worth risking the Deep Flux? The very thought reminded him, with a shiver, of the way Impris had vanished.
Tracy-Ace cocked her head slightly. “All that used to be true.”
“Used to be?” Legroeder blinked. “Are you telling me that you know how to navigate the Deep Flux? Go in and come back out again? Go where you’re supposed to go?” Not possible. Was it? Dear God.
Tracy-Ace gave the slightest of nods. “There are some problems, still. But it does work.”
Legroeder glanced at Deutsch. His cyborg friend was sitting silent and expressionless, easy enough to do with those damn silvered lenses for eyes. “Problems?”
“Perhaps Rigger Deutsch could explain it better,” Tracy-Ace said. “Rigger Deutsch?”
Freem’n whirred for a moment. “You know some of it already, Legroeder. The differences in our rigging techniques—”
“You mean the augments?”
“Of course. In our experience, the main problem with navigating the Deep Flux is the huge range of complex sensory elements that have to be translated and decoded before they can be perceived clearly. For that, we think you need augments.”
Legroeder stroked his temple, trying to consider Deutsch’s words without seeming to be puzzled. He didn’t want to make Barbados seem like a complete backwater outpost. He was certainly aware that the augments changed the overall look of things in the Flux; it was one reason for his aversion to them. He didn’t want the look of the Flux changed from something he could understand intuitively.
Deutsch seemed to read his thoughts. “It is one area in which the use of augments is superior.” Deutsch paused. “I take it the Narseil, in your observation, haven’t made much headway in this regard?”
Legroeder shook his head slowly. He was supposed to have been a spy among the Narseil. He had better be ready to convey intelligence about them. “None that they mentioned to me.”
“But they do have their own areas of great strength, and versatility, when it comes to rigging, yes?” Deutsch said.
“Certainly,” Legroeder answered, wondering why Deutsch was making that particular point now.
Tracy-Ace interrupted the chain of thought. “So, yes, we do have the ability to go through the Deep Flux. It’s not been perfected. But it’s good enough… or nearly so…” She pressed her lips together with what seemed a flash of pain, looking at the holo.
Good enough to risk an entire colony fleet? Legroeder was stunned by the thought. He wasn’t sure which dismayed him more, the thought of risking a whole fleet of ships in the Deep Flux, or the thought of new colonies being started by a band—an armada—of pirates.
“Legroeder?”
He blinked, turning.
“Come back.”
He exhaled slowly. “Sorry. What did you say?” He carefully lifted his cup of murk to his lips.
Tracy-Ace angled a curious gaze at him. “I was just wondering—does that view, by any chance, make you think of Impris?”
Legroeder choked on the thick, black liquid.
“Are you all right?”
He cleared his throat vigorously. “Yes—” he managed “—it does. I don’t, uh, know that much about Impris, actually.” He tried to control the flush in his face. “But I take it—you do?”
“Well, sure, we track it. Or rather, we don’t—but we receive reports on it from time to time from the outpost whose rotation it is to follow it.” She frowned. “Not very clear reports, mind you. If Kilo-Mike/Carlotta weren’t so damned chary with their data, I’d be able to show you its location on a chart.” Mercifully, she did not ask whether or why they did not have such information on Barbados.
He decided to head off the question anyway. “Really. I’ve always been interested in the ship—Flying Dutchman of the Stars, and all that—but I was never privy to that sort of information.”
“Bosses,” Deutsch interjected in a pleasant baritone. “Half of them won’t give you the information you need. And then they complain when you don’t get the job done right.”
Tracy-Ace eyed Deutsch with an unreadable expression. “Careful, there, Rigger Deutsch. You never know what a boss might hear.” Her cheekbone implants blinked. “Still, you do have a point. Some bosses delegate responsibility better than others. Certainly the bosses of different outposts do things in their own ways.”
// Shall we fill you in on that? //
Legroeder nodded as the internal voice provided details. The outposts of the Free Kyber Republic were joined in a loose confederation of worlds and fortresses—each with its distinctive culture and bosses. Each stronghold made its contribution to the group goals, such as the colonizing fleet; but rancorous disagreement was more common than not. The bosses made their own rules, treated their own people as they chose, and determined such things as when or how to raid Centrist shipping. Some gave their captains near-complete autonomy, with reward systems for bringing in booty such as captured ships and slaves. Others exercised tight control…
“Legroeder, are you listening?”
“Uh—yes.”
“I was talking about Impris. You said you were interested.”
“Yes. You say someone tracks her all the time?”
Tracy-Ace peered at him closely, which made him nervous. “Theoretically, someone keeps a ship in her vicinity at all times—though when the rotation changes from one outpost to another, things can go to hell pretty fast. She’s been lost more than once.”
Legroeder stared at her, wishing he had this conversation recorded.
// You do. //
He bobbed his head, trying not to show any reaction. “Why the, uh—rotation?” he asked, trying to sound guileless. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Tracy-Ace shrugged. “It’s hardly a secret. When Impris is in a participating boss’s territory, she makes a powerful bait for drawing in passing ships. It makes for such an easy kill.” She shook her head in apparent disdain. “Especially when the captains of the target ships are on the take, as has happened more than once.”