I’d send the Aux out of here. But out of here is free-floating in space, and even I am not that hardcore. Although I open my mouth to issue the order.
‘Go wait in the airlock.’
They look at me.
‘You can helmet up if you want.’
The Aux go as they are. It shows touching faith.
‘Sir,’ I say, when Colonel Vijay turns to follow.
‘I’ll be with the others,’ he says.
Having heard the inner door lock, and watched the light flicker on that tells me I can open the outer door if I want, and dump them all into space, I leave the Aux and Colonel Vijay to their thoughts. Who knows? If I were to dump them, maybe I’d have enough oxygen to take me somewhere useful.
And maybe I won’t.
‘General . . .’
‘Who is this?’
Haze has done what I ask to the letter. I am through on the general’s private line, minus a picture. And it doesn’t sound as if General Jaxx is too happy about being interrupted.
‘It’s me,’ I say, fumbling with screen controls.
Not the greatest opening line in the world, but it’s too late to worry about that. As I punch buttons in irritation, something shifts and a lenz starts working.
‘Tveskoeg . . . ? Now this is a surprise.’
I can almost hear his thoughts turn over. As a woman behind him is busy forcing her full breasts into a skimpy bra, I have obviously caught him at a bad time. It’s Caliente, from the brothel on board the general’s own mother ship. The fact she smiles when she sees me doesn’t help either.
‘Go,’ he says. For a second I think he is talking to me. And then I realize he isn’t. ‘I’ll call for you later.’
Her smile tightens. Turning her back on both of us, she climbs into her skirt, slips on a blouse and vanishes off screen. A second later, I hear a cabin door slamming. It sounds so close it makes me wonder what I’m doing here.
Only I know what I’m doing.
I’m obeying orders, more or less. And using my initiative. Even a general like Jaxx can hardly ask for more. Although he will. Generals always do.
‘Tveskoeg,’ he says. ‘I thought you were dead . . .’
‘Not here,’ I tell him. ‘And not yet.’ I end explaining that’s an Aux saying, and we’re sticking with it.
‘Aux,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘That’s your little group, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How long have you been together?’
I admit it’s only a matter of months. And he laughs at the idea of us having traditions, then decides it is not a laughing matter after all. Seems he’s recently taken a call from Paper Osamu. She regretted to announce I had been killed in a tragic accident. When I ask where, the general names a planet three systems away from here. I was on safari, a guest of a well-known anthropologist.
After telling me what anthropologist means, General Jaxx admits he did find it unlikely. ‘So where are you?’ he says. ‘And what’s with that absurd arm?’
‘Combat issue,’ I tell him. ‘Killed a couple of Vals with it.’
‘Did you now?’ he says.
‘Yes, sir. Got their implants in a jar. Intend to ship them back to Val Central if I get the chance. Feel we owe them that.’
‘And you’re where now?’
On a mining tug, floating in space, off the edge of a dead habitat. Where the fuck do you think we are? I don’t say it, obviously. But something about his question worries me.
Of course, the fact I’m talking to General Jaxx at all should worry me. Any general is dangerous. A Death’s Head general takes danger to new heights. And Jaxx commands the other generals. If half the things said about him are true, you could float entire planets in the blood he has spilt.
Life was simpler in the Legion. Only I’m not in the Legion any more.
‘Sir,’ I say. ‘Did Paper Osamu say why she wanted us? I mean originally, when the U/Free first borrowed the Aux?’ This is big-picture stuff, not something a lieutenant should ask a general. I know that, even before General Jaxx scowls.
He’s about to break the connection.
‘All I’m asking,’ I say, ‘is, was the job legit?’
The general looks puzzled.
‘It was one job, right?’
‘Right, sir.’
I ignore him. What’s he going to do?
‘One job, that’s right?’
His nod is slight. He seems to be watching, and I can see his eyes focus on something behind me. It’s probably one of the safety signs. Our tub is littered with them: although I can’t see the point. Anyone who doesn’t understand that explosives go bang or stepping into space without a suit kills is too stupid to be alive in the first place.
‘Sven,’ he says, ‘where are you?’
‘In a Z-class mining tug.’
He sighs. ‘I don’t want to know, do I?’
‘Sir,’ I say, surprising myself. ‘What was the job?’
The general glances out of screen, stands up and disappears. When he gets back, he’s clutching a floating lenz. This says some interesting things about his sex life. Although who am I kidding? I’d probably record my own, if I could afford the kit.
‘Capture or kill,’ he says. ‘You already know the target.’
Except I don’t, or maybe I do . . . One of us is in for a shock, and it is probably him. And since generals don’t like shocks, and I don’t like floating around in space miles from home, I am going to have to be careful how I word this.
‘Did you know about the party?’
‘On arrival?’ He nods, his smile mocking. ‘Oh yes,’ he says. ‘We heard all about your party. Quite the social animal.’
‘And did you hear about the person I killed?’
He goes still.
‘Sven,’ he says. ‘No one died at that party.’
‘They didn’t?’
‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘They didn’t. There was, however, a tragic accident later that evening. As you know-’ He catches himself. ‘Well, maybe you don’t.’
General Jaxx shakes his head.
‘Oregon Marx, the U/Free president,’ he says. ‘Died in a fall. You had nothing to do with that . . .’
‘I didn’t?’
Turns out the general isn’t telling me. It’s a question. ‘Sven,’ he says. ‘Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with that.’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with that.’
He sucks his teeth. Now generals don’t suck their teeth. Militia troopers suck their teeth. And then he looks at the lenz, checking it really is turned off. And he flips open a pad to pass his fingers across the top.
‘This line,’ he says.
‘Is secure . . . Haze set it up,’ I add, when the general looks doubtful.
‘Your pet Enlightened?’
‘Yes.’ I had forgotten he knew about that.
‘That party,’ he says. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘No, sir.’
‘You understand?’
‘Completely, sir,’ I say. ‘At that party Paper Osamu’s grandfather didn’t ask me to kill the president . . .’
The general shuts his eyes.
‘What about Hekati, sir . . . ? Also the general and the mother ship. What’s our position on those?’
He looks up from under half-open eyelids. And I’ve seen cats torturing half-dead mice look cuddlier. ‘Hekati,’ he says. ‘The general . . . Mother ship.’ A space is left between each item.
‘Yes, sir,’ I say. ‘What’s our position on those?’
‘Sven,’ he says. ‘There is no our . . . I’m here; you’re floating in a tin can somewhere. And this conversation is over.’
‘I know about the Ninth.’
General Jaxx halts, his hand an inch away from a switch that will shut me off and leave me floating out here. Because I have just realized something. The U/Free think we’re dead. So they’re not going to come racing out here to collect us either. But someone might find us, and he is not sure he can take that risk.
‘Where are the others?’ he asks me.
‘In the airlock, sir.’
The general looks at me, very strangely.
‘What are they doing in the airlock?’