“How do you know about Hope?” said Nate.
“I’m good with systems too,” she said. “I need to know about where I crew.”
“Why?” said Nate. “Person with your talents should be able to find a home on any boat. Why my crew?”
Grace turned back to him, something nasty in her voice. But nasty at him or her, he couldn’t tell. “Because I need you. Because you need me. All there is to it.”
“That’s not all there is to it,” said Nate. “Who are you, Grace Gushiken?”
“Just an Assessor,” said Grace, and Nate could feel the lie this time.
• • •
The dropship scudded over the surface of the water under Nate’s guidance. They were approaching the dock from the sea. Absalom was beautiful, the water a clear blue, the clouds puffs of white cotton in the sky above them. He could see the land as they approached, green and lush and vibrant. A paradise at the edge of Republic space, open for all colonists who wanted a fresh start on a clean planet.
He gave the thrusters a blast as they came in, bringing the belly of the ship in at an angle, then settling it down flat on the landing pad. “I would say,” said Nate, “that this is the weirdest spaceport I’ve ever seen.”
Kohl was already up and at his shoulder, looking out through the cockpit. “Where the fuck is everybody?”
“There’s no one here,” said Grace. He brow furrowed. “There’s … no one here.”
The comm had stayed silent as they were on approach, Nate’s attempts to hail the planet failing. There was no one there, or no one cared to speak to them. Either way, they may as well have been the only humans out here on the edge of humanity’s reach. He ran a hand through his hair, then said, “Well, hell with it. Let’s go find Penn.”
The doors of the dropship opened to sweet, sweet air. So clean. None of the smell of human industry — no ozone, no chemicals, nothing burning. Quiet. There was a light breeze, but no noise carried on it. A bird hovered in the air, slipstreaming and happy. “This looks like paradise,” said Nate, “so why is my skin crawling?”
“General vibe,” said Kohl. He hopped past Nate and landed on the landing pad with a clank of power armor. “Like, because everyone is dead everywhere we’ve been in the past three days, so you know. General vibe.”
“You’re saying it’s me,” said Nate. “Are you saying it’s me?”
“Maybe,” said Kohl. He squinted at Nate. “You keep promising pirates to shoot, but you’re not delivering, Cap. You hear me?”
“Sorry,” said Nate, stepping down. Goddamn but 1.1G feels heavier than it should. On a good day — not too much booze that week — he sauntered around at 85kgs in Earth’s standard 1G. Here, that felt closer to 95kg. He was glad he’d only packed his blaster, strapped at his side. No sword. Probably won’t use that damn thing ever again. Grace followed him down. Nate turned back to the dropship, closed the lock, and coded it with their IDs. He didn’t want someone stealing their only ride out, because there weren’t any other ships here at the spaceport. Not one. Not a dropship, not a shuttle, not a lifter. Zero ships. Which wasn’t a good sign for a spaceport, as it left it without purpose. He tapped on the console at his wrist. “Okay, here we are.” The holo spun in the air between them, a map laid out between the space port and the admin center. “Penn says he’s in there. Got the thing locked up tight. I say it looks like five klicks of walking, we grab the Rear Admiral, and take off. If our luck holds a little longer … well. What could go wrong?”
Grace shrugged, sliding her sword behind her, and walked off. Kohl made a noise that sounded like an idling engine, then set off after her.
At least Penn had promised a heavy bonus for this. If they could avoid him spacing them and get paid, this trip might end up being profitable for them all.
Like he’d said. What could go wrong?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“It’s too hot,” said Kohl, rumbling along ahead of them. That rotary laser was locked behind him, the automount holding it out of the way, a backpack full of angry wasps should the situation arise. His power armor clanked and whined as he moved. Sweat and a surly expression vied for dominance on Kohl’s face.
“You’re just fat and heavy,” said Nate, at Grace’s side. She hid a smile. Don’t engage. Don’t be with them. Be the eye of the storm. She didn’t need her visor down. Grace was used to this dance; she knew this music. She just needed a way out. A new crew to join.
It wasn’t looking good, though. Where was everyone? Penn had said people were after him, but this place was like an empty set before the holo started shooting.
Or an empty set, after the shooting was over.
Say what you will about Kohl, but the man wasn’t fat. He looked solid, like a piece of concrete. Drop him in the ocean and he’d sink like a stone. Grace felt the heat of the day already, the heavier than normal gravity doing her no favors. Too much time on a ship, not enough time in the exercise room. Kohl walked through it like none of it touched him at all; not the extra Gs, not the laser, and not the rising heat of the day.
Her hand found the hilt of her sword. She winced, her shoulder giving her an ungentle stab of pain as she moved. That’s not good.
What really was not good was the lack of people. She couldn’t feel anyone. Not any anger. Not any fear. No petty jealousies, no egos, no one trying to put one over on anyone else. If she didn’t have the touch of uncertainty caressing her spine, giving her shivers through the sweat, she’d have thought this was paradise.
Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace.
She whirled, hand still on the hilt of her sword. No one. Not one soul in front of the place that looked like it sold cold ice cream on a hot day. Not a standing, breathing human in the med center, not injured, not healthy, just not there. A casino stood with a door ajar, holos promising a jackpot every day, except there wasn’t anyone there to win.
“You okay?” Nate’s hand was on her arm. She looked at it, and he pulled it away. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re good,” she said. It wasn’t his metal hand, and it had felt … nice.
No. It hadn’t felt nice. You’re not with this crew. You are Grace Gushiken, and you walk alone.
“See something?” said Kohl, turning in place. Taking in the empty buildings, the shops devoid of customers. Empty cars.
“I … no,” she said. “I … thought. I thought I heard something.” Grace ran a hand over her face. It came away wet with sweat. The extra weight and the heat was getting to her; what should have been a warm summer’s day was a hot workout. “I … want to hear something.”
“Yeah,” said Nate.
Ahead of them, a bus sat in the road. It was empty, but the door was open at the front. It was stretched long and thin, solar collectors making the exterior gold and shiny. On a hunch, she entered, the shade promising a little respite from the sun.
The bus was a standard auto, no pilot’s chair, just seats aisle along the aisle. Holos shimmered on the walls, ads for products that would make you … whatever you wanted. The lighting strips in the bus were out, the interior painted by shifting colors of reds, blues, whites, greens from the holos. It was empty, but it wasn’t unscathed. The first seats she saw were rent, memory foam and material shredded. A faint muddy stain that might have been blood. Hard to tell with the shifting, muted lighting. She walked further into the bus. Grace’s gaze settled on a scrap of golden color, and she bent to pick it up.
A child’s toy, a small lion with a happy tongue and a fluffy mane. Dropped, lost, left here in this bus. She put the toy down, looked at other seats. More belongings: clutches, satchels, bags, a coat. There, a paper bag full of rotting vegetables. This bus had been carrying people, and those people were gone. Like they’d been sucked from the surface of Absalom and … just taken.