But, instead, decided to try a little experiment.
“You coming?” Rainer asked, taking a pace toward the trail ahead. “Or are you still catching your breath?”
Kira raised a finger. “Just gimme a sec.”
Using the emanation of Fielder’s thoughts like a beacon, Kira let her own awareness be drawn to it. The instructors had gone to great pains to point out that they’d deliberately not defend themselves against attempts by the students to lift the correct course layout from their minds. The point of the exercise was to test their ability to read remote thoughts while exerting themselves physically. No doubt a future incarnation would have them trying to slip by the instructor’s mental defenses, probably at night and in the rain, too.
There. Sure enough, there it was, a conceptual understanding of the course, punctuated by memories of trails and junctions through the frond forest, like frozen images or brief, staccato bursts of video.
The trail ahead that Rainer had seen marked on the map wasn’t the right way. She pointed up, to the left-hand path. “That’s the right direction.”
Rainer put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Not what the map said.”
“I know.”
“Why would they have a map in the orderly room showing the wrong course?”
“Maybe it was something else—” Kira began, then stopped, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. Have you ever seen a map hanging in the OR before?”
“No, but I don’t make a habit of hanging out with the company brass.”
Kira nodded. “Same, but . . . it’s just too convenient.”
“What, you think it was a setup?”
“Forcing us to choose between trusting a strange map or our own Joining?”
Rainer nodded. “Damn good point, Wixcombe.”
“It’s Kira.”
“Okay, Kira. I’m still Rainer.”
Kira chuckled. “Okay, so I guess we’re going that way,” she said, turning toward the left-hand trail. But it was Rainer who didn’t move this time.
“You know, I’m not the only one who would have gone into that orderly room. In fact, now that I think about it, there were more than a few little errands to drop stuff off there. Remember, just yesterday Max got sent there to go pick up some papers that turned out not to be ready? So Narvez got pissed over it, then sent Wylie back—”
“Yeah.” Kira nodded. “Yeah. I can think of at least two or three times the day before, too.”
“Sneaky bastards, aren’t they?”
Kira nodded again. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“That we’re going to stay here and make sure that anyone coming behind us doesn’t go the wrong way because they saw the map?”
For a third time, Kira nodded. “Yeah.”
“Means we’re definitely gonna be last,” Rainer said. “Or at least I am, because you can just take the lead right near the end.” She shrugged. “Whatever.”
This time, Kira shook her head. “Nope. We’re crossing that finish line at exactly the same time.”
“Up to you. I won’t say no to some company on the extra shit duties, though.”
5
Thorn clattered into the quarters he’d been assigned at Code Gauntlet, one of a bunch of rooms—although airless cubbyhole was probably more correct—reserved for transient personnel. The Hecate had finally been pulled back from patrol duties and was now stood down, starting a series of upgrades to her point-defense systems and sensor suite that would take her offline for at least a week. All non-essential personnel had been disembarked to keep them out of the way.
And a Starcaster was, apparently, near the top of that non-essential list.
Not that Thorn really minded. He might have had more expansive quarters aboard the Hecate, but he also shared them with two other junior officers. This might be a glorified closet, but as an officer he was entitled to better accommodations than the sprawling, dorm-style barracks that were home to all but the most senior enlisted personnel.
So he had walls. And a door. And that meant privacy.
He also had access to comms—the first such access that wasn’t locked down for operational security reasons, in fact, since about three weeks ago. Since Kira abruptly left Code Gauntlet, and then he’d been yanked onto active duty aboard the Hecate and couldn’t even contemplate sending a personal message.
Until now.
Thorn tossed his duffle bag on the bed, which was squeezed beside the terminal and the tiny, stool-like chair attached to it.
“Small, but at least it’s charmless,” he said, then rolled his shoulders, feeling some tension begin to release. Having any sense of permanency at all was an improvement over the shiftless life of someone who’d lost everything at a young age.
Clearing his mind, he drew in a breath and spoke to his terminal. “Open a comm message,” he said, and the terminal lit up.
“Real-time or remote comms?” the terminal asked.
The AI voice was curt and crisp; nothing like Trixie, the AI that oversaw Mol’s Gyrfalcon fighter aboard the Apollo. He let himself spend a moment wondering how Mol and Trixie were doing, then shook himself back into the moment. Thorn’s mind was drifting, and a glance at his bed suddenly looked told him why.
“Remote only.”
“State recipient name, location ID, and security classification.”
“Lieutenant Kira Wixcombe, Code Nebula, station ID . . .” He couldn’t remember the specific comms ID, which was just a string of digits. He shrugged. “You’re supposed to be artificially intelligent. It’s Code Nebula.”
“Location ID accepted.”
“Good. Security classification is . . . unclassified but personal.”
“Low priority assigned to message. Ready to record.”
Unclassified, personal messages might be assigned low priority ratings automatically, but it struck Thorn that, for most people, personal messages to friends and family were probably the highest priority. Still, arguing with an AI was a losing game, so he let it go.
“Kira, it’s Thorn. I’m here, in a jumped-up version of a shipping container, but I’ve got a bed and a place to think.” He exhaled, choosing his words carefully. “When you get this, things will have changed, and changed again. I think—I think that’s how our lives are going to be until we kick the last Nyctus back across their systems and remove their ability to ever harm us again. I don’t know when that will be, or even if that will be, but we’re not kids anymore. I’m not even sure I’m entirely human, sometimes, given how other ON personnel look at me. You know what I mean, given that you’re a Joiner and people can sense your ability, sometimes. Sense it and resent it. When you come back out into the stars to fight, I’ll be here, and I will need your Joining. So perfect it. Be as strong as you can, and bring that will—the will I saw you use when we were young? That kind of iron. Bring it with you, out here, to us, and to me and everyone else fighting our way across this bloody path.” He let a long breath out, rubbing his face with a hand. “I’ll be here. Be safe, and come help us win this fight. Even when you think you’re alone, you’re not. I’m here.” Again, he paused. “End message.”