Chapter Nine
Prinn Pratti knelt in her quarters aboard the freelance freighter Practical and prayed. The shrine wasn’t large or fancy. Just a foldout cupboard with a simple mosaic of Pathfinder, depicting the Guardian Deity as a halo of flaming satellites above Sol. A prominence arced from the star, and Pathfinder collected the fiery matter into globes within its great halo.
A trio of incense sticks burned, standing upright in a small bowl of sand, the smoke rising to Prinn’s nostrils. She closed her eyes and breathed in, enjoying the pleasant scent of burning wood as she meditated on her morning prayers.
All Prattis prayed to Pathfinder. Even the Aiko branch, when they actually did pray, worshiped the Explorer God. Pathfinder embodied the mystery of the unknown and the joy of discovery, which must have appealed to the Aikos as well. Prinn knew that’s why she prayed to the god, but she’d never broached the topic with any of the other copy-clan branches.
The Jovian faith of Tetrad differed from the Church of Pentatheon in many ways beyond excluding Divergence. Certainly, that difference was the largest and most noticeable, but the Church came with a great many trappings Jovians found tedious. It was a massive organization with a formal hierarchy that dictated doctrine and oversaw how its many members should or should not pray to the Guardian Deities.
Tetrad possessed no such central authority. No one would ever stand over her shoulder and chastise her, saying “That is not an approved prayer!” She considered Tetrad’s openness—its acceptance of each individual’s method of prayer—as a strength of her faith. Her prayers were her own and no one else’s. Why would she wish to filter her meditations through the prism of someone else’s dogma?
Her Saturnian comrades disagreed with her, of course. Respectfully, but insistently. She’d never found a need to discuss religion within her own copy-clan, but the Practical’s Saturnian crew would bring up the topic at the drop of a hat!
She doubted this was typical behavior, but instead a by-product of them working alongside someone as “exotic” as her. She supposed she could understand this, though their constant requests for “intellectual dialogues” became tedious at times.
She’d chosen a body that resembled flesh and blood when she’d signed up for the Practical, though her blue skin and silver eyes ensured she stood out, at least a little. The Practical’s crew of fifty-five came in a variety of shapes and colors—from baseline to obscure divergents and everything in between.
Personally, she preferred the utility of more mechanized bodies, but she couldn’t deny the social benefits of her choice. She’d even received a few friendly solicitations and had taken them up on their offers of nocturnal “cultural exchanges.”
The novelty of her time on the Practical was one of the reasons she’d decided to do it, if only with one body. She could never see herself going deviant like the Aikos had, but a part of her felt some of the same tendencies worming their way through her mind, tugging at her as she contemplated a break from the Everlife.
Just contemplated, though. Never seriously.
But the thoughts were there, and she’d hit upon the idea of signing up with a Saturnian crew to serve as a sort of reprieve from her frustrations with the Everlife, one that she could share with the rest of her branch once she returned and her memories were reintegrated.
Her commect chimed, and she opened her eyes and answered it.
“Go ahead.”
“Prinn, we need you on the bridge.” She recognized the voice of Captain Xavier vaas Rhea, and she picked up on the unusual edge to his tone. Normally, he would call and open with a phrase like “Would you please come to the bridge, Prinn?” It would still be an order, but he seemed to favor an affable approach with his crew.
This sounded far more urgent.
“Right away, Captain.” She doused the incense in the sand, closed the shrine’s two small doors, and exited her quarters.
The Practical was on its way to Neptune with a hold stuffed to the ceiling with expensive Saturnian goods. They were still five days out from the gas giant, which made Prinn wonder what could be worrying the captain.
The ship felt and sounded normal, and the crew members she passed on her way to the bridge didn’t seem to be rushing toward any sort of emergency. She took an elevator up to A Deck and headed straight for the bridge.
“That is a negative, Leviathan!” shouted the commect officer. Prinn didn’t remember his name. “Again, we are in open space and do not recognize your authority here!”
“You wished to see me, Captain?” Prinn asked, joining Xavier, who stood behind the commect officer with a dour expression.
“Yes,” he replied quietly, stepping back from the commect station. “We have a bit of a situation brewing, and I thought you might be able to help.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“There’s a Jovian ship a couple thousand kilometers to our rear and closing. A big sucker called the Leviathan of Io. It’s telling us we need to cut our thrust and prepare to receive their boarding parties for inspection.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Prinn exclaimed. “They can’t make us do that. Not this far from Jupiter. They have no right!”
“That’s what we keep telling them, but they’re not backing off, which has me worried.” Xavier leaned closer. “I’ve dealt with belligerent Jovians before. Ones that’ll throw their weight around in an attempt to rattle us, but that’s as far as it ever goes. This feels different. The Leviathan sounds deadly serious about boarding us. Can you think of any reason why a Jovian cruiser would suddenly take an interest in us?”
“No, Captain.” Prinn shook her head. “Maybe if we were coming from or heading to Jupiter, but all we’re doing is hauling Saturnian goods to Neptune. The only thing I can think of is perhaps there’s been a recent shift in Jovian policy, but if so, I’ve never heard so much as a rumor of it.”
“Thought so.” He nudged his head toward the commect officer. “Would you be willing to give it a try? Maybe they’ll listen to you.”
“I can certainly try. Though, I don’t know how much good it’ll do.”
“That’s all I ask.” The captain nodded to the commect officer, who nodded back.
“Practical to Leviathan. We have a Jovian crew member who wishes to speak with you concerning your demands.” He paused, pressing the headset firmly against his ear, and his brow creased. “Yes . . . yes, her name is Prinn Pratti.”
What? Prinn thought. They know I’m on this ship?
“Friends of yours?” Xavier asked.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“Here.” The commect officer stripped off his headset and handed it to Prinn. “I hope you have better luck than me.”
“Thanks.”
He made room for her, and she sat down and fitted on the headset.
“Leviathan, this is Prinn Pratti. Come in, please.”
“Stand by. Transferring call to the apex.”
“Excuse me?” she snapped. “Are you seriously putting me on hold?”
“Transferring now.”
The other end of the line muted. She turned back to the captain and gave him an annoyed what-the-hell shrug and pointed to the headset.
“Just try your best,” he urged quietly.
“I will.”
What is going on here? Why switch me over to the apex?
She heard a click, followed by a smooth chuckle.
“Hello, Prinn. It’s been a while.”
The voice dredged up her memories of Aiko leaving the Everlife under less-than-auspicious circumstances. Members of other Pratti branches, the Prinns included, had been brought in to assist in the investigation. An investigation headed by—
“Xormun?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“Which branch?”
“Galatt Xormun.”
“You’re the Leviathan’s apex?” she asked, suddenly worried.
“You make that sound like it’s such a bad thing.”
“Well . . .” She wasn’t sure what to say. On the surface, Xormun had worked with the Prattis to diagnose what had gone wrong with Aiko, but Prinn had long believed his real directive had been to root out other potential deviants in the clan and, if he found any, to eliminate them.
No purges had taken place, thankfully, but that didn’t change the cold, shuddering fear his voice filled her with.
“Captain,” she said shakily. “We should do what he says. Cut our engines now before the situation escalates.”
“Please, you’re overreacting,” Xormun said, sounding almost bored. “I take it you’re on the Practical’s bridge?”
“Why do you ask?”
“A simple yes or no, please.”
“Yes. What of it?”
“Excellent. It seems you won’t have to cut your engines after all. See you soon, Prinn.”
“What’s that supposed to—”
The top of the bridge exploded, and air rushed out, carrying debris and bridge officers with it. The powerful suction lifted her out of the seat, but she grabbed a handhold on top of the station’s console and wrestled herself back to the floor. Xavier crashed into her back, arms grasping vainly for something to hold on to, and she reached and caught his forearm.
The initial blast of escaping air subsided, and loose objects fell to the floor thanks to the ship’s constant acceleration. Prinn landed on her feet, and Xavier staggered into her, his eyes wide with terror, hand at his throat as he began to asphyxiate.
She grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him toward the nearest pressure door. The bridge’s two exit doors had slammed shut in response to the decompression, but the corridors beyond them could double as long, impromptu airlocks in an emergency.
Prinn reached the nearest one and triggered the override. The door slid open, and another blast of air blew her back. She fought through it, then chucked Xavier inside, and shut the door. Emergency systems pumped breathable air into the corridor, and she watched Xavier through the porthole as he gasped for breath.
She turned away and faced what was left of the bridge, searching for anyone else she could save.
Instead, she spotted a trio of Jovian commandos, their red-and-gold armor gleaming in the light. They dropped through the hole in the bridge ceiling, each equipped with a rifle.
Where did you jerks come from? Prinn thought venomously. The Leviathan is thousands of kilometers away! Did Xormun deploy a stealthed ship ahead of his cruiser? That’d be just like him, that snake!
Those thoughts shot through Prinn’s mind in a flash of reasoning, all while the nearest commando charged at her. She backpedaled, and when the commando reached for her with his free hand, she kicked him in the abdomen. He stumbled back, and she used the opening to grab his rifle, trying to wrest control of the weapon from him.
The other two commandos flanked her, even as she tried in vain to yank the gun out of the first commando’s grasp. Something glinted to her right, and she spun at the last moment, only to see the translucent edge of a vibro-knife slash through her throat.
The attack must have damaged some of her motor functions because her fingers loosened around the rifle. The first commando shoved her back, his rifle still firmly in his hands, and Prinn teetered backward on the heels of her feet.
One of the commandos grabbed her by the hair and slashed the knife through what remained of her throat. He yanked her head free, and the rest of her flopped to the ground.
Her head, now severed from the body’s power supply, began to shut down. The small capacitor inside her skull drained out rapidly, since its purpose was to smooth out power fluctuations rather than act as a reserve. One of the commandos stuffed her head into a backpack, and her mind shut down.
Prinn awoke to unfamiliar senses. She was on a table in a small room with a door directly in front of her. At first, she thought she was still just a head, but the visuals were wrong. Too muddy and monochrome to be her previous eyes, and they lacked depth perception. Had her persona been transferred to a different body? If so, for what purpose? They’d cut off her head! What was she going to do? Gnaw at their ankles?
She tried to blink. Nothing happened. Did she even have eyelids anymore?
She waited.
Watched.
And listened.
But didn’t hear anything.
Is this body deaf? she thought. What kind of sick joke is this?
Time passed. How long, she couldn’t say, but she found the silent monotony almost unbearable. She wanted to call out, to move around the room, to do something! But couldn’t. She was helpless. Just a nondescript lump on the table.
Finally, mercifully, the pressure door opened.
Galatt Xormun walked in. He did so love those ostentatious metal-skinned bodies of his. This one was gold, and then two more Xormuns entered the room, each silver-skinned.
<Hello Prinn.> The gold Xormun pulled out a chair and sat down in front of her. His copies disappeared to either side of her. Her body’s vision was unusually narrow and she had no way to turn around.
<What the fuck, you lunatic!> she snapped, wondering if he could hear her wireless speech.
<It’s nice to see you, too, Prinn.> He flashed a quick, cold smile.
<Do you have any idea how many treaties you just violated?>
<Oh, give me a moment.> He glanced up at the ceiling. <Three or four, I think.>
<What is wrong with you? Are you trying to start a war?>
<I wouldn’t be too concerned about that. The Union isn’t going to charge headlong into a war they can’t win over something so trivial as one ship.>
<One ship?> she repeated. But then a chilling realization settled in her mind. <You don’t mean . . . ?>
<Yes. The Practical is no more.> He made circular motions with one hand. <Or it will be in a few days. The crew is dead, at any rate, while a few of my commandos remain on board. They’re going to dump the ship into the Neptunian depths. A couple thousand atmospheres of pressure should take care of the evidence nicely.>
<People will notice the ship’s missing! They’ll want an explanation!>
<I’m sure they will, but they’ll find answers are in short supply. Not that I brought you here to discuss Everlife-Union politics. How have you been, by the way? Life been treating you all right?>
<My own clan will look into this!>
<So what if they do? You’re one copy from a questionable, almost deviant branch. How much would they really care? I mean, serving on a Saturnian ship?> He shook his head disapprovingly. <That’s not a very good look. What’s the point of hanging out with these short-lived protein lumps, anyway?>
<It was a nice change of pace until someone murdered all my shipmates!>
<I’ll take your word for it.> He leaned back. <I suppose you’d like to know why we brought you here?>
<The question had crossed my mind,> she seethed.
<Ever hear of a woman named Vessani S’Kaari?>
<What’s it to you?>
<Pure, academic curiosity, I assure you.>
<Oh, go fuck yourselves!>
<This is a serious question. Ever come across the name?>
<Even if I had, I’m not telling you anything! You think I’ll help you after what you just pulled? You don’t scare me! You might kill me, but so what? My copies will live on, and you’ll still not have what you want!>
<Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.> Xormun sat forward, his leering face uncomfortably close. <I’m not threatening to kill you. Death threats are a thing for organics.>
<Then what are you doing?>
<I’m offering to end your life.>
<Not much of an offer, then.>
<You think so? Here. Let me show you.> One of the silver Xormuns handed the apex a small mirror, and he held it up for her, revealing the true nature of her new body.
There wasn’t much to it. Just a box with a single camera wrapped in black solar skin. He propped the mirror up and angled it so she could still see the body.
<Allow me to explain your options.> Xormun knitted his fingers. <First, you can continue to deny me the information I seek, which will eventually result in us kicking you off the ship. Literally, and in your current state, minus the ability to transmit. You’ll be nothing more than a box floating through the void, unable to do anything, unable to say anything, just a passive observer as you float around for who knows how long, your solar skin keeping your mind running for untold centuries of helplessness.>
<You’d do that to one of your own?!> she quavered, icy fear gripping her mind.
<If you force my hand. Or—if you find that option not to your liking—you can tell me what I want to know. Who she is. Where she is. Where she’s going and why. What Aiko Pratti has to do with her. Everything and anything you know about this woman, her dealings, and her associations, all down to the smallest possible detail you can recall.
<That’s not such a difficult ask, now, is it?> He smiled at her. <And once you’ve done that, once you’ve helped me to my satisfaction, then and only then will I let you die. Otherwise . . . >
Xormun rose from his seat and picked her up. The room swung drunkenly until he spun her around, revealing she’d been in an airlock this whole time.
One of the silver bodies opened the airlock to the starry vacuum of space, and Xormun held her out the side of the skyscraper-like ship.
<What’ll it be?> he asked with sinister relish.
<Who would have guessed?> Xormun said with a half smile as he leaned over the bridge’s central vlass. <Aiko Pratti still hanging around Captain Nathaniel Kade. I thought she had more sense than that.>
<Apex?> asked one of the data analysts.
<Pay me no mind. Just reminiscing about an old case. Aiko was a deviant whose breakaway I investigated some five years ago. I even advised hunting her down and terminating her as a signal to the rest of the Prattis, but our superiors decided to let the matter pass quietly.> He shrugged with indifference, then grinned. <Oh, well. I’m sure they know what’s best.>
<Shall I set a course for Neptune?> the pilot asked.
<No.> Xormun surveyed the various windows open in the vlass, from navigational charts to intelligence profiles and deviant bios. <I doubt the Neptune Belle is still there, and if it is, we’re likely to miss it. We’ll peel off one corvette to follow up that lead. Perhaps they’ll discover something in Port Leverrier that will shed light on the Belle’s next destination, while we head for the Habitat Belt.>
<But where in the Belt, sir? We still don’t know which habitat S’Kaari was born on.>
<True, but we need to be in position to act swiftly as new information comes in. One point in the Belt will do as well as any other until we can narrow down our search, which is where our corvettes will come into play. It now falls on us to predict our quarry’s next move. For instance, I believe it’s entirely possible the Belle will head for Kirkwood to investigate Anterus’s disappearance.>
<We already have an asset nearby,> the data analyst pointed out.
<Yes, and that corvette should stay there for the time being. That leaves us with six to distribute to other possible destinations.>
Xormun looked over Nathan Kade’s file. There wasn’t a great deal of information present, since the Neptune Belle had rarely run afoul of Jovian operations, but the incident surrounding Aiko Pratti’s breakaway five years ago had been enough to activate a basic level of intelligence gathering for the Neptune Belle and its crew.
This meant Xormun already possessed some information to work with, such as a list of known associates. It was this list that drew his eye the most. Kade and Aiko both had some experience with pentatech, if fleeting and of the variety that might earn them “I survived my brush with pentatech” T-shirts and not much else. Interestingly, Kade’s father had been well versed in the subject. For a Neptunian, at least. But he was dead, and nothing in the record indicated his son had taken to the subject with the same enthusiasm.
Which meant Kade and Aiko didn’t have the skills to see this particular venture through. Not on their own, and nothing in their record indicated they were stupid. They would seek out and hire the expertise they needed.
The question remained, where would they find it?
Vessani S’Kaari and Joshua Cotton were two variables to consider, but the first was easy enough to eliminate. S’Kaari had a low-tech upbringing, which made her an even worse choice than Kade and Aiko for dealing with pentatech safely.
That left Cotton, whom Xormun had little information on. It was possible Cotton possessed the skills the Belle’s crew lacked, which also meant there was a chance the Belle would head straight for S’Kaari’s home, depriving Xormun of his opportunity to catch them at an intermediate stop.
If that happened, then he might actually have to search the Habitat Belt for the right place, though this wasn’t as disastrous as it might have seemed. Prinn’s information about the Platinum Corsairs meant they’d picked Vessani up from the original criminals who snatched her, so he’d already begun the process of requesting the relevant mission records.
Those records wouldn’t give him the habitat itself, but they could narrow his search.
But in the meantime, he possessed six uncommitted corvettes, and he intended to put them to good use. He took another hard look at Kade’s list of associates, filtered it for people who had at least some experience working around pentatech, then filtered it again based on how certain Jovian intelligence was about their current locations, creating a list of the top six locations.
He passed the list on for distribution to the Leviathan’s corvettes.
One of those locations was an open-ring habitat called Faelyn’s Grasp.