A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle) (29 page)

A short while later
, Marc's face was almost an apparition in the dim light that filled the compartment. "It may be dark," he said, "but at least it's cramped, too."

Michael chuckled quietly from where he sat
with his back to the wall. Between them lay the still unconscious body of Diomedes. "Better than being outside while Jer and his sister wander the station. Wish I knew how long he'll be under, though."

"Right up until it's time for us to leave, let's hope."

"He'll be pissed when he wakes up."

"Oh, I never would've guessed."

"Yeah." Michael sighed inwardly, unable to say he'd mind if Diomedes stayed out for a while, either. "Could be worse, though. We're lucky you found this place."

"Lucky, nothing. I've had my eye out for one since we got here.
I almost suggested it right after we met Diomedes, but I didn't want to test my claustrophobia."

Uh oh.
"You're claustrophobic?"

"Just a
little. I'll be fine unless I can't move my arms."

"So far, so good, then."

They'd made for the tiny compartment almost immediately after getting through the emergency door, using a nearby luggage car to allegedly carry Diomedes to an infirmary. Things outside had been chaotic. Their accusations that Jer and his sister caused the alarm further added to the confusion and let them get away clean. Marc had led them straight to the AoA-placed compartment, opened it with his palm chip, and rushed them inside.

"Too bad the shuttle won't have something like this."

Michael nodded. "He didn't say where it was even, did he?"

"Nope.
You're thinking about sneaking on board, I hope?"

It was a bad idea,
but was it any worse than abandoning Marc to Diomedes's care for the rest of the trip? "I don't know. If he catches me trying? And we don't even know if the shuttle's big enough. He might be telling the truth about that."

"He's made sure we need him, hasn't he?"

"Don't think it's not intentional, either. I'd bet he knew about the wait before he told us, too." Marc gave a grunt, and silence followed. Michael checked his watch. Four and a half hours left. He tried to shift to keep from getting stiff.

"You know," Marc whispered after a time, "once we actually get to the shuttle, how much do we really need him after that?"

Michael checked to make sure Diomedes was still out before answering. "I guess it depends on what we need to launch it. Some sort of code or pass, maybe."

"We should check him.
See what he's got."

"Search him?"

"Yeah." Marc nodded encouragingly and motioned toward the man.

Michael scowled at the prospect, but then moved forward onto his knees and, carefully, checked through Diomedes'
s pockets. It didn't take long to find something. After pulling out a device twice the size of a deck of cards that Marc was positive was the data leech, they found them: zippered inside a breast pocket along with an odd-looking, pen-sized object were two access cards. He took them out and showed them to Marc. "What's this?" he whispered, pointing to what looked like a tiny touch-screen built onto the back of one of the cards. "The other doesn't have it."

Marc took it from him.
"Master link. Connects the two cards so one can't be used without the other. This thing verifies the ID of whoever's using it."

"So we couldn't use it without him."

Marc looked a little closer at the card. "Maybe. He's right here. I'm not sure yet what this checks—fingerprint, DNA, or whatever; probably fingerprint—but if I figure that out, I might be able to reset it for you to use."

"All before he wakes up?" Michael asked.
"That's a lot of mights."

"
Maybe. But it's not impossible. And if it works, then we don't need him anymore."

The compartment went silent as Marc's statement hung in the air over Diomedes'
s body. "Then what do we do with him?" Michael asked. "And what if he has to report to Fagles and he finds out what we did?"

"Yeah, but you really think that guy would sabotage us?
We'll still use his leech. I doubt he's anything to gain by stopping us if he thinks we're doing what he wants anyway. Besides, you heard him; he doesn't like Diomedes any more than we do."

"Yeah
. But, again, what happens to Diomedes? We can't just shoot him, you know."

"I didn't say we
should! But we just, well, leave him here."

"Here. I
n this compartment."

Marc shrugged.
"I more meant on the station in general."

"Which will put him in
a fantastic mood when we come through here on the return trip." Michael shifted again, still trying to get comfortable.

"One problem at a time.
" Marc sighed. "There are those two freelancers out there. Or even just station security. We tell them who he is, and they'll pick him up. Then he won't be here when we come back."

Michael scowled. "I don't guess now is
quite the best time for you to have contact with any security personnel."

"Security here's not ESA. The fake ID should be enough to shield me here if it comes up."

"It's still a risk."

"Okay, but
—"

"And I'm
not going to just turn him over to the bounty hunters just because it's convenient."

Marc took
a breath. "But if we don't need him— It's not like he's a nice guy. He kills people for money."

"Look, maybe
. . ." Michael scowled at himself in the dark. He knew Marc was right, so why was he defending Diomedes? "I'm not saying he doesn't deserve what he gets if he screws up and Fagles cuts him loose, but I—we—can't just give him up like this."

Marc watched him a moment.
"You don't owe him anything, you know."

"Yeah, I do.
I hate it, but I do." He threw up his hands. "Or maybe I don't, I don't know. I doubt he'd hesitate to turn me in if he was in my shoes. He might even laugh at me for having to think about it, but. . ."

Suddenly he couldn't think of what else to say.
A part of him wanted to just do it: cut the man loose completely to hang on his own rope. "But we can't do that," he said finally. "Not—not yet, I mean. We don't know who hired him, we don't know about the rest of the trip. . . Heck, we might need him just to fly the damn shuttle. I'm not a pilot."

"Is he?" Marc asked.

"More than me, at least. I mean, maybe I can handle a little, but if it doesn't have a pre-programmed autopilot we'd be in trouble. The point is we don't know enough yet. We can work on getting me on the shuttle with you two, but we can't abandon him right now."

Marc was quiet
for a time, presumably considering. "Maybe you're right. Wish you weren't, but I'll deal with it." He examined the pass cards again for a moment. "But we're going to have to cut him loose eventually, you know. One way or another. With everything he's done—and what we're planning—it's not likely to turn out well for him."

Michael nodded but gave no further comment.
Why was this bothering him so much? He'd known that they were only helping Diomedes temporarily. Certainly the freelancer held no love for him of late. Maybe that was the difference between them, he thought. Diomedes wouldn't be bothered if their places were switched.

Or would he?
The fact remained that Diomedes sheltered him when Michael first came to Northgate. There would have been selfishness behind that kindness, though for all Michael searched, he had to admit he couldn't find it. Even so, the older man had treated him poorly at times, even maliciously. How much had Diomedes really been looking out for him? How much of the man's true self had Michael been unwilling to see because he'd needed Diomedes protection then?

He needed Diomedes again now
. Was the same thing happening again, making him rush to the man's aid, making him defend against abandoning him now? Michael's skin crawled at the idea that he might be as foolish now as he was then. Did he still need to use Diomedes as a crutch?

Yet that wasn't what was happening now, he reminded himself.
There was more at stake than just Michael's own needs. The AoA were counting on him.

Again, h
e looked at Diomedes. Yes, there would soon come a time when, once they'd gotten what they needed from him, he'd be brought to whatever justice he had coming. But Michael owed a little more to the man who'd put a roof over his head than a slit throat—however figurative—while he slept.

E
ven if that same roof had burned down due to Diomedes's own recklessness.

Apparently finished examining the pass cards, Marc replaced them where he'd found them.
"Wish I knew what this was," he mused, holding up the pen-sized object. "Any ideas?"

"Nu
h uh," Michael grunted. "He likes gadgets."

Marc slipped it back into Diomedes's pocket with
a scowl.

"Gid? Wake up, Gid."

"I
am
awake."

Ondrea smiled at him as he opened his eyes.
"Well you weren't a second ago. The scans are done. We're on Sunrise Station, do you remember? Waiting 'till it's time for you to go to the Moon."

Gideon got up from where he lay on the bed
and unplugged himself from the diagnostic equipment crammed into the station hotel room that was to be Marquand's base of operations for the rest of the project. "I know where we are, Ondrea," he said, giving Beck a long, hard look where he sat at a desk with his back to him.

"Okay
," she said. "I'm just making sure. We won't have to scan you like that too much more." She shut down the diagnostics, having planned them for when D.K. was out getting them food. D.K. had done most of the design on Gideon's new body, but she didn't want him looking over her shoulder. So far, she and Beck had kept her brother's deterioration a secret. Just a little further and they'd be in the clear to dump all the memories that weren't Gideon's own.

"
How soon?" Gideon asked.

Shit, d
id he know? "How soon what, Gid?"

"When do I leave?"

Oh. "Not until eighteen-thirty. D.K. needs to do some final checks on your body, then you'll be put in a cargo container that—"

"Please, Ondrea, I know the plan, I just didn't catch when it started.
I want to get this over."

"Not long, Gid."

Gideon moved to the window. "I've never been in space before. Somehow it's not as foreign as I expected." He stood a while in front of the view. "I think I've dreamed this."

"That's p
robably it." She focused on the scan data with Beck, checking the deterioration rate.

It had accelerated.
Beck was scowling; he saw it, too. Tseng pushing Gideon's treatments in the memory chair must've magnified the problem. "Recheck it," she whispered.

They needed to
figure out how much time Gid had before his mind crashed. They were cutting things close before; now the operation would need to go perfectly in order to get him back in time—if they even had that much time at all.

"I should go now."

"You can't yet, Gid. I know you want this over with but the flight's not leaving for another few hours."
Time, time. . . Please God, give me enough time.

"What do you mean, flight? Isaac's only across town.
Just out to the club. He should be back by now. I should go look for him."

She stopped.
He was remembering the night he'd found their brother's body. There wasn't going to be enough time. "Gid, that's. . . Isaac's— You can't worry about him now. We're on Sunrise Station, remember?"

Gideon was halfway to the door before he stopped in his tracks and turned.
"What just happened? I could swear. . ."

If the data hadn't convinced her already, this would have clinched it
; he was getting lost in his own memories. "Let me check the implant. You can stay awake for this one."

"Again? You said I was well enough to do this!"
He grabbed her shoulders and she flinched before she could stop herself. He let go almost instantly, taking a breath. "What's wrong?"

For a moment
, she considered telling him. But there wasn't anything he could do, and he'd gotten enough shocking news from her recently. "Nothing's wrong, Gid. Just a few final adjustments to make."

He frowned,
and she knew he didn't quite believe her. That he let her plug in without saying a word then nearly broke her heart. He trusted her despite his instincts.

"It'll be okay,
" she said. "I promise." She checked a few details on a PDA where she kept a few private notes, then accessed the implant and raised the cycle power as high as she dared.