Severance (50 page)

Kinsella let half of his hair drop over his face and held up
a hand in a gesture of resignation. “That’s politics for you. Always ups and
downs.”

“Uh–huh. Like messing up a reverse–coup? How are you not in
prison right now, anyways?”

The mayor swept the hair back out of his face. “Oh, I really
should be. I think it was part of the deal. I guess I’m reneging on that bit.”

“That sounds about right,” she said. Beside her, Bruce made
noises that indicated he was having trouble figuring out who she was talking
to. Griese, still mute, tensed beside her. He may have guessed the same thing as
Stein. “You’re going to do it again, aren’t you,” she stated.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“How many people did you get killed the last time?”

“I didn’t count. And I also didn’t kill them, don’t forget.
That was the other guy.” He turned around to face the window, hands clenched
behind his back. “It was a good idea, really. I just didn’t go far enough. Not
like what you did.”

“What did I do?”

“It took me awhile to figure out. It was brash wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“The brash. You goosed up those rioters with brash.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s talking about the time when I rescued you,” Bruce
said. He hiccoughed, which seemed to startle to him.

“When I rescued you, you mean.”

“That, too. There was a riot going on at the time. That I
made.” Another hiccough.

A lot of that escape was a blur to Stein, her time spent
lying around in the hospital afterwards having eclipsed the finer points of her
flight. “And you drugged them up. Of course you did.”

Kinsella nodded. “I can’t believe I never considered it
myself. Clean living, I guess.” He smiled. “Maybe I just assumed people would
love their mayor enough to go get shot up for me.”

“You weren’t completely wrong,” Stein pointed out. “That was
a pretty big mob you formed at one point. Though I guess that’s over now, wig–boy.”
Kinsella’s smile spread wider, and he waggled his head back and forth, looking
coy. “No,” Stein said. “There’s no way you’ve got volunteers willing to help
you anymore. Brash or not, there’s no way anyone’s going to take a pill from
you.”

“The way to their hearts…,” he said, smiling broadly,
waiting for her to finish the sentence. She stared back at him, her face blank,
not wanting to give him the satisfaction. His face sank. “It’s through their
stomachs. You haven’t heard that before?”

Bruce patted his belly earnestly. On her other side, Griese
let out a disgusted sound. “You’re going to taint their food?” she asked. Not needing
him to confirm any more than his twinkling eyes already did, she turned away,
looking back out the window. “You know how pointless that is? Because security’s
going to
blow away
anyone that comes near them, brashed up or not.”

“Ehh,” Kinsella said. “I’ll get a few close. There will be a
lot of them. And they only have to get close.” Kinsella fished inside a fold of
his dress and pulled out a small, flattish lump, which he tossed to Stein.

“What’s this?” Stein said, recognizing it a second later. “Explosives?”

“Keep it. I’ve got like four hundred of them.”

“You’re going to send suicide bombers at Helot? That’s
insane.”

“It sounds all right to me,” Griese said. The conversation
slid to a stop, everyone turning to stare at him.

“What’s his problem?” Kinsella finally asked.

“What?” Stein said. “He’s agreeing with your plan.”

“Yeah. But my plan is obviously messed up. Why’s he so keen
on it?”

“His wife’s dead.”

“Oh.” Kinsella bit his lip, looking abashed. “Man, what do
you say to that?”

Stein just stared at the cretin. “Anything but that,” she
finally said. Griese looked down at the ground, removing himself from the
conversation again.

“And they’re not suicide bombers. I’m going to tell them to
throw the things,” Kinsella explained. “I’m not crazy.”

“You’re touting your plan to give four hundred explosive
charges to people you’ve drugged as proof of your sanity?” Stein’s eyes
widened. “
Of course you are.
Why wouldn’t you? What the fuck does anyone
on this ship know about sanity?”

Kinsella pursed his lips, waiting for her to calm down. “Would
you like to know why…”

“
Why you’ve come to tell me all this?
Yes. Obviously.
Fuck. Of course I want to know.”

“I could use your help.”

“
Fuck no.
”

“You haven’t heard me…”

“
Fuck no.
”

“…out.” Kinsella rubbed his face. “You understand what’s at
stake here better than anyone. You said it yourself: if we don’t stop Helot, we
all freeze to death.”

Stein glared at him. “And how many people freeze to death if
we do stop him?” He blinked, seemed ready to protest, then stopped, looking at
Stein appraisingly. “The same number?” she said. “Just a different selection?”

“Very observant, Ms. Stein.”

She slumped forward onto her elbows. “You don’t want to stop
Helot. You want to replace him.”

Kinsella took a deep breath and turned away, looking out the
window. She got the impression he didn’t even like admitting it to himself. “Helot’s
right, you know,” he said. “We can’t stop the whole ship. Not enough fuel,
apparently. Not everyone gets to go.” He looked at Stein and shrugged. “So, on
the one hand, good for him! Taking the initiative like this, making the tough
choices. But why does he get to pick? Why not me? So yeah, I’m going to do the
same myself. Put my people in the core. Be stupid not to. And if you help…”

“I become ‘your people.’”

“That’s right.” He gestured at the window, waving his arm. “Whichever
one of those is Tau Prius. You help me, and then you, Mopey, and Surly here get
to go.”

“We’re grateful,” Stein said. Surprisingly, it sounded more
sincere than she intended. “How about your army? Do they get to go?”

Kinsella’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t pretend you’re that stupid.”
Perhaps sensing he was about to be struck — correctly — he frowned and changed
the subject. “You’d have to do even less this time,” he said. “Just show my
people the easiest way into the core. They’ll do all the work.”

“There is no way. The way we used was exposed to space, may
still be in space, and if not, is crawling with security officers. Who, if they
catch us,
will throw us in space.
”

“Well, find another way. You know the ship better than
anyone. Get my people to the core with a minimum of bomb–throwing.”

“To do what exactly?” She knew exactly what was going to
happen, but wanted to hear him say it, or see just how good he was at lying to
himself.

Kinsella stared her down. “To kill Helot. And anyone
standing near Helot. What did you think this was about?” His expression
softened a bit. “We can do it with or without you. But I think we’ve got a
better chance with you. And, seeing as you’re so fucking concerned about these
morons, consider this: a small, targeted attack will be a lot less costly than
a pitched battle. You don’t want those maniacs’ lives on your conscience,
surely.”

“Like you do?”

Kinsella tilted his head to the side. “Don’t worry about me.
My conscience is incredibly robust.”

She shivered and turned away. “And if I say no? Will one of
your maniacs run up, hug me, and explode?”

Kinsella blinked. “I hadn’t even thought of threatening you.
Hell, I thought you’d want to help out just to save your own shitty fucking lives.
But shit, if that works,
yeah.
” He held up his hands. “Boomhugs all
around if you say no.”

He let that hang in the air for a moment. “You say you’re
going to kill Helot?” Griese said, latching on to his new favorite
conversational topic.

“Absolutely, I will,” Kinsella said.

“When do you need us ready?” Griese said, speaking two
consecutive sentences for the first time in days.

Kinsella looked at Griese appraisingly. “Tomorrow. Let’s say
high noon, like a cowboy fight.” He glanced back and forth between Stein and
Griese, not needing Griese’s help at all and not completely convinced he had
the pull to commit Stein to anything.

And Stein definitely wasn’t going to commit to anything. But
she also had no problem lying, if only to buy some time. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll
help.”

“Great!” Kinsella said. He stepped back and reset his wig
over his face. His bodyguards moved closer, bracketing him. “I’ve got a lot of
things to get organized, so I’ll leave you to it.” Another oily smile, one last
adjustment of the wig. “We’ll be in touch.” Then he turned and left.

“Who was that?” Bruce asked, head turned to watch him leave,
body pitching dangerously forward. “Was that…was that Stein?”

“Right here, Bruce,” Stein said.

“Oh.” Bruce said, looking at her in surprise. “I knew it was
you the whole time.”

“Kay.” She turned to her other friend. “Kinsella had a point
there, Griese. What
is
your problem? You’re not committing suicide on us,
buddy.”

“I know,” Griese replied, convincing no one. “I don’t want
to die. I just want to kill a guy is all.”

She wrapped her arms around him, forehead pressed to his
cheek. “I know, buddy. Me, too. But not if a bunch of drugged–up patsies also have
to die in the process.”

Still hugging Griese, she turned to look out the window, watching
the loathsome stars, tracing their paths as they rotated past the window,
oblivious to her and her perfectly rational hatred of them. She frowned, just
noticing something. The sun was missing. Whatever axis the ship was rotating
around now, it wasn’t aligned with their sun. The escape of air out the aft
must have knocked the ship off axis; it was probably flipping around end to
end, just slow enough for there to be no detectable difference in the gravity.
Only someone looking for the pole star would notice, when they saw it wasn’t
there anymore.

“I just don’t see a way out,” she said.

A belch from Stein’s right. She turned to berate her friend
for ruining her moment of despair, but before she could, Bruce said, “We could
try the plan again. Sneak in to the reactor. Cripple it. Blackmail a guy.” He made
a complicated gesture which was evidently supposed to communicate the idea of
blackmailing. “Etcetera…” Stein looked at him suspiciously, wondering how much
of his drunkenness was feigned. “Kinsella won’t need to send any maniacs to die
then,” he pointed out.

Griese shifted away from Stein. “That plan doesn’t sound
like it lets us kill a guy.” Stein watched him fidget with the can in his lap. It
was good to see Griese so lively again, even if the only thing he had expressed
any interest in was murder–suicide.

Bruce put a finger to his mouth, lips pursed. “We could get
Helot to stand on the reactor first, then blow it up.”

Stein enjoyed visualizing that for a moment. “Okay. But the impossible
bit still remains impossible. They know about every way we’ve found to sneak
back there. And they’re apparently shooting to kill now. We can’t get anywhere
close to the reactor.”

Bruce burped again, then looked extremely satisfied with
himself. “What’s the stupidest idea I ever had?” he asked. Stein stared back at
him, not sure if it was a rhetorical question. “Come on. What’s the stupidest
idea I ever had?” he repeated.

“Honestly, buddy, I’ve known you for a long time. You’ve had
a few, but I haven’t been keeping track of all of them.”

Bruce shook his head. “You know. You just don’t know you
know. It was the really stupid one. The stupidest of them all.”

Stein took a deep breath. “Bruce, I want you to listen to me
very carefully.
Fuck. You. You. Fucking. Drunken. Sphinx. Motherfucker.
”

Bruce snorted. “Why don’t we go outside the ship?”

Stein just stared at him, shaking her head softly. Then something
clicked. “Oh, lord,” she said, remembering. “That was a stupid idea.” She
turned to stare out the window again.

“What are you guys talking about?” Griese asked.

Stein looked at Bruce. “Do you want to explain?” she asked.
Bruce burped and waved his hand, offering her the floor. “Okay,” she said,
collecting her thoughts. “Bruce’s idea is beyond stupid. It is the most
powerfully insane thing that has ever been thought. The air curdles when it is
spoken.”

“Get on with it,” Bruce said. He burped again.

“Fine.” She took a deep breath. “It involves going out the
bow airlock, circumnavigating the outer hull of the ship, and re–entering the
airlock in the aft.”

Griese nodded. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“
Everything is wrong with that.
One, I’ve seen some spacesuits
up there, but there’s no chance there will be any extra vehicular equipment.
The naval guys kept all that stuff in the aft. So, we can get outside, but we
can’t do anything out there except float around and die.”

“Stupider,” Bruce said. “Go stupider.”

Stein elbowed him. “Bruce is of course referring to the
second draft of his idea. Which involved clinging to the outer surface of the
ship like monkeys, and climbing around to the other side. I think he was
originally suggesting using climbing gear, but he may now just be considering
holding on really tight.” She studied Griese’s face, looking for some sign that
he concurred with how stupid the plan was. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Yeah, it is!” Bruce yelled triumphantly.

Griese licked his lips. “Why won’t it work?”

Stein stared at him. “Because the ship is spinning. It would
be the equivalent of climbing hand over hand for three kilometers. The
deadliest set of monkey bars ever conceived. One slip, and you fall away.” With
her fingers, she walked across the back of her hand, then pantomimed her
fingers flying off into space.

Griese nodded, digesting that. “It sounds doable.”