This is a boy’s adventure tale.
But this is not a boy’s adventure tale prepared by a stuffy old man in a tweed jacket with elbow patches. This is the sort of story that a boy might imagine for himself, filled with action, mystery, a red-hot space queen, and nary a whiff of precious moral instruction.
Well, maybe there is some moral instruction. But this is Reversed Black Maria. Nothing is as it seems, and the thread is–uh, Oskar, what are you doing with that knife?!
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“Breather!” Oskar wheezed into his microphone. He leaned heavily against the side of the ladder shaft. They’d been on the move for what seemed like hours, always via service hallways and machinery trunks. Climb a deck, move laterally through a dozen compartments, and climb again. And again. Oskar was in good shape, but the Empress’ tachyon pace would test a Robolympic stunrunner.
She hung above him on the ladder, poised to cut open yet another sealed hatch. Every hatch, door, and lift was locked, another gift from their hijacker. “Agreed. One minute, tops,” she replied.
“Thanks. I’m dying, here. Why the hurry?”
“The Galaxia is going somewhere. If I had to guess, probably a rendezvous with one of the Arzenekoi Chaoslords. We’re lucky our hijacker couldn’t make it in a single ghostride. It’s bad enough that he took us out of range of any realtime repeaters. I don’t want to give him another chance.”
“How often can Galaxia ghostride?”
“Our minimum engine sleep time is ninety minutes. We’re already going to cut it too close, which means that our break is over.”
Her knife flashed to life, green plasma strobing across the heavy tanto blade. With a powerful thrust, she drove it into the jamb of the hatch. The million-degree edge sliced through the heavy plastodiamond alloy like a hot knife through butter. Working quickly and carefully, she sawed away the locking studs. A punch sent the freshly released obstacle flying. Oskar felt the crash when it landed. Inna catapulted through the open hatch and vanished. Oskar labored after her, his thighs burning.
He emerged into an immense, opulent cabin. Silks embroidered with golden signs draped the walls and windows. A round bed big enough for the entire university geeball squad sprawled in indigo luxury beneath a skylight brimming with stars. In short, it was a bedroom fit for the Empress of the Galaxy.
Inna stood by the cabin’s huge wooden door. “Welcome to my suite,” she said, worrying the lock. It didn’t budge. “When I bring a man in here, he’s usually not wearing a spacesuit. Or anything else, for that matter. But I’ve got no time for play today.” She aimed a devastating roundhouse kick at the door’s mullion. It split in two. The free half flew into the corridor outside.
Oskar snorted. “I’d say you’re enjoying yourself.”
Inna tossed her glorious head, no easy feat inside a space helmet. Feedback warbled in her reply. “Enjoying myself? I’m pissed off and empty as hell. We’ve almost reached the bridge. Follow me.”
He followed her into the corridor. She turned right, toward a skybridge that spanned the top of the yawning atrium. It was easy to imagine that it might be booby-trapped, but Inna sprinted across without even a cursory inspection. Oskar followed at a nervous trot, keeping well clear of the heavy balustrades. Fortunately, nothing happened.
“Maybe we should be more cautious?” he said when they reached the security of the broad landing on the other side.
“There’s a time for caution. This isn’t it. I checked the status monitor in my cabin. We’ve got less than ten minutes before our hijacker can ghostride again. I’ve got to get inside the bridge before that.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. We’re here, aren’t we?” Oskar pointed to a stout hatch in the bulkhead ahead of them. It was familiar to him. They’d arrived by the bridge earlier in the day.
“I still have defeat the lock.”
“Can’t you just cut it open like the others?”
“No. The bridge is stasis hardened. A nuke couldn’t open that door.” She shot to the hatch and knelt beside it. A slim tube of plastic from a pouch on her thigh unrolled into a small computer. She affixed it to the door, beside the latch. The display flickered to life, filled with text in a script Oskar didn’t recognize.
“What’s that?” asked Oskar.
“A safecracker AI. It’s pre-cataclysm tech, three thousand years old. Illegal on all thirty-five known worlds and subject to confiscation and immediate destruction, even by my own security forces. They tell me that even a mundane safecracking AI is an existential threat to human life.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I’m the Empress, Oskar. I once mentioned that I wished I had one. My retainers fought each other for the honor of procuring it. They were determined. I ended up with all seven known surviving safecrackers, and two undocumented units.”
Based on what he knew of Miriam, Oskar imagined that Inna's retainers were as persuasive as they were determined. For all her terror, he wished the dark Ersatzengel was with them. "Can you call Miriam to help us?" he asked.
“Not without a realtime connection. I’m sure all of my servants are searching for me, but it’s a big galaxy. Now, please give me a few second’s peace.”
Inna’s brow crumpled in concentration. She keyed some fast instructions into the safecracker. Her face fell as she read the response, and she sagged against the bulkhead. “Great. The hijacker rooted the lockset and installed his own firmware. My backdoor is gone. The jokes on him, though. I’ve got enough power to generate a matching key. But it will take time. How much, I can’t yet say. Maybe more than we have.”
“Can’t you just command the door to open?”
She blinked at him. “Huh?”
“You’re a goddess, right? Say ‘open!’ and maybe it will.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “Your faith in me is endearing, but it doesn’t work that way. I’ve got divine authority without immanent power. It sucks.”
“Immanent. What does it mean?”
“It means my divine attributes are hidden, even from me. Unfortunately, I still have them. They manifest in annoying ways, like giving me a craving for sacrifices, or inspiring entire civilizations to launch bloody crusades in my name. But my powers aren’t useful, or controllable.”
“That’s too bad.”
Inna shook her head. “It’s for the best. My lack of self-control is legendary. I would be the worst goddess that you can possibly imagine. Trust me.”
“I’d worship you,” Oskar said foolishly, and instantly regretted it. But Inna merely sighed.
“Yes, you would,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t have any choice in the matter. Nor would anyone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“Another time, Oskar,” she said, with an air of finality that left no room for argument.
A telltale on the safecracker flashed. Inna checked it, and stood up. “The safecracker’s ETA is twenty minutes. That’s no good. We’ve got five, maybe less. Time for plan B.”
“What is plan B?” Oskar asked.
Inna ignored him. She produced an EVA tether from a pouch on her spacesuit’s belt. Wrapping a loop of the broad, flat tape around each hand, she tested its strength. Hard, trained muscles rippled beneath her suit like sea billows, but the tether didn’t stretch a millimeter. “This should hold me,” she muttered.
Inna secured one end of the tether to her chest harness. Then she walked to the terminus of the skybridge and hooked the other end around the heavy balustrade. She came back slowly, playing out the tether as she came. It ran out a few meters short of the door. She could come no closer.
“I couldn’t have planned that better if I tried,” she remarked.
Oskar could stand no more. “Plan what? What are you doing?” he demanded.
By way of an answer, she unsheathed her huge plasma knife and handed it to him, hilt first. “It’s your turn to help. The Spooky engines are unlocked by my unique life force. There’s only one way to prevent a ghostride. Kill me.”
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
