This Shattered World

For a moment I’m utterly distracted by her closeness, despite the soot and the smell of burned chemicals. Then she’s angling the chip so I can see what she saw, and all thoughts of her face next to mine vanish.

There’s a letter hidden in the circuitry, visible only when the light hits the reflective surfaces the right way. It’s a V, and we both stare at it, trying to figure out what it means.

“VeriCorp?” I whisper. But the logo for VeriCorp is both a V and a C, and they’re not a big enough corporation to have their own ident chip manufacturers.

Jubilee’s breath catches, and she reaches out to take the chip from me. Before I can protest, she’s twisting it in her fingers—turning it upside down. Abruptly, it stops being a V. There’s not a soul in the galaxy who doesn’t know that symbol. A lambda.

“LaRoux Industries.”

I want to ask her what it means and whether the military knows something we don’t about why LaRoux Industries, which has no terraforming stake here on Avon, would have constructed a secret base out in the middle of the swamps. But I can tell from her expression she’s as confused as I am.

Before I can speak, the com-patch on the sleeve of her combat suit buzzes to life. “Security to Captain Chase,” it hisses, Avon’s interference rendering the voice unidentifiable.

Jubilee looks at me for a split second and then turns away, but not before I see the alarm in her gaze. She lifts a hand to the patch, activating it from her end. “Chase here,” she replies, ducking her head a little to bring her voice closer to the receiver.

“Can you report to the security office, sir?” It’s not an order, but a request; I can see her shoulders relax a little.

“I’m a little busy,” she replies, tweaking the blinds over the window with two fingers so she can peer out at the base outside. “Is it more info on the bomber?”

“No rush, but we could use your eyes, since you were there. We’ve got the guy who abducted you from Molly’s.”

The words wash over me like fire, and I start coughing, my abused lungs refusing to cooperate. Jubilee whirls, her gaze landing on mine as though she half expects me to have vanished into military custody. She waits until I’ve got my cough under control before thumbing the com-patch again.

“Say again?” she says, her voice as cool as stone. “Some interference on my end.”

“The kidnapper from the bar,” comes the voice. “It took a lot of combing through security footage, but we’ve got some now that’ll help us identify him.”

Jubilee’s confusion is draining away into dread. “And? Who is he?”

“Well, the footage is pretty grainy, there’s a lot of static interference. We’re trying to clean it up now.”

“You stay on the bombing,” Jubilee snaps. She swallows, and when she speaks again, her voice is calmer. “Whoever the guy in Molly’s was, he’s long gone by now. We need to know more about the attack on the base, and whether Davin Quinn was acting alone.”

“Well, sir,” the voice on the com-patch replies slowly, “I’ve got most of my people on the bombing, but for base security we’ll need to know this guy’s face so we can identify him if he tries again.”

Jubilee’s gaze sweeps across the room’s other few occupants, unconscious, unresponsive. “Okay,” she replies. “I’ll come by later and see if I can help.” She lets her arm fall back down to her side, eyes returning to meet mine as the com-patch goes silent.

All I can do is stare at her, the bottom falling out of my stomach. The only sounds are the gentle beeping of the monitors and the muffled sounds of the base outside—vehicle engines, snatches of conversation, the whine of a shuttle landing in a launch bay on the other side of the base. It’s impossible to forget where I am: in the middle of enemy territory.

With an effort, I wrench myself out of my exhausted stupor and shove the blankets aside. Then I’m trying to sit up, pushing through the dizziness and the nausea. I’ve got to run.

“Hey—stop that!” Jubilee reaches out, grasping my shoulders and pushing me back down. Right now, she’s a lot stronger than I am, and I’ve got no choice but to let her. “If they were on their way here to grab you, do you think I’d be sitting here looking at you? I’d be dragging your ass out the back door by now.”

I can’t answer, my throat catching and drawing up a racking cough.

Jubilee waits it out with her hands still on my shoulders, bracing me. When I’m finished, she pulls them back slowly. “We’ve got a little time. Your lungs won’t take a long trek through the swamp.”

I swallow, making sure my throat’s clear before I try speaking this time. “How long do I have?”

“I don’t know.” Jubilee paces a few steps to the foot of the bed. “Yesterday it would’ve been top priority, but now they’re a little distracted. You can thank your man Quinn for that. I need to think.” She closes her eyes, lips pressed tightly together.

“They’re going to figure out that you haven’t told them everything.”

Jubilee’s jaw tightens, and she makes a slicing motion with her hand. “For now they believe Commander Towers that it was trauma, and that’s why I couldn’t remember your face despite talking to you for a good ten minutes before you dragged me out of there.”

“Tell them you got hit in the head—tell them it’s amnesia or something. Be careful. If I lose you—”