“Exactly.”
Spassky looked at Prodi again. “Stick and I were talking about that, sir. We think it would be best if our Mister Kalkuz came along for the ride. That way-”
“Hold on a sec.” Michael turned to Shinoda. “We can do that?” he said. “Kidnap the man and smuggle him aboard the ship?”
“It’s an added complication we don’t need,” Shinoda said, “but I agree with the guys. We won’t be here to cut his balls off if he fucks with us, so that means he’s got to come along for the ride.”
“Fine. So be it.” Michael looked at the two marines. “Set up another meeting for tomorrow with Kalkuz,” he said. “Tell him he’s got a deal but we want him at the spaceport an hour before we leave. He’ll get his money when he gives you the codes. Okay?”
“Sir,” Spassky and Prodi said as one.
“So now we’re smuggling two bodies off-planet.” Michael looked at the three marines around the table. “Akuna’s not going to be a problem, but Kalkuz is.”
“I was just thinking the same thing, sir,” Shinoda said. “I don’t see how we can kidnap Kalkuz and box him up, not at New Dublin spaceport. It’ll be as busy as all hell. There’ll be people and security everywhere.”
Prodi broke the long silence that followed. “Private shuttle?” she asked.
“That’d work,” Shinoda said after a moment’s thought. She looked at Michael. “Can we afford one?”
“I can’t think of any other way of taking Kalkuz with us,” Michael said, “so we’ll just have to. I’ll talk to Max Pinczewski, see what it will cost us.” He took a deep breath. “Right, guys,” he said to Spassky and Prodi. “Thanks for all that. Good work.”
“Okay then, marines,” Shinoda said. “What you waiting for? A medal? Akuna and Mitchell need relieving, so get your asses out there.”
“Sarge,” the two chorused.
“It’s coming together,’ Michael said to Shinoda when the pair had gone, “but we still have a serious problem on our hands.”
“How to get down to Commitment without getting our butts shot off?”
“Yeah.”
“We know the solution to that problem, sir,” Shinoda said, breaking the silence that followed.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Michael said, “but even if we had Fed gear and the time to train, it would still be way too risky. I can’t order anyone to do it.”
“Look at it this way. Not to be too melodramatic, but Admiral Moussawi has to take his ships right into the jaws of hell. Meanwhile, if we trash
“I hate it when people say ‘with all due respect.’”
“So glad you worked out what I really meant, sir,” Shinoda said, her voice laced with sarcasm and anger.
“Take it easy, Sergeant Shinoda,” Michael said quietly. “I know all about ordering people to risk their lives, and it’s not something I’ve ever done lightly.”
“That’s as may be, sir, but we have a decision to make and not much time to make it. So decide, sir. Do we scrub the mission, or do we do what we have to do?”
“You’ve talked to your guys about this?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And?”
“They know the risks, and they know the importance of the mission. They’ll obey orders, sir, just like I will.”
“Like it’s that easy,” Michael muttered. He sat back. “How do we minimize the risks?” he asked. “No point doing this if we all end up splattered across Commitment.”
“The local club has a sim package we can upload into our neuronics. If we spend every hour we can practicing drops, at least we won’t all die.”
Michael looked into Shinoda’s eyes. “Some will, though,” he said. “Our special forces guys spend months training before they do their first live drop, and they still lose one or two guys a year.”
“It can’t be helped, sir. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the business we’re in.”
Michael nodded. Shinoda was right. The question wasn’t whether they could afford to take the risk. It was whether they could afford not to, the same question already asked of-and answered by-Admiral Moussawi. “Right, then,” he said, wondering who among them would not make it. “Unless there are any better suggestions, we’ll do it.”
“That’s a good call, sir.”
“Don’t patronize me, sergeant,” Michael snapped, “and don’t confuse debate with indecision. We might be pressed for time, but I won’t order you and your marines to do something this dangerous without talking it through first.”
Shinoda put her hands up in apology. “I was out of line, sir,” she said. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Forget it. Now, moving on. What’s left to do?”
“Let me see. Mitchell and Prodi need to make sure the next safe house is clear. Spassky and Akuna have to meet our man Kalkuz, so that leaves us to go talk to the drop club lunatics.”
“Don’t knock it,” Michael said. “Who knows? It might be fun.”
“I doubt that,” Shinoda said, grim-faced.
The cargobot rolled to a stop just short of the tousled-haired man. “Hi, guys,” he said as Michael and Shinoda stepped out. “I’m Marco Chang.”
“Hi, Marco,” Shinoda said.
“So,” Chang said, “you said you wanted some drop shells?”
“Yeah, we do,” Michael replied. “Ours are back on Commitment, and since we’re stuck here until the shipping lines reopen-and Kraa knows how long it’ll be before that happens-we thought we’d do some drops. Not much else we fancy doing.”
“First time I’ve heard a Hammer say that about this place,” Chang said. They set off toward a large shed. A sign over its door declared it to be the headquarters of the New Dublin Drop Club. “Scobie’s only claim to fame is that we have everything anyone could ever want … for a price.”
Chang pushed his hand into a reader to open the door. Michael and Shinoda followed him inside. The room looked like a million other club rooms across humanspace: a small bar, a collection of old chairs and tables, and wall-mounted holovids paging through pix of members doing what members did. Michael frowned when he spotted an old-fashioned wooden board sporting a list of names and dates in gold paint with the words “In Memoriam” across the top. It was a depressingly long list that did nothing to improve Michael’s spirits.
If the ghosts of dead members bothered Chang, he did not let it show. “Here we are,” the man said. He opened a door off to one side to reveal floor-to-ceiling racks packed with large plasfiber boxes. “You want drop shells, we’ve got drop shells.”
“Aha!” Michael said with forced enthusiasm, peering at the nearest box. “You didn’t say you were using G- Series systems … very nice,” he added. He wondered how much more bullshit he’d have to come up with, even as he whispered a quiet prayer of thanks for the net’s ability to turn people like him into instant experts.
“Oh, yes,” Chang said, “we have been for a while now. The F-Series was okay, but nothing beats the G.”
