Bobbie opened the door to the public corridor.
Katria wore the uniform of the Medina maintenance crew. Green with a station logo printed on the shoulders and back. A ceramic toolbox rested on the deck by her left foot. Gray where it wasn’t scratched white by long use. Naomi guessed there was enough explosive in it to kill all of them so fast they wouldn’t know they were dead until the funeral. Katria’s nonchalance with it was like a boast. Voltaire Collective had always been like that, even back in ancient days when Earth and Mars had ruled the solar system and no one had ever heard of Protogen. Every revolution needed its mad bombers, apparently.
“Tag,” Katria said to Naomi. Then to Bobbie, “You ready to play a game?”
Bobbie put her hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Take care of the kids until I get back.”
“I will,” Naomi said. “Good hunting.”
“Thanks,” Bobbie said. Katria stood aside and let the big woman pass. The emptiness on Bobbie’s face could have read as indifference to someone who didn’t know her. To someone who didn’t understand the kinship that Bobbie felt to Mars and its military, and to those who had served once and then been forced by conscience or circumstance to walk away.
“Bobbie,” Naomi said. “I’m sorry.”
Bobbie nodded. That was all. An acknowledgment that they both understood the situation, and would do what needed to be done. Katria plucked the toolbox up, and the two of them walked away down the corridor. Naomi closed the door behind them.
Back in her bunk and sleepless, she wondered what Jim would have done. Something idealistic and impulsive that would lead to more complications, probably. Certainly. And he would have done it in a way that kept that expression off Bobbie’s face if he could. Even if it meant doing something terrible to himself. Like languishing in a Laconian brig. An image came to her mind of Jim being tortured, and she pushed it away. Again. Feeling fear and sorrow would come later, when they were done. When he was back. There’d be time for it then. She didn’t manage actual sleep, but she was able to drift a little before the shift change. It was enough to let her feel rested, but not deeply.
She met Saba at the same public counter where they’d used the freezer, but this time they sat at the front like customers. The girl behind the counter turned up the music playing from her system speakers loud enough that they could barely hear each other, their words drowned in drums and strings and ululating voices. Saba looked as tired as she felt.
“Something happening back in Sol system,” he said. “Looks like the big fight. Not sure how it’s going to play.”
Half a dozen possibilities flashed through her sleep-starved mind ranging from the miraculously good to the catastrophically bad. It didn’t matter. Nothing that happened there changed what they were doing here. But Saba’s wife was there, back in the empty spaces where they’d all lived, once upon a time. She knew too well what that fear felt like.
“You have the list?” she asked.
Saba nodded and pressed a silver memory chip into her hand. “All the ships we could make contact with,” he said.
“How many?”
“Twenty-one.”
Naomi nodded. Twenty-one ships docked on Medina and waiting for their chance to load up and fly. It was more than she’d hoped for. It was also enough to pose some problems. “I don’t like having this many people knowing what’s going on.”
“It’s a risk,” Saba said, as if he were agreeing with something she’d said. “How does it make us for time?”
“If you don’t mind half of them vanishing in transit, we can go pretty fast,” Naomi said, more sharply than she’d intended. She shook her head, apologizing, but Saba ignored both the snappishness and the regret for it.
“Say we don’t. Everyone through the gates safe and sound. What does that look like?”
“I can’t know that until I look at the ship profiles. Mass, drive type, cargo. All of that’s going to make a difference.”
“Ballpark.”
“A hundred minutes. That’s conservative. I can probably find a way to make it less.”
The girl at the counter swung past, pouring fresh tea into their glasses. Tiny bits of mint leaf swirled in the reddish amber. Naomi took a sip while Saba scowled. “That’s a long time for the station’s eyes to stay blind. And a lot to lose if they find a way to put it back together.”
“Truth,” Naomi said.
Saba scratched his chin with the back of his hand. If they ever played poker together, it was a gesture she’d remember. His tell.
“Your technician. The one to break the system?”
“Clarissa.”
“Her, yeah. If she doesn’t do the thing and do it well, everyone on those ships is going to die from trusting me. Not disrespect, but it’s mine to say. Not sure she’s good for it.”
“Clarissa knows what she’s doing,” Naomi said. “She’s smart, she’s studied, and she knows this station. She broke it once already.”