Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,22

bio-male. Shay Chan, on the other hand, had been a petite young woman in her last incarnation, though I knew it hadn’t been her original, birth-issued coil. We hadn’t been close enough to discuss about who felt comfortable in what body—but something about the set of Chan’s shoulders told me that whatever she might be at the moment, comfortable was out the airlock.

“It’s me, Chan. Fuck. Are you okay?” It was a stupid question. She… Chan… was clearly not okay.

“No,” she said, and tears formed at the corners of those piercing blue eyes. Eyes that, to my mind, should still have been mysterious dark pools. “No.” A rough laugh escaped Chan’s lips, followed immediately by a grimace. “I can’t get used to that sound. Or the sound of my own voice. Or anything else.” She—and since I had known her as a “she” in her previous incarnation, she would continue to be so unless she told me otherwise—shook her head. “And you. You don’t look like you, either. It’s…” She sighed. “Look, it’s not important right now. We need to talk. Not over the Net. Can we meet somewhere?”

“My place?” I asked.

She shook her head again. “Not sure that will be safe. Somewhere public.”

Was she worried about me, or about assassins lurking in corners waiting to get us alone? Better not to ask, at least not over the Net. “Where then? I just got in. Need to stop by my place and pick up a few things. But that will only take a few minutes. Give me a time and a place.”

“The Black Diamond,” she said after a moment. “Half an hour?”

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

I reached my berth aboard Daedalus. The locks responded to my Net codes—the software didn’t care if the coil giving them was completely different, only if the security algorithms matched up. The room beyond the door stretched a spacious three meters square. Apart from a console, bed, footlocker, and combination refrigerator and microwave, the room was empty. Which was as it should be. I’d never had much in the way of personal belongings. There was little enough room on station, and even less shipboard. I’d pared my life down to just a few necessities and some comfort items, and I’d brought those aboard the Persephone. I maintained the apartment on Daedalus to have somewhere to go between jobs and because having a permanent address decreased your insurance premiums. Beyond that, it was little more than storage for the few spare belongings I’d managed to gather.

I went to the footlocker first, once again passing the proper codes across the Net to open the lock. The locker held my spare gear—another vacc suit (though the VaccTech I was wearing was nicer, so I left that where it lay), a tool harness with a good assortment of cutters, grips, tape, and cords, and a holstered Gauss pistol. In the very bottom of the locker was a simple faux-wooden box, which held another pistol, this one a microwave-emitting laser.

I grabbed the harness and put it on, moving the few possessions I’d purchased on Prospect from the VaccTech’s loops to the harness’ more secure pouches and pockets. Then I grabbed the microwave emitter and swapped it for the gun in the holster. The Gauss gun would draw a few eyes aboard station—the chances for a hull breach were slim but not impossible. Still, I wasn’t about to leave it behind, either. Not with someone out there wanting me dead. It went into one of the pouches on the harness as well. It wasn’t exactly illegal to carry—just discouraged—so HabSec probably wouldn’t hassle me if it showed up on someone’s scanner.

I went over to the console, and rummaged around in the drawers, pocketing a few gold and platinum nuggets that were the melted remains of salvaged circuitry. Electronic credits may have been king, but it never hurt to have something that could serve as hard currency or barter.

I paused a moment, as I realized what I was doing. I was looting my apartment, taking everything of value, everything that could be of use to me. I was getting ready to run. But run where? And why? Because of the assassin on Prospect? Or the look of fear in Chan’s eyes? Or the fact that she didn’t think my apartment would be safe? I looked around the small room. Apart from the tools from the footlocker, there was nothing here that was truly me. It was just a place I slept when