Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,78

designed armor was, it was always a tradeoff between mobility and protection. If I was going to have to swim over to a vessel moving in three dimensions, I didn’t want to give up any mobility. An armored suit wouldn’t do much good if thousands of tons of starship smashed into me.

Shay’s suit hadn’t passed the same scrutiny, and she’d been kitted out in one of the military-grade suits of the security team now staring at us. I had to admit, it suited her coil well, adding an avenging Viking-like air to the rugged features. She hadn’t wanted to carry a weapon, but both the armorer and I had convinced her that walking into an unknown situation like this without something to defend yourself was, to say the very least, a questionable decision. In the end, she’d settled for a Gauss pistol as well, a newer version than the one I carried with a heavier charge and larger magazine. I was offered the same, to replace my venerable piece, but in a pinch, better the firearm you knew.

We’d both been offered a variety of secondary items, ranging from explosives to enough tools to open a mechanic’s shop. I’d availed myself of the corporate “generosity,” putting together a salvage kit that, if I was being completely honest, far outstripped the one I’d had aboard the Persephone. The components were largely the same, but Genetechnic could afford the very best in terms of quality. That was certainly a new development for me. With some trepidation, Shay had taken a tablet and a small toolkit that housed a number of tools for which I had no names. Given her specialty, I assumed they had to do with electronics, but my knowledge in that department started and ended with knowing how to safely remove the more valuable circuit boards from a derelict vessel.

Korben, to my surprise, did not merely escort us to the shuttle, but boarded with us. “This way,” he said, offering his charming smile. The security team that was eying us so carefully kept their gazes sliding right past the killer, never allowing them to linger too long. Korben paid them no mind whatsoever. He led us to a bank of seats and gestured for us to precede him down the row. I nodded to Shay, who made her way to the acceleration couch by the wall. She moved awkwardly, not from the weight of her gear—which her current coil could easily handle—but more as if she expected the gear to weigh her down and was having trouble adjusting to the fact that it didn’t. It had been months since the Persephone, and she still hadn’t come to terms with her new body. I was beginning to suspect that she never would. If by some miracle Genetechnic didn’t screw us over, I hoped they were as good as their word.

I slid my bulk into the middle seat, settling into the couch. I felt the liquid core of it shift, adjusting itself to my body, cradling me against the gravities to come. “How long?” I asked Korben as he dropped into the seat next to mine.

“Variable,” was the laconic response.

“Useless,” I replied.

He arched an eyebrow at me, and I was reminded of those shifting glances from the security forces. Whatever Korben was, he was clearly the type of person who most people didn’t screw with. There was something in his eyes at my response though. Was it amusement? Or anger? Maybe both.

His answer, whatever he was feeling, was calm. “Bliss is in control of an interplanetary vessel, Mr. Langston. If everything remains constant, our flight time should be just under twenty-eight hours. If the target ship increases or decreases speed, changes heading, or any number of other things, that could change. So, variable.”

“Marginally less useless,” was my reply and he actually chuckled.

I looked over at Shay but she was already gone. Her coil was there but I could tell from the slack expression on its face that she had dropped into the ShipNet. She probably wouldn’t even notice the passing hours. I could drop in as well, find a game or some other form of mindless entertainment to amuse me. The soldiers around me were already following Shay’s lead, some dropping into the Net, others drifting off to sleep in the timeless ability of the professional soldier to nap at any point he or she wasn’t specifically being ordered not to. Korben was still sitting in his chair, staring dispassionately forward, eyes sharp