Code Enforcement: Wetware

My heart sinks as I watch the familiar shuttle descending, sweeping in a low arc from the east. Its tail blooms a blazing, brilliant blue-white cone, firing into the angle of descent as it desperately sheds velocity on approach. Clearfield must have taken us directly to the scheduled gate, because I watch a long, dark arm extending towards the grey landing pad sixty meters off from the spiny docking port.

The landing is smooth and the docking arm connects to the Chimera's hold without any nasty surprises. A loud hiss and series of tones indicate a seal on the airlock. I feel my heart hammering in my chest as I agonize on making a move. The docking and decontamination procedures won't take long. A few minutes? Is that enough time to turn this around?

This side of the dock is largely open, perhaps fifty meters of open space and empty queues and recycled ads. With my dampener on, I can't even see the exonet traffic, so I examine meatspace. There are a half-dozen docking arms of various lengths and widths leading to the landing platforms on this side. Most of it is automated, of course, and it's largely empty aside from us; nobody else is landing or departing.

Shit, there's no cover. And nothing to use as an improvised weapon. Nothing but airlocks on one side, and doors to the station on the other three sides. Maybe I could make it to one in a sprint, if I were willing to leave Sparrow at Clearfield's mercy. Hah, like hell.

But a chill runs through me when I hear the chirp of the plasma pistol and feel the muzzle press against my back. The hair rises on my neck, and Clearfield's voice is low and even. "I don't want you shouting warnings or planning hinky moves. If you pull something stupid, I'm not going to stun you. I'll put a bolt through your spine and use your body as a shield. Understood?"

Goosebumps rise along my arms, and I feel a bead of sweat roll down my neck. "Green across the board," I murmur, stepping forward as she presses insistently with the muzzle. So much for a fight. Vacuum-sucking hell, if she fires at point-blank range? Neither of us will have much fun. The splash-back from the plasma and boiling viscera will probably give Clearfield some nasty burns. A nice going-away present, but I'll be too dead for that to help me.

Damn, I wasted my time dithering. As the airlock at the near end of the docking arm hisses open, two things immediately surprise me. First, as Sparrow emerges, I'm shocked to see her hands laced under a wide cylindrical tank. It's transparent, filled with clear water and topped by a magnetic cap trailing meshed faraday wire down the sides. Inside the tank, swimming along the skin and above a scattering of pebbles, is a life-form slightly bigger than my fist.

The 'squid' doesn't really resemble its name. For one thing, the arms are wrong. It has a dozen symmetrical tentacles about twice the length of its body. Said body is a vaguely conical mass with lines of simple eyespots running down its arms. The coloration is strangely reflective, and it takes me a moment to realize it's speckled with faintly luminescent patches. As I watch, the color of its skin seems to roll through several shades of blue and green and purple as it spins its arms. A narrow, sharp beak protrudes from the center, tucked between the undulating limbs. From the tank, I can hear a clicking as it snaps its beak in a quick rhythm. It's oddly cute, if more alien than I expected.

And I didn't actually expect to see it here. Holy void-spawned fuck. Sparrow, you really got Cartwright to hand over the squid? This isn't some common prokaryote-analogue frozen in the Martian icecaps. This is the only sample of confirmed multicellular alien life in existence! Half of the Jovian would massacre the other half to get their hands on that!

The second thing that surprises me is Ashton Cartwright emerging behind her in full uniform, the plasma-rifle slung over his shoulder. Oh boy. I guess the good Captain hitched a ride. Did he want to keep an eye on the Xeno?

Sparrow meets my gaze, but Clearfield speaks first. "Ash?" Her eyes are wide, and one hand drops to the taser at her hip, plasma pistol still pressing against me.

Cartwright's eyes narrow and he steps forward, inclining his head a few degrees. "Jess."

Oh. I don't like that. Suddenly, I'm much less certain of everything. But despite it, my eyes slide back to Sparrow.

"Hi Melody," she says softly. She's smiling, wearing a simple brown jumper that covers most of her smart-ink tattoo.

God, my knees are weak. I've been doing far too much running, even in low gravity. And the air scrubbers in this dock are shit; my eyes are watering. "Hey Sparrow," I say back, voice cracking.

Clearfield growls in her throat. "Enough; put the rifle down slowly, Ash. And tell the girl to drop the tank. Gently," she adds quickly, pulling the taser free and pointing it at Cartwright.

For his part, Ashton raises an eyebrow and makes no move to drop his weapon. "The girl isn't doing any such thing."

Sparrow gives the man a sideway glance. "This woman can speak for herself," she huffs, adjusting her grip on the tank. That's my Sparrow.

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Clearfield takes a deep breath, pointing the taser at his chest. "Ashton, this doesn't have to get ugly. I take the squid, I back away and let Cruz go, and we never meet again," she says, licking her lips, eyes darting to the twirling lifeform.

Ashton looks pained, lips tight as he slides the rifle into the crook of his arm. "I can't do that, Jessie."

She shakes her head quickly. "Don't make this end bloody. It has nothing to do with you."

Cartwright surprises me further, stepping in front of Sparrow and the squid, into Clearfield's line of sight. And remaining in her line of fire. "It has quite a lot to do with me. You helped smuggle terrorists onto Ursa Miner Station. You even slipped one into my precinct. Twice," he adds, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Your recommendation carried a lot of weight with me. A man could take that sort of thing personally," he says softly.

Of all things, he's disappointed about that!? I can't see her face, but Clearfield's tone carries a hint of shame. "I didn't..." she starts, before giving a long sigh. "It's just business, and I don't have time to collate data. The squid, now," she demands, pushing me forward with the pistol.

The rifle slides into Ashton's hand so smoothly I don't see the motion, and the barrel is aimed straight at Clearfield. And me, coincidently. "Jess, this is your only chance. Look at me and listen," he demands, face stony. "Give yourself up, right now, and I'll do everything I can for you. I'll take you into custody personally and we can talk a deal for your testimony against the League. I'll convince Cruz not to press charges-"

"The hell you will!" I snarl, and I feel her push and jam the pistol into my back, in reply. "If anything, she-"

"Melody!" Sparrow snaps, and I look back at her, seeing an eerie calm in her eyes. "Melody, I love you, but... shut up."

"Ash..." Clearfield circles to the left, trying to get the squid between them. "I can't. I'll lose everything. My payday, my career, my rep, my pension. Everything," she whispers softly.

Cartwright's eyelid twitches. "Not your life."

For a moment, I'm not sure what she'll do. But when she laughs bitterly, my blood turns to ice. "Funny thing, Ash. When you don't have anything else left, your life isn't worth much," she says. With that, she shoves the pistol forward and squeezes the trigger.

There's a low tone, then nothing. Clearfield's brown eyes widen, and she curses while I savor my unexpected continuing existence. I celebrate by whirling and driving my fist into her face, roaring as I feel the crunch of bone. Jessie gives a strangled squeal as she flies back, pulling her hand up and letting the weapon fall. I dive for the pistol, catching it as I hit the floor with a grunt, hearing Clearfield cough and yelp as she lands flat on her ass.

There's a tense moment of silence, before a familiar voice booms above us. "I apologize, Captain Clearfield. I decided to trespass in your office and take some precautions; the power pack in your personal weapon is a dud. I just wanted to make sure this fiasco didn't turn lethal," calls the voice from the dock speakers.

My eyes widen, looking around as I climb to my knees. "Alex?"

And sure enough, he's striding through the north door opposite to our arrival. Blonde hair mussed and uniform wrinkled, he still cuts an impressive figure, and he pulls his own plasma pistol off his belt. "Sorry for the late arrival, Mel; I wanted to give the Captain Clearfield a chance to stand down and do the right thing," he says, looking over to the bloodied, glowering captain. "There was a professional request," he adds, shooting a glance to the blank-faced Cartwright.

I feel the tension drain from my shoulders. "So, you knew all this time, and you let me twist in the wind?"

He gives me that classic half-smile and snorts. "Please. Do you think I often leave suspects alone in my quarters with a weapon, lethal or not?"

I roll my eyes, climbing to my aching feet. "Yes, fine, and my message?"

He waves a hand dismissively. "Yes, Ambrose. 'The man on the inside.' A little on the nose, but it was nice to confirm we were reading the same file, so to speak. And I appreciate you loading your sniffers with tags and leaving one for me; our hunter-killer teams swarmed all the tagged virts their synth visited. My backup is raiding them in D-space as we speak, and we've confiscated quite a bit of computational substrate."

I can't help but smile, even feeling a rush of giddy energy. "I was hoping Aquarius would track dirt everywhere he went."

Alex grins back. "Should have wiped his shoes, or his RAM at least. Since he seems to be their only active synth asset, I'd say they put all their eggs in one basket." He shrugs with one arm. "Once we crack the passwords and encryption, we'll have all the info we need. Identification, profiles, activity logs, accounts. The networked mind itself fled, but it left everything behind." The lean man runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "The Gaian League is finished in the Jovian; Wong already cut a plea bargain," Alex adds, glancing at the horrified Clearfield. "Given that you've just attempted murder, I recommend you try to do the same.

Clearfield swallows, pushing her dreadlocks back, eyes darting. "This was a setup. You knew the whole time," she mutters.

Alex tilts his head. "Suspected, until Wong confirmed it. But the 'divide and conquer' ploy, and the bidding war on the squid? That was all Mel. Lighting a fire under the parties and getting them salivating over the same prize?" He gives me a wink. "I told Cartwright to let you cook. And what can I say? Chef's kiss. You've still got it, Mel."

I feel a tingle at the base of my spine at those words, and blush, biting my bottom lip. "Thanks, Alex. For trusting me."

Clearfield climbs to a standing position between the three of us, gripping the taser in one hand and pulling the stun-stick off her belt with the other. Blood trickles from her swelling nose, impotent fury dancing in her eyes. She glances at me, then Cartwright, then Alex, clearly weighing her options.

But the concern fades as she touches her temple, and the ghost of a smile passes over her lips. "This is a touching little reunion, but I'm afraid it's not over. Not everyone is divided, and you're not the only ones with backup on the scene." Clearfield turns and slides to her knees, wrapping her arms around her head and covering her neck.

As she does, the middle door opposite the airlock chimes and opens. I catch a glimpse of armor-clad figures beyond it just as something small and dark sails into the room. The door slides shut, and I watch in alarm as the black piece of metal skitters along the floor towards us.

"Sparrow! Get down!" I scream, snapping my eyes shut too late as light and heat erupt around me.