Nemesis Games

They spun to the north side of the island where a wide bridge on a coated steel pier ran out toward the launching pad. Hangars and boathouses encrusted the shore, boxes for the toys of the wealthy as big as basic housing blocks for a thousand people. The pontoon boat they were in surged forward over the chop of the water. The boathouse they chose was painted bright blue, but outside the circles of their lights, it could have been anything. It only took a minute to find the keypad on a pole that poked up from the dark water. Peaches leaned over, stretched her thin arm, and tapped out a series of numbers. For a second, it looked like it hadn’t worked, then the boathouse doors silently rose and automatic lights came on. The interior was all wood paneling, rich red cedar, and enough room for a tennis court. An angry barking came out from the darkness as they steered inside.

A wolfhound stood on the deck of a little powerboat, its paws on the rail. The pontoon boats snugged up in the space next to the powerboat. Amos hauled himself up and the wolfhound darted toward him, growling and snarling. It was a beautiful animal, genetically engineered, he figured, for the gloss of its fur and the graceful lines of its face.

“Hey there,” Amos said, squatting down to its level. “Someone didn’t bother taking you along when they left, huh? That shit’s gotta suck.”

The dog shied back, uncertain and frightened.

“How about this,” Amos said. “Don’t start anything with us, we won’t shoot you.”

“It doesn’t talk,” Erich said as the dog retreated, barking over its shoulder.

“How do you know? Assholes with this much money, maybe they put some kind of translator into its brain.”

“They can’t do that,” Erich said, then turned to Peaches. “They can’t, can they?”

“This is the Cook estate,” Peaches said. “Darwa and Khooni lived here. I used to sleep over on Wednesday nights in the summer.” She shuddered a little and Amos cocked his head. “It’s a long time since I’ve been here. It seems like it should have changed more.”

“You know how to get to their hangar?” Erich asked.

“I do.”

But when they got there, the space was empty. When they crossed the broad gravel yard to the next hangar over – the Davidovics’ – it was empty too. The third one didn’t have a ship, but it did have a dozen people. They stood in the center of the space with handguns and the kind of cheap suppression sprays they sold over the counter at grocery stores. The man in front was maybe fifty with graying hair and the beginnings of a new beard.

“You, all of you, stay back!” the man yelled as Amos and Butch and three more came in through the side door. “This is private property!”

“Oh, it belongs to you?” Butch sneered. “This all your place?”

“We work for the Quartermans. We have a right to be here.” The man waggled his handgun. “You, all of you, get out!”

Amos shrugged. Another half dozen of Erich’s people had come in, most of them with assault rifles held calmly at their sides. The servants were all huddled together in the middle of the room. If they’d had any skill or practice, there would have been two or three snipers up in the rafters, ready to start picking the bad guys off while these folks kept their attention low, but Amos didn’t see anyone. “I kinda don’t think the Quartermans are coming back. We’re going to take some of their stuff. But anything we can’t use, you should feel welcome to.”

The man’s face hardened, and Amos got ready for there to be a lot of dead people. But before Erich’s people lifted their guns, Peaches interrupted.

“You’re… you’re Stokes, right?” The front man – Stokes, apparently – lowered the gun, confused as Peaches stepped forward. “It’s me. Clarissa Mao.”

“Miss Clarissa?” Stokes blinked. The gun wavered. He heard Butch mutter “Fucking seriously?” under her breath, but no one started firing. “Miss Clarissa! What are you doing here?”

“Trying to leave,” Peaches said, with a laugh in her voice. “What are you here for?”

Stokes smiled at her, and then nervously at Amos and Erich and all the others, shining his teeth at them like the beam from a deeply insecure lighthouse. “The evacuation order came when the second rock came down. The Quartermans all left. Took the ship, and gone. They all went. The Cooks, the Falkners, old man Landborn. Everyone, they took their ships and left. Told us the security would keep us safe until relief came. But there’s no relief, and the security? They’re thugs. They tell us we have to pay them since the Quartermans are gone, but what do we have?”

“All the Quartermans’ shit,” Amos said. “Which brings me back to my first point.”

“Are there any ships?” Peaches said. “We need a ship. Just to get us to Luna. That’s why we came here.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. The Bergavins left the Zhang Guo. It is in their hangar. We can take you there, Miss Clarissa, but —”

A sharp whistle came from the side door. From the street outside it. Butch met Amos’ gaze. “Company,” she said.