into his pocket. “Eventually. Not for another six to nine hours, though. It will take that long for the hypermatter reaction to destabilize sufficiently.”
“What good does that do us?” said Murdock. “You do know we’re actually on the ship you’re blowing up, don’t you?”
“Oh,” I said as the realization came to me.
“Explain it for Murdock,” said Corbin with a faint smile. “Computer guys deal with software, and they aren’t used to the nuts and bolts of the real world.”
Murdock scowled. “I’ll tell you what you can do with your nuts and bolts.”
“If two operating hypermatter reactors get too close to each other,” I said, recalling the prep material for the certification test, “they can become entangled on a quantum level. Like… tachyons, that’s it. The regulator is supposed to keep that from happening. Except Corbin pulled out the regulator’s processor while the hypermatter reactor on Ducarti’s ships are still running.”
“Which means,” Corbin broke in, “that when our reactor goes up, the reactors on the
Vanguard
and the troop transport will go as well. Doesn’t matter how far they run, or even if they make it to hyperspace. Once two hypermatter reactors are entangled, if one goes, they both go.”
“Wonderful,” I said. I suppose it would be poetic justice if Ducarti was blown up unawares, just as he had done to my mother and brother. I didn’t particularly want to blow up with him, though.
“Fine,” said Murdock. “So we’re going to particulate in nine hours unless you put that processor back into the regulator. But what about the rest of it, Rovio? Ducarti seems to think that there’s some sort of secret list of Social Party agents encoded into the junk DNA of the grain shipment.”
There was silence for a moment.
“He’s not wrong,” my uncle finally said.
Murdock swore loudly and threw his hands up. “I don’t mind the dangerous cargoes. But cloak-and-dagger nonsense, Rov? I thought you had left the military. We all did!” He waved a hand in my direction. “What’s next, you’ll tell me that the kid is actually a trained infiltrator or something?”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“What Mr. Rovio just said, although not in so many words,,” explained Murdock, still steaming, “is that he’s an intelligence officer with the Coalition navy.”
“Really?” I said.
“I’m afraid so,” said Corbin.
“And you never told me?” I said.
“The point of being a secret intelligence officer,” said Corbin, “is not to tell anyone, though I expect it’s a little late at this point. After I finished my term in the navy, the intel division recruited me. The main focus of Coalition intelligence for years has been the Social Party, and as you can imagine, I have something of a grudge against the bastards. Working for Starways gives me an excellent excuse to travel around the Thousand Worlds, and there are always little errands that need doing here and there.”
Murdock’s eyes narrowed. “Wet work? Black ops? Offing agents of the Revolution?”
Corbin didn’t blink. “Sometimes. If need be. Not often, though. Killing a man usually makes a bigger mess than just leaving suspicious funds in his account, or delivering the contents of his phone to the local police.”
“All right,” said Murdock. “So this business with the list encoded in the junk DNA. Was this your mission?”
“Not originally,” said Corbin. “Some of the exiles on New Sibersk thought it up. The colony is mostly refugees from Novorossiya III, from when the revolutionary government went berserk and began the mass executions before it finally collapsed. Consequently, exiles and refugees from other worlds the Social Party has trashed tend to wind up there. Some of them were former members of the Socials’ intelligence and secret police apparatuses, and they had a lot of information their former higher-ups didn’t want falling into the wrong hands.”
“So
“What good does that do us?” said Murdock. “You do know we’re actually on the ship you’re blowing up, don’t you?”
“Oh,” I said as the realization came to me.
“Explain it for Murdock,” said Corbin with a faint smile. “Computer guys deal with software, and they aren’t used to the nuts and bolts of the real world.”
Murdock scowled. “I’ll tell you what you can do with your nuts and bolts.”
“If two operating hypermatter reactors get too close to each other,” I said, recalling the prep material for the certification test, “they can become entangled on a quantum level. Like… tachyons, that’s it. The regulator is supposed to keep that from happening. Except Corbin pulled out the regulator’s processor while the hypermatter reactor on Ducarti’s ships are still running.”
“Which means,” Corbin broke in, “that when our reactor goes up, the reactors on the
Vanguard
and the troop transport will go as well. Doesn’t matter how far they run, or even if they make it to hyperspace. Once two hypermatter reactors are entangled, if one goes, they both go.”
“Wonderful,” I said. I suppose it would be poetic justice if Ducarti was blown up unawares, just as he had done to my mother and brother. I didn’t particularly want to blow up with him, though.
“Fine,” said Murdock. “So we’re going to particulate in nine hours unless you put that processor back into the regulator. But what about the rest of it, Rovio? Ducarti seems to think that there’s some sort of secret list of Social Party agents encoded into the junk DNA of the grain shipment.”
There was silence for a moment.
“He’s not wrong,” my uncle finally said.
Murdock swore loudly and threw his hands up. “I don’t mind the dangerous cargoes. But cloak-and-dagger nonsense, Rov? I thought you had left the military. We all did!” He waved a hand in my direction. “What’s next, you’ll tell me that the kid is actually a trained infiltrator or something?”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“What Mr. Rovio just said, although not in so many words,,” explained Murdock, still steaming, “is that he’s an intelligence officer with the Coalition navy.”
“Really?” I said.
“I’m afraid so,” said Corbin.
“And you never told me?” I said.
“The point of being a secret intelligence officer,” said Corbin, “is not to tell anyone, though I expect it’s a little late at this point. After I finished my term in the navy, the intel division recruited me. The main focus of Coalition intelligence for years has been the Social Party, and as you can imagine, I have something of a grudge against the bastards. Working for Starways gives me an excellent excuse to travel around the Thousand Worlds, and there are always little errands that need doing here and there.”
Murdock’s eyes narrowed. “Wet work? Black ops? Offing agents of the Revolution?”
Corbin didn’t blink. “Sometimes. If need be. Not often, though. Killing a man usually makes a bigger mess than just leaving suspicious funds in his account, or delivering the contents of his phone to the local police.”
“All right,” said Murdock. “So this business with the list encoded in the junk DNA. Was this your mission?”
“Not originally,” said Corbin. “Some of the exiles on New Sibersk thought it up. The colony is mostly refugees from Novorossiya III, from when the revolutionary government went berserk and began the mass executions before it finally collapsed. Consequently, exiles and refugees from other worlds the Social Party has trashed tend to wind up there. Some of them were former members of the Socials’ intelligence and secret police apparatuses, and they had a lot of information their former higher-ups didn’t want falling into the wrong hands.”
“So
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