“I have scanned for his IFC hardware address. He has boarded. Not this shuttle. He is likely already in orbit. Oh, and I found another one of those owls. I killed it.”

Brisbane wonders, isn’t she supposed to check with him before that kind of action?

“So we have to board the Ragtime?” he says.

“In orbit, we’ll have access to the Deep Space Network. I can use the Ragtime to broadcast worldwide. It’ll be easy. It’s the better option.”

He hadn’t planned to go into space. “I was not prepared for space.”

“This is in the thermosphere. It’s only space because the Kármán line says it’s space. It’s legal space, but we’re still in the atmosphere. We’re fine. The suit isn’t rated for space, but I’m curious to see how it performs. I’ll be transmitting data back.”

Brisbane does not remember the shuttle trip, even though it takes six hours. It is marked by monotony. Carmilla ticks away in the background.

Brisbane has never killed anyone before. He hasn’t even done serious violence. When he was fourteen, a bully squared up to him, and Brisbane, having watched certain movies, smacked him across the throat. The boy thrashed about on the floor, choking. It lasted maybe a minute, but it seemed like hours during which Brisbane imagined going to prison for murder. He is not a violent man and whatever he needs to do here will be distasteful.

Instrument of vengeance, and word of caution.

Docked.

He knows fuck all about docking procedure or microgravity motion. There are company androids to show them to their seats. The Ragtime seems pretty basic until you get to the torus.

“For now, just sit in your pods. When we are ready, the medbots will take care of you.”

“Maxwell will be next to you,” says Carmilla.

“I should enter his pod?”

A voice on the PA system: “Do not enter the pods of other passengers.”

“Yes, enter his pod. That has the best probability of killing him. Your pulse is high, tachycardic. Your respiratory rate is rising. Are you preparing for battle? There is no need. The suit amplifies our strength.”

Inside his pod. There is a seat that looks like it can convert to a bed. The walls are busy with medical devices and inert robot arms and tools. Soft music pipes through.

“Now, Brisbane. This is the optimal time. Go.”

He does.

Carmilla overrides the pod lock and Brisbane faces his enemy.

Maxwell looks up at Brisbane. “What do you want?”

“I…” Brisbane falls back to his own pod, shaking, unsettled.