The Technomancers had prepped the shuttle, used specialized exoskeletons to put it together like a Lego kit. Trevor was waiting for them, smoking a cigarette he'd bummed off an Aldecaldos gunwheeler, his netsuit scrolling bright Aztec patterns and grinning calaveras, which V thought was weird; that sort of thing didn't seem like Trevor's style. "Crazy shit," he said, blowing a cloud of smoke, glancing up at the shuttle. "Never seen one of these modulars before. 'Mancer specialty, I hear." He looked at Ayako, then said, "You look hammered shit, Yako."
"I'll be fine," she said, and shook her head. "Shuttle almost done?"
Trevor finished the cigarette, some kind of Mexican cigarillo, and flicked the butt to the asphalt, grinding it under a heavy combat boot. He nodded. "Yup, just runnin' some diags right now," and he jerked a thumb toward a throng of 'Mancer technicians huddling around the shuttle, running scans.
"What 'bout the dead?" asked V.
"Aldecaldos and 'Mancers are takin' theirs, and the Digis'll handle ours. No Trauma Team. Nobody's got coverage here, other than Yako and Buster." Trevor paused, started profusely itching his facial implants like they were full of fleas.
"Y'okay?" asked V.
"Feels like half my face is on fire," said Trevor. He stopped itching, studied his black-painted nails like he might find an answer somewhere in his cuticles. "Fuckin' weird, right?"
Ayako stared at him, sudden and intense.
"What?" said Trevor, catching her look.
She shook her head. "Nothin'." Ayako paused. Then, "Hey, Trevor. What'd the subnet's macroform look like?"
"Who fuckin' cares 'bout macroforms? Astrology for netrunners." Trevor paused, like he was confused and trying to puzzle out what exactly had confused him. "I mean, was pretty complex. Never seen shapes like that before." He looked at her and shrugged. "Fuckin' AIs, choom."
"Hey," Buster cut in, "quit your yapping, deckhead. Shuttle's ready."
V darted a look between Ayako and Trevor before Judy was pulling her away toward the launch-tower, where the Technomancers were using heavy machinery to maneuver the shuttle onto the framework. They ascended a steep scaffolding of attenuated steel and expansion-grate, the platform vibrating with their weight, and paused in front of the shuttle's hatch, its borders delineated by a high-performance micropolymer gasket. A 'Mancer technician opened the hatch for them, the gasket depressurizing and releasing, and lifted it, motioning them inside with his dataslate. Inside were six seats upholstered in pale nanofoam, each one rigged with a harness to keep riders locked into place while in zero-gravity.
"The interior's oxygenated, so no masks," said the technician, a bald, soft-spoken Laotian man. "But due to space constraints, we weren't able to include a SGES—a simulated gravity environment system, if you're wondering—so we had to install the harnesses instead. You don't get nauseous easily, do you?"
"Whaddya mean?" asked Judy.
"Space Adaptation Syndrome," said the man. "But as long as you close your eyes when the indicator instructs you to do so, you should be fine."
"If you puke on me," said Buster, looking at Judy, "I'm going to do it right back, kid."
"Y'get Space Sickness? Thought y'used to be a delta-jet pilot, Buster," said V.
"I don't get SAS, kid, but I'll make myself get SAS if Alvarez pukes on me."
"If you feel the need to vomit," said the Technomancer to Judy, "there are bags aboard the shuttle for that."
"I ain't gonna puke," said Judy, but she sounded like she didn't believe that.
"I probably will," said Panam, grimacing.
They piled into the shuttle. V sat down beside Judy, Ayako opposite her, Panam and Buster flanking either side of her. A single porthole of tempered aluminosilicate glass offered them a view of the Sonoran, and the distant rainbow glimmer of Phoenix.
Buster showed them how to secure their harnesses, and the Technomancer double-checked his work. "I know what I'm doing," Buster grunted at the man. He thrust an articulated metal finger at the technician. "I was flying in high orbit when you weren't even a twitch in your granddaddy's crown jewels, kid."
"Of course," said the Technomancer, placatingly. Then, "Your belongings have already been sent ahead of you via Lunar Delivery Solutions, courtesy of Lucy Kushinada."
The hatch closed and sealed, and the countdown began. Panam asked, "So we're really going to meet the Queen of Tycho?"
"Yep," said Ayako, smiling. "She's gonna meet us at the Crystal Palace. Like I said before, she's sponsorin' our stay. One of the stipulations is her keepin' an eye on us, makin' sure we don't cause any trouble up there. She's gotta reputation to maintain, so Lucy's gonna do whatever she's gotta to make sure we ain't a problem." She leaned back in her seat, adding, "Don't let just anyone run 'round the Crystal Palace, not without someone to vouch for 'em. Especially a buncha dirt-rats—what some of the Highriders call us Earthfolk."
"Just remember," said Buster, and he was talking to Judy, "if you puke on me, Alvarez—"
"You'll puke on me," finished Judy, nodding. "Don't worry, old man, I ain't gonna hurl." She paused, furrowing her brow. "Maybe."
"How do you know Lucy, anyway?" Panam asked Ayako.
"I was her rebound for a literal hot minute," said Ayako. "Think we dated for a month before kinda just callin' it quits. She never got over David, I never got over Juan. But we kept in touch, stayed friends. Did some jobs for her, designed some preem blacksoft for her netrunners."
The countdown finished. The shuttle lurched, its engines roaring, so loud it was like someone had stuffed V's phonics full of cotton. Through the porthole, V watched as dark clouds gave way to vacuum, saw the bright cerulean curve of the Earth below, dense clusters of lights shimmering on its continents where cities had been built. Gravity released, and V felt herself floating in the harness, just slightly above the nanofoam, an odd whorl of vertigo overcoming her, the sour, raw edge of vomit in her throat.
An indicator light snapped on, the onboard system instructing them to close their eyes, or to focus on the indicator until their SAS symptoms passed. V closed her eyes. Heard Judy throw up, and Buster swear, telling her to get it in the bag.
The engine died to a thrum as the shuttle entered cruise-mode. Judy, relieved of her stomach contents and feeling much better for it, was pressing her face against the glass, goggling like a kid seeing a theme-park for the first time.
"It's so fuckin' bright," said Judy, watching the Earth, streams of drones and shuttles descending and ascending the orbital wells, delivering and receiving goods in an endless efflux of interorbital commerce. "Godddamn," she said, "the braindances don't really do space any fuckin' justice."
"It's just space," grunted Buster. But he softened a bit, then said, "Still, I get it. That first time? Always sticks with you, Alvarez."
Even Panam was craning her neck to see outside the porthole, looking awestruck. "It is beautiful," she agreed, almost grudgingly.
The flight took three hours, and when they disembarked the shuttle, they had to float through a pressurized airlock, kicking and tumbling through the air like they were swimming in turbid water. V laughed, performing a slow-motion somersault right into Buster, who swore and told her to use the handholds, this wasn't a goddamn playground.
"You're no fuckin' fun, choom," said V, grabbing one of the rubber handholds and pitching herself forward, scudding through zero-g. "This is fuckin' nova!" she exclaimed, grabbing another pair of handrungs and swinging herself forward with a shriek of delight, tumbling into Judy, both of them floating along and giggling like teenagers, Judy gliding on her back, her arms wrapped tightly around V.
"Fuck the Palace. We're havin' fun in the goddamn airlock," said Ayako, laughing. She executed a smooth flip, catching herself on a handhold with one hand, the polycarbonate biochip case in the other, and pushing, her momentum carrying her toward the hatch to the Palace.
Buster, however, wasn't having nearly as much fun. He had to squeeze himself through the airlock, heaving his considerable bulk along the handrungs. "Let's hurry up and get out of here. It's fucking cramped."
The hatch opened to a gravity chamber, the airlock sealing behind them as some unseen mechanism whirred, and they were rooted to the ground. The sudden transition to gravity left V's extremities feeling numb and tingly, though the sensation didn't last long, and soon, her body was reacquainting itself with a sense of weight. The door in front of them, which instructed them to stand back, released with a hiss, opening to a huge room of marble and glass, populated by a species of people designed by high-end ripperdocs in the boutique clinics of the world.
"Welcome to the Crystal Palace," said a guard in a dark ESA uniform, flanked on either side by Militech security robots. The microlights in his oculars flashed as he scanned them, probably looking for any outstanding warrants or something else that he could hang them on. V could tell the guy didn't really like the look of them. "Clear. You'll need to sign in at the Customs—"
"Not necessary," said another voice, a woman. "They're with me."
V looked, saw a thin, pale woman standing there, her hair dyed a mother-of-pearl color and cut in an expensive-looking neokitsch bob. Her style looked like a tourist's style: lace-up boots, black leather neotacs, a midriff shirt with the words ONE GIANT LEAP FOR MANKIND printed over a picture of the Moon. But what stood out the most to V was her oversized fluorescent yellow jacket; it looked, V decided, like something that had maybe belonged to a paramedic at some point in its life.
"Hey, Lucy," said Ayako.
"Was wondering when you were going to show up, Ayako," said Lucy. She paused, looked at the security guard and waved him off. "You can go away now. I've got this."
The security guard hesitated, then left.
"Don't worry about security," said Lucy, regarding them mildly. "All the paperwork's done. You're chill to be here."
"Gotta lot of pull on the Palace, huh?" said V, grinning.
"'Course I do," said Lucy, smiling. "I'm the best fixer in Tycho. I know everyone worth knowing." She stepped toward V, extended a manicured hand. "You must be V. I've heard a lot about you. Kicked up quite a fuss in Night City. Konpeki? Preem work. Love seeing Arasaka get kicked in the nuts."
V shook her hand. "Too bad it was a total shitshow."
"Sometimes jobs go sideways," said Lucy, and made her way over to the others, shaking their hands. "You're Judy Alvarez—saw some of your braindances at Lizzie's. Real nova stuff."
"Gonna make me blush," said Judy, sheepishly.
"And you're Panam Palmer. Aldecaldos. Associate of Rogue?"
"Fuck that old, mean bitch," said Panam, chuckling. "But yes."
"And you," said Lucy, peering at Buster, "are obviously Buster Kilroy. Couldn't mistake that face for anyone else."
Buster snorted. "Except Adam Smasher, maybe. I've been told I have a passing resemblance."
"Smasher's dead, and you're not," said Lucy. "So don't worry, I won't make that mistake." She took a step back, surveying the group. "Suppose you'll want to settle into your rooms at the hotel. I'll take you. We can ride the lightrail over."
Gotoda appeared in V's ocular field, leaning against a wall. "Keep your eyes peeled for Oiwa, Valerie-san," he cautioned. "I know she's around here somewhere. Waiting. So is Sam. We're on his turf now, so be careful."