by HD Smith
“Even if she wouldn’t hurt anyone?” Gen asked.
“They won’t care. They will eliminate the threat and maybe ask questions later.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Susan9 is a danger, but my uncle getting his hands on that tech would be a thousand times worse. I can’t let that happen, and you can’t protect her without being able to protect yourself first. Everything hinges on you being declared the Head of House Zar.”
“What if the WLA refuses?” she asked.
“They have no laws in place to prevent a legitimate House heir from taking control of their House. They may turn around and arrest the heir, but they’ll be taking a Head of House to trial, not just an elite.”
“Did Susan9 find any Zar facilities?” Gen asked.
“She said yes, but didn’t tell me any details. I think she was waiting for you to join us.”
“Or you needed to be more direct with your questions. She’s got a few human characteristics, but she’s still a chat bot at her core.”
“Maybe,” I said. “There are no precedents for this type of situation. For all we know, the assassin will wake up one day and Susan9 will be no more.”
I’d already messaged Dexter to find a failsafe for our MHC. Susan9 had sent us the code that animated her, which meant there had to be a way to disable the construct, and I wanted to know what that was. If Dalton already had this tech, I needed a weapon against it.
“House Cortez knows about my hair,” Gen said. “Dr. Parker said there were anomalies in my blood. Should we be worried about that?”
“No. Your hair and eyes are hidden for now. House Cortez needs you for the patent. They’ve already publicly stated you’re disguising yourself with pink hair, which means they’ll continue to downplay any possibility that you’re House Zar. It isn’t in their best interest, and they know proving you’re an elite of House Zar would be difficult, so I doubt they’re even considering you’re trying to do that.”
“Is Donovan going to be a problem?”
I shrugged. “I was hired to do a job I didn’t want to do. There’s no way anyone can prove I stole the CME, but since it’s no longer available, there’s also no way I can prove I didn’t steal it. Blythe Donovan isn’t going to let this go easily. I may have to disappear. Or if we can prove you’re House Zar, some of my other problems might get fixed along the way.”
She nodded. “I wish I could just disappear, but this”—she said, holding out a hank of her hair that had a hint of pink in the white-blonde locks—“makes that impossible.”
“Is the spell fading?” I asked.
“The pink is apparently very persistent. I’ll spell it again before we leave the apartment.”
Gen jumped when the cargo bay buzzer sounded.
“It’s just your new clothes,” I said. “I knew you’d need some things. I also ordered you some gear for your first OE adventure.”
I brought up a floating panel with the security feed from the loading dock. It was a guy on a scooter from Sahara, the largest on-stream store in the Known Worlds.
I unlocked the package chute and turned on the speaker.
“Deposit the package in the chute,” I said.
He dropped it in and left. The chute automatically scanned the deposit, checking for explosives or trackers. It was clean. I called the cargo chute to the 3rd floor, pulled up the Sahara app, and tipped the delivery guy the standard fee plus ten extra credits for the fast delivery.
“What did you order?” Gen asked.
“I ordered you complete gear for extreme hiking on Canis. It’s close enough to the experience of Old Earth without tripping any security bots that monitor search strings. I picked things that would work well for any climate. We’ll also have the option to pick up gear on planet.”
“How do you know so much about Old Earth?”
“My alter ego, Professor Julian Tor-Vargas, goes there often for research and exploration.”
She laughed. “You’re Tor-Vargas?”
“I am. Have you heard of me?”
“While I was searching, I found a few of your papers and read them. I learned some things, but nothing about traveling to Old Earth.”
“He can’t give up all his secrets,” I said. “Depending on where the compound is located, we may need to prepare for harsh weather—freezing cold or blistering heat. I usually get clothes on the planet.”
“Are they easy to find, in good condition?” she asked.
“There was a planned exodus via spaceship that never happened. Many perfectly sealed survival pods are just lying around for the pillaging.”
“Wow,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“It was cool the first time I found one,” I said.
The chute dinged, letting me know Gen’s package had arrived. I handed it over and told Gen to change and pack while I rehydrated a quick breakfast for us. We needed to leave within the hour, or we risked still being here when Wyatt was set free.
Dexter appeared as I popped the breakfast pods in the cooker. Today he was wearing an OE 1960 surfer dude look, complete with sunglasses and swim trunks. His hair was sun-kissed blond and his skin was a warm summer bronze, tanned to perfection.
Because we were alone, I took the opportunity to discuss last night’s reveal.
“You don’t have to hide your real identity from me. You know that, right?” I asked. “Wear whatever face you like, but know that my opinion of you didn’t change after yesterday’s unmasking.”
He gave me a tentative smile, then switched his face back to the one I’d seen yesterday. He kept the tan and the swim trunks, but he was done hiding his real features. I considered that a win.
“And it goes without saying,” I said, “but if you need anything—”
Dexter held up his hand. “It’s nothing you can fix, boss. Just a crappy chromosome no one can modify.”
“So if I get you a special suit, are you going to finally make an in-person appearance and go to Old Earth with me? Not this trip, of course, but next time?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
That was Dexter’s usual response, but at least now I knew what was driving his hesitation.
“Have you heard anything about the K12 break-in? Has it made the news cycle yet?”
“No,” Dexter said. “How about the Zar compound? Did Susan9 find anything?”
“She did, but apparently I didn’t ask her the right questions. As soon as Gen gets dressed, we’ll get the details.”
“You’re really okay with the AI?” he asked.
“No, but we don’t have a lot of choices right now. Did you work on the thing?” I asked, referring to the secret comm I’d sent him last night to find a failsafe for protection against the MHC if it went rogue.
“You mean the puzzle box with forty-seven levels of encryption you sent? Yeah, I’ve got a few ideas.”
Dexter flicked his hand toward me, and a glyph displayed on my screen.
“Show that to Gen,” he said.
“What does it do?” I asked.
“It adds a command-based off switch.”
“What’s the command?”
“Susan9, shut down,” Dexter said.
That was simple enough.
Ten minutes later, Gen came out from her bedroom. She was wearing a sleek black dragon-scale flight suit, with military-style boots, gloves, and eyewear.
Dexter pulled his sunglasses down his nose to look over the rims. “Liam, you never look this good in your soldier suits.”
“Is all this necessary?” Gen asked.
Susan9 followed Gen into the room, took one look at Gen’s outfit, and changed her dress to match.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “The suit is made of myst-infused scales that can block most projectiles and confuse scanning sensors. Once it’s fully charged, the protections are good for six hours—but that’s six hours on Canis where there’s some myst in the air. On Old Earth, it’ll last about half that ti
me. Depending on where the Zar compound is, we may need to add an outerwear layer to stay warm, which is why I got you the body-hugging stealth suit.”
Susan9 added, “According to the manufacturer, the edge of each scale has the ability to store a tiny amount of myst. That’s what gives it the strength needed to deflect projectiles. Shall I give my report now?”
Gen motioned with her hand for Susan9 to continue.
“Wait,” I said. “First we need to add a few precautions.”
“What?” Gen asked.
I took the glyph Dexter had sent me and messaged it to Gen.
Her eyes widened. Before Susan9 had a chance to remind her to shut it down, Gen sent a pulse of energy out in all directions, releasing the spell.
“What the hell was that?” Gen yelled.
“It’s just a precaution,” I said, just as Dexter spoke the command.
“Susan9, shut down.”
Nothing happened.
“Liam, you do it,” Dexter said.
“Susan9, shut down,” I said. Still, nothing happened.
“Why didn’t that work?” Dexter asked.
“What did you try to do?” Gen demanded.
“Like I said—”
Gen cut me off. “Screw your precautions. What did you try to do?”
“It was just a spell to give us a failsafe.” Looking at Dexter, I said, “Which we should have only used in an emergency.”
“It didn’t work. It should have worked,” Dexter said.
“It didn’t work,” Susan9 said, “because you don’t know my name.”
What did she mean? Did we need her original holographic registration number? Or the name of the assassin? On the encrypted comm we’d used earlier, I sent Dexter a message.
[ENCRYPTED COMM – LIAM: Find her holographic registration number and the name of the assassin]
[ENCRYPTED COMM – DEXTER: 10-4, boss]
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We weren’t trying to hurt you.”
Susan9 ignored my apology and resumed her spiel.
“I found several Zar compounds. Only one has the potential to contain genetic material. The other two were previously discovered, and if they were breached, the samples may be tainted or missing.”
“Okay,” Gen said, “so we’re ignoring that Liam and Dexter tried to weaponize my spell response. Got it.”
“It was not one of my better plans,” I agreed. “I won’t do it again.”
She inhaled a long breath. She was pissed, and I didn’t blame her. After a few seconds, she gave me a simple head nod, accepting my apology.
Gen looked at Susan9. “Where is the compound?”
Susan9 activated a floating panel and projected several Old Earth images. One appeared to be somewhere near the ancient city of Anchorage, Alaska, in the vast wilderness of Canada. Another was near the ancient London of United Kingdom. And the final was somewhere in China.
“Which one has the genetic material?” I asked.
Susan9 zoomed into the location in China. “At the time of the exodus, China’s laws allowed for the most lenient exploration of cloning and genetic research. Zar focused its genetic enhancements at this facility. It is where the marker was identified, the gene sequence that isolated and created the violet eyes and pink hair. It has the highest probability of containing an intact emergency response kit and genetic material for Zar royals that were used in its research.”
“We’ll take the details for all the facilities,” I said, “but we’ll start with China.”
I grabbed the floating panel and queried the distance from Hong Kong, my normal layover location, to the Zar facility. It was within an hour. I’d also be able to use the clothes I had there for the China weather.
“We need to pack up now and head out,” I said. “Dexter, I want you monitoring everything Wyatt does. We have to stay ahead of House Cortez. As soon as Wyatt sees the alert for Gen, he’ll sell the information.”
“10-4,” Dexter said.
“What does 10-4 mean?” Gen asked.
“Affirmative,” Dexter said. “It’s one of Liam’s little quirks. He likes OE slang.”
“Interesting,” Gen said.
The buzzer for the loading dock sounded.
“Lucy-damn-hell,” Dexter cursed.
He opened a floating panel displaying the security feed. Four Peacekeepers were at the loading dock entrance.
“What are they doing here?” Gen asked.
“Could Wyatt have gotten out early?” I asked.
“Checking now,” Dexter said. “It could just be PKs on a random drive-by.”
“PKs don’t do random drive-bys,” I said.
“Wyatt’s doors are still sealed,” Dexter said. “What do you want to do?”
“I’ll go down and get rid of them,” I said. “Gen, grab something to eat and take your pack to the ship.”
“What should I take, Liam?” Susan9 asked.
“You aren’t going,” I said.
“She can’t stay here,” Gen said. “Not with Wyatt coming after me. He knows something’s up with Susan9.”
Gen was right, but I hadn’t wanted to take the AI off world. I could try to leave her in my storage unit, but I suspected I’d come back to an APB for my arrest if I did that.
“Fine, but she can’t get out on Old Earth,” I said. The buzzer sounded again. “Notify them I’m on my way.”
“How are you going to get rid of them?” Gen asked.
“Trade secret,” I said. “Dexter, transfer the specs for the Dragon-Fire to Susan9. If she’s going, she might as well know how to fly the ship.”
“You sure, boss?” Dexter asked.
Hell no, I wasn’t sure, but if I needed someone to pilot the ship while I was on the ground, Susan9 would have an easier time than Dexter.
“Yes. Do it.”
I stepped into the void and arrived at the loading bay door just as the buzzer sounded a third time. I turned on the face-to-face app.
“Identify yourself,” I said.
“I’m PK-58-119782. We have a warrant to search the premises. Open the door,” the lead Peacekeeper said.
“Present your paperwork,” I said.
The Peacekeeper tapped his Link then flicked his finger across the screen. A warrant with the proper signatures displayed on my panel.
Dammit. I wasn’t going to be able to send them away based on procedure.
I opened the loading bay door. The Peacekeepers moved to step forward, but I stopped them.
“PK-58-119782, stand down. Order 28-2290.”
The Peacekeeper froze. The other three Peacekeepers stopped behind their leader, which was protocol during a routine search.
“State your directive,” the lead Peacekeeper said.
“97-99-123,” I said, using an override command to take control of the conversation, “state your directive.”
“We are here to look for stolen CME. Your trace signature was detected on a disabled spider bot found at the location of the theft.”
That was a weak amount of evidence. And my spider bots weren’t registered. They had to have used illegal tech to get this address.
“97-99-432,” I said, using a command for changing orders, “you found no evidence here. A mistake was made in determining the location. New location: Blythe Donovan’s office in Center City.”
“Acknowledged,” the lead Peacekeeper said.
As a group, they turned to leave.
I glanced up and down the alley, but saw no one skulking around. I texted Dexter to review the surveillance feeds and erase my interaction with the Peacekeepers.
When I turned around, Jameson Wyatt was standing between me and the door from the loading dock into the main building.
“That was impressive,” he said. “Kind of like how you trapped me in my own fucking apartment for over seven hours.”
I closed the door to the street. I didn’t have time to deal with this right now. A lot hinged on Gen getting the genetic material to prove
her identity. Jameson Wyatt would have to wait.
“You need to mind your own business,” I said. “Clearly, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
He laughed. “You’re harboring an escaped mental patient from House Cortez. I’m honor bound to report the escapee.”
I laughed. “You’re a half-rate stitcher at best,” I said, using the derogatory term for a backstreet surgeon.
“I’ve got enough friends to jack up your world, junior, so don’t threaten me.”
I raised one of my eyebrows. “Walk away from this or don’t, but the woman is under my protection, and you living or dying is no skin off my nose.”
“Does your uncle know you’re here?” he asked.
Dammit. I really didn’t want to kill anyone today. I turned on my spell to read his protections, and he lit up like an OE Christmas tree. I activated a lockdown on the loading dock and stepped into the void.
“Dexter,” I said once I was on the ship. “I trapped Wyatt in the loading dock, but that won’t hold him long.”
“He’s going to continue to be a problem,” Dexter said.
“Find something on him,” I said.
“Half of the underworld owes him favors.”
“Find someone in the other half who wants him dead.”
“You want to go down that path, boss?” Dexter asked.
No, I didn’t want to go down that path, but my only other option was to leave Tau and never return as Liam Anderson. Disappear again and start over. It had been hard enough the first time, when I’d had a month to plan my escape. This time I’d be leaving a long trail of evidence behind me. I’d have to ditch the data sales and leave behind the Tor-Vargas persona. Not to mention I couldn’t leave Gen alone with no help, and I couldn’t take her on the run with me or I’d never escape. Her hair was too distinctive to blend in. No matter what, I had to help her prove her identity first.
“Offer him something else,” I said. “Figure out what the hell he wants and get it for him.”
“What’s my limit?”
“Two million credits, the same as the building.”
“10-4.”
Gen stepped in from the sleeping quarters. She’d probably overheard some of that conversation, but I didn’t care. The ship was too small to hide everything.