by Jody Wallace
The robot behind the reception desk in the huge, empty lobby studied him—or studied Vex’s ugly face—when he approached. And this was only the first test Lincoln would need to pass in order to pull off the heist of the Mozim power converter.
Or had the first test been Briar convincing him to do it?
“Individual Gullim Vex,” Axel said. Hopefully that meant Javier’s DNA mask was fooling the AI’s sensors. “Your absence has been noted.”
“I got busy.” The sound of Vex’s voice was rough in his throat. His internals hadn’t all shifted, but enough that his vocal cords produced the desired tones. Javier assured him he could pass a voice rec. “Need to see the boss.”
“Which one?” Axel asked.
“Uh.” Lincoln adjusted his grip on the cat carrier. Pumpkin growled and Axel’s gaze dropped to the crate. Their team had questioned Jenna and Vex separately, with participation from some hidden cats, in order for Lincoln and Briar to learn enough about their targets to perform their masquerades. According to Vex, the Tank Union Board didn’t know about Steven’s activities. According to Han-Ja, Axel did.
“Director Wat,” Lincoln muttered, wondering when he should start adding curse words. Gullim Vex in captivity cursed nonstop, but would he curse less in front of Axel and his employer?
“I will see if he’s available.” Axel probably had chronos and P-tabs and scanners and everything a human would need installed inside its head, so the only thing on the reception desk were Axel’s hands. After a moment, Axel continued. “He will see you. Do you know where his new office is?”
Vex hadn’t visited Steven Wat in Yassa Port much, to cut down on people realizing they were working together behind the scenes to do crimes. “Dunno where he is since he got promoted.”
“I will escort you.” Axel rose in that smooth, almost sinuous way of advanced AI units. A few segments of the Oka Conglomerate built and studied AIs with almost fanatical intensity, so Lincoln was familiar with bots.
Vex, however, wouldn’t be, so Lincoln screwed up his face in the grimace he’d practiced in the mirror. “Whatever.”
Though Briar, and formerly Steven, had worked in the official three-story Tank Union building, the directors’ offices were in the nondescript structure next door. Not many people realized they weren’t housed in the same place, supposedly as a safety protocol during raids. They met with people in a room off the main lobby, if they didn’t want those people knowing the truth.
A concealed passage led from building to building, and soon Axel and Lincoln climbed a set of metal stairs without any other doors to the directors’ level. The lower parts of the building were hail-proof rental storage units and a protein bar dispensary.
Pumpkin wouldn’t be able to read Axel’s mind and Vex wouldn’t be sociable with a bot, so Lincoln didn’t thank Axel for guiding him. He concentrated on shambling and glaring. Pumpkin occasionally fed suggestions into his mind—the orange cat’s mindvoice was quieter than Mighty’s—about how he should behave based on whatever the cat could pull from people around them.
Not even Jenna Banu’s con of him in Oka Conglomerate had been as blatant as the one Lincoln was about to perpetuate. Briar’s impersonation of Jenna herself would be even more bold than Lincoln slipping in to assess the battlefield, so to speak.
The door at the top of the stairs had a touchpad that Axel activated. Thinking the information might be useful, Lincoln watched the number, feeding it to Pumpkin who could help remember. Probably. The metal door slid open to reveal a polished chrome and white interior that looked nothing like the rest of Trash Planet. It didn’t look like the Catamaran, Oka, or Gizem, either, the other three places Lincoln was familiar with.
Schooling his features into Vex’s glower, he clomped into the room. The door slid closed behind him with a hissing suction, as if trapping him inside.
“You’re the last person I ever wanted to see again,” growled a man’s voice.
Lincoln wouldn’t have expected that greeting from anyone in Tank Union. But the voice also wasn’t one he’d expected to encounter in Tank Union.
He turned toward the source of the voice and locked gazes with Edge. The wiry man had stepped through a silver door and was regarding Lincoln as if he were the worst thing he’d ever seen.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Lincoln demanded. Vex probably hadn’t known Edge before the train wreck, but they’d sure as all hells would remember each other now. If Edge said anything about Vex getting snatched, Lincoln and Pumpkin would be hard pressed to talk their way out of that one.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Edge said. “Last time I saw you, you weren’t so friendly.”
“I work here,” Lincoln lied. Vex didn’t, not exactly. Any of the directors could overhear this conversation, so he needed to be careful. The silver doors against the far wall probably led to their private offices. “But you’ve got no reason to be here.”
Edge still hadn’t made any threatening moves beyond aggressive commentary. “I’m collecting the reward money for information about your disappearance, and you just busted it.”
“Who’s that?” Steven’s voice called, before he stepped through the same door Edge had used. “Vex. Well, I’ll be damned. I thought you said his body was in the Mire?”
So Edge hadn’t told Steven the truth. Interesting. Not that Edge knew the whole truth, but why did he think he could collect reward money with a false story about the location of Vex’s body?
“I guess that was a different big, ugly bristler-face.” Edge shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his metal-stripped jacket. “Been a few drops lately.”
He does know where a body is, Pumpkin said in Lincoln’s mind. More than one.
Was that significant or was Edge just a magnet for murderers? Cats were so damn useful. And so much damn trouble.
“Vex!” Tim strode out of Steven’s office as well, approaching Lincoln with a lot more enthusiasm than the other two men. “Buddy, I thought we’d lost you.”
Was he going to…
Yep, Tim grabbed Lincoln into his arms in a thorough hug and pounded on his back hard enough to make Lincoln wince. Lincoln allowed the hug but didn’t set down the crate. Vex did not seem like a hugger. Then again, neither did Tim. Were the two guys related or something?
Tim held him at arm’s length and stared up at his face. “What happened to you?”
“I got sidetracked?” Lincoln lifted the cat carrier. “But now I’ll get money. A fucking lot of money,” he added for good measure.
“Speaking of money, I’ll be needing those reward DICs back,” Steven said to Edge in a nasal, demanding voice. “You lied.”
“Didn’t lie.” Edge met Lincoln’s gaze with raised eyebrows. “I’ve never met this guy in my life. But the reward holo looks just like the…carcass. Hey, maybe you know them both. Got any other missing people?”
“Pay me back,” Steven said, “and you won’t go missing yourself.” Edge raised his eyebrows and Tim chuckled.
What would the real Vex do? Try to kill Edge? Maybe. Spill what really happened on the train? Definitely. What would Edge expect from the real Vex after fibbing about the train encounter?
But the fact was, he wasn’t the real Vex. He needed to get in, have Pumpkin read some minds, and let Briar know whether to proceed. Javier’s nanobot goop lasted twelve hours, but a lot could happen in twelve hours. And he only had eight of the twelve hours left.
“It’s okay. I get that a lot,” Lincoln told everyone. Where were the other directors? Were the offices soundproof when the doors were closed? Han-Ja claimed the power converter had been in a safe, but now it could be anywhere. “That I look like so-and-so’s brother or some crap.”
It was true—Gullim Vex’s scraggly, dirty appearance was widespread on Trash Planet. The only remarkable thing about Vex was that he was middle-aged yet had all his appendages, if not all his teeth.
“I’ve never heard anyone say that to you,” Tim said.
“Then you weren’t listening,” Lincoln replied. Tim stiffened but stepped out of his space. “This guy made an honest mistake. Let him keep the money. When you see what I got in this crate, you won’t care about some stupid reward.”
“I always care about money.” Steven didn’t seem concerned about this confrontation being overheard, but he wasn’t exactly sharing the details of his crimes. A reward for information leading to the location of a missing employee wasn’t suspicious. “Refund the DICs, scammer.”
An ironic insult, coming from a thief and murderer.
“I offered the information in good faith,” Edge complained. “Came all the way to Yassa Port when I got business elsewhere. And indirectly it did lead to you finding the guy, cuz here he is.”
“Look, Wat, we really need to talk,” Lincoln urged. Pumpkin had remained quiet in the crate, but based on the weight of it, he hadn’t skipped out to tell the others anything, and he hadn’t had much to say to Lincoln. “Can this shit wait?”
Steven swaggered up to Edge with his shoulders tense and aggressive. The director’s dark, trendy business suit was a distinct contrast to the battered coveralls on the rest of them.
“In my office. Now,” Steven demanded.
“Nah. I think I’ll head out. Let you conduct your business. Sounds important.” Edge approached the exit door and halted when it remained closed. There was no knob or touchpad that indicated how the door should be activated.
Lincoln didn’t like the idea that they were trapped up here unless Steven or another director agreed they could leave. There had to be other exits. It wouldn’t be safe otherwise.
Steven ran his hands down the lapels of his suit coat. “Give me the money and an extra two thousand DICs for lying to me, and I’ll let you leave in one piece.”
“Now that ain’t reasonable.” Edge whipped around and glared at all three of them. “I was doing my civic duty.”
Steven just laughed. “Vex. Tim. Take care of this.”
Though Tim’s face split in a vicious grin, Lincoln didn’t set the crate down. He couldn’t hurt an innocent man to sustain this masquerade. Pumpkin, stop this if you can, he whispered in his mind.
“You don’t want to do this,” Edge warned, and he didn’t back away or appear to be particularly worried. “I know things. A man sees a lot when everyone ignores him because he’s nothing but a mota picker in the Mire. Lots of things happen in the Mire.”
What was he talking about? The other bodies? The way Vex had tried to kill them on the train? Boasting in hopes of keeping the money? This would be a good time for Pumpkin to chime in, but he didn’t utter a peep.
Whatever Edge meant, it didn’t affect Steven, who said with great annoyance, “What you are is Trash Planet scum that’s about to get a beat down if you don’t give me my money.”
“Is this a good place for a fight?” Lincoln tilted his head toward the wall of silver doors. How the hells were the other directors ignoring this?
Tim drew a gun. “Sure, these tile floors clean easy.”
“Well, fuck all y’all.” Edge fiddled with his wrist chrono, presumably reversing the transfer of funds. Steven flicked his fingers at Tim, who disappeared into the office.
A moment later, Tim called, “Money’s back. Plus two thou.”
“You shouldn’t have handled it this way,” Edge said in a level voice. “Now I’ll have to fuck some shit up.”
“Sure, sure.” Steven pointed at the exit with his chrono, activing a remote function of some sort. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he called after Edge’s retreating form. Then he motioned for Lincoln to go into the office.
“So where the fuck you been?” Tim said when the door closed. “You don’t answer your chrono anymore?”
“It died,” Lincoln offered. “But guess what I saw on my way back from the train wreck? That dancer guy and his cat. I tracked them until they were alone and…”
He opened the crate with a flourish.
They had agreed Pumpkin wouldn’t do anything to anger Steven since the guy might try to hurt him, but Pumpkin surged out of the crate like a blast of orange lightning. He launched himself at Steven’s face.
Steven shrieked and threw up his arms, stumbling back. Tim yelled.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Lincoln moved as fast as his bulky new body would allow and barely intersected the attack. Pumpkin buried his claws in Lincoln’s coveralls like a mountain climber and growled. “Nice kitty.”
Pumpkin hissed and spat over Lincoln’s shoulder at Steven. Lincoln was grateful for the thickness of the coveralls as he restrained the strong, squirming little body. What was Pumpkin trying to accomplish?
That was fun, Pumpkin whispered in response to Lincoln’s mental inquiry.
“It’s that fucking cat,” Steven exclaimed. Lincoln shoved Pumpkin back into the carrier with a grunt. Pumpkin’s squalls were hard to decipher—could be pain, could be anger, could be catty laughter. “Wil Tango came in here the other day asking for donations for a theater and had this cat with him.”
“Then I swiped the cat.” Lincoln explained over Pumpkin’s racket. The crate wasn’t transparent, but Pumpkin was definitely in it. And he could just stay there until he skipped out on his own. “So what?”
“Tim thinks he tried to buy a specific part, the one I’ve got that other buyer for.” Steven indicated Tim with a rude gesture. “It’s bullshit, though. Tango was asking about zheng parts in general.”
“He asked about the Mozim power converter,” Tim argued. Pumpkin began to simmer down, so the men were able to lower their voices. “Dunno why. We followed him to the clinic where he tried to get donations from them, too.”
“Because you remember it wrong, idiot,” Steven said with a snort. “He had a whole list of parts.”
“There was that fight, though,” Tim continued with a frown. “The one with the street gang. I musta been hit in the head, because I don’t recall much about it.”
They didn’t need Tim jogging his memories and overriding the work the cats had done to hide the brawl. Lincoln redirected the conversation.
“I heard, uh, that lady from the zheng ship?” Lincoln said. “Briar Pandora? Calls herself a freelancer now. She’s trying to get people to help her buy things for her client because, you know, nobody will touch her after you fired her. She sent Tango to you. Heard him talking about it before I took the cat.”
Tim cast Lincoln a strange look, but Steven uttered a disgusted noise. “She was such a useless rag that I can’t believe the directors didn’t get rid of her long ago.”
Steven might be convinced he was standard issue Gullim Vex, but Tim wasn’t. How could he be more credible? Talk about money.
“You know anyone who’d buy a cat? I figure you can have half and I can have the other half for pain and suffering.” Lincoln raised a hand to show where Pumpkin had scratched him. Strange to see his skin so pale, but the blood was the same red as always.
“I’ll take ninety, you get ten,” Steven said. “For disappearing like some asshole. Don’t make me put trackers in you. We gotta have trust here.”
“Hey, I assumed you’d want the cat.” Lincoln lowered his bleeding hand. “They’re worth a lot of money.”
“We have other shit to handle, and we didn’t need you vanishing like that,” Tim said, coming to stand beside Steven. Lincoln’s pulse kicked up a notch. “And you should know. Randall died.”
“Oh.” Shit, had Vex known Randall?
Yes, Pumpkin said in his mind. Pretend to be upset.
Finally, the cat did something besides try to scratch off Steven Wat’s face for a laugh.
“That…that sucks, man,” Lincoln said gruffly. Should he cry? He tightened his lips as if fighting his emotions, though he wasn’t sure they could see his mouth through the scraggly beard. “What happened?”
“Some fucking punks jumped us while we were trailing Tango,” Tim said. “Got feelers out to find ‘em, and we’ll fucking take care of them
.”
“Fuck yeah, we will,” Lincoln agreed, resting his butt on Steven’s desk as if he—Gullim Vex—hung out in fancy offices all the time. “So what happened with the buyer? How much money did we get?”
“We?” Steven said, glowering at Lincoln. “Get your dirty ass off my furniture, scrub.”
Lincoln stayed where he was for a minute before easing back into a standing position. He was quite a bit taller than the other two men, but he was used to that. “We were the ones who told you that part was worth something and extracted it for you without breaking it. So yeah. We. Right, Tim?”
They’d learned all about the timeline from questioning Vex with the help of the cats. How they’d convince Vex to forget his imprisonment, nobody knew, but until they got the power converter, that problem could simmer—alongside the problem of kidnapping Jenna Banu.
“Things change,” Tim said evasively.
“Anyway, we’re finding a new buyer,” Steven said. “That arrogant bitch from Selectstar flaked out on me and won’t answer calls.”
“But we had her followed,” Lincoln said. The plan was for Briar to contact Steven and reschedule the trade the minute Lincoln gave the green light. Would Steven cooperate or was he too mad? “What if she had other stuff to do?”
“On Trash Planet?” Steven leaned over Pumpkin’s crate like he wanted to look inside it—or kick it around. “Was she dropping off organic waste so it can be converted into ground car fuel? Don’t be an imbecile.”
“Maybe it made her mad that you had her followed,” Lincoln tried next. “Women get so, uh, fucking emotional.”
Tim snorted. “You wish they’d get emotional about you.”
Steven knocked the cat crate with his knuckles, and Pumpkin growled. “Ha. Like she didn’t expect that. She knows the game. The only things Selectstar cares about are money and workers.”
“You means slaves,” Lincoln said, noting the various expressions that crossed Tim’s face. “Humans like us.”