It was a ridiculous amount of money, but I wasn’t in a position to bargain. I brought up my communication menu and sent a message to myself. It caused my avatar to look distant, as if I was communicating with an actual client. “Deal,” I agreed a few minutes later. “Client insists on half up front, half after you deliver.”
Nadia shook her head. “Your client must be stupid or desperate.”
“Who says they can’t be both?” I asked with a smile. “Do we have an agreement?”
“We will when I see some credits.”
I pulled up my menu and transferred five thousand credits to her account. My own account was funded from untraceable currency, preventing anyone from following a paper trail back to my real identity.
Nadia waited until the transfer was completed, then she said, “The rumor is that the Silva Syndicate was paid to knock off Ferdinand, but either the hit payment didn’t go through or they got greedy and grabbed him instead. There was a sketchy rumor about a ransom, but the Syndicate is too smart to take on a High House directly. If I had to guess, they’re planning to break him for information, or bury him in the deepest hole they can find.”
I froze and let the rage burn through my system. When I was sure I could keep my voice neutral, I asked, “How reliable are these rumors?”
“Silva was definitely responsible. The rest is merely speculation. They are playing this one very close and it’s only thanks to a few well-connected friends that I know as much as I do.”
“Do any of these friends have a line on where I might find one of the Syndicate’s ships? Or one of the Silvas?”
Nadia frowned at me. “You are walking a dangerous road, my friend. I hope you know what you are doing.”
“So do I.”
She inclined her head. “I might know someone who knows something, but that information will be very expensive.”
“My client is aware that such information is valuable,” I said. To underscore the point, I sent her the second half of her payment.
“I will ask around. If I hear anything, I’ll be in touch.”
“A pleasure, as always. Stay safe,” I said.
“You as well.”
I raised my hand in farewell, then transported out to a location just off the main street. I checked my security settings, then ran an additional scan to ensure Nadia hadn’t bugged me. Everything came back clean.
I logged out, just to be extra safe, then logged in with the same account. As long as I was here, I needed to check my virtual safe house and ask my contacts there for information, too. Some of them had dealt with Silva in the past.
“HIVE, transport home,” I said.
“Transporting to saved location 192z.168b7.1h4m.”
Much like Nadia’s bar and home, my home was not on the standard HIVE map. I loaded into a completely black space, and any attempt at shedding light would fail. This was the first level of protection.
“I am Fenix. I rose from the ashes. Allow me to enter and find comfort,” I said. The passphrase was specific to me and coded to my avatar’s voice and cadence.
A silver door appeared. I tapped out my entry pattern, and the scene changed to a cozy living room with a wall of books and soft, plush furniture. Windows looked out into a green forest, with sunbeams dancing through the leaves. It was meant to be as comforting as possible because this was a digital safe space, both for the people I’d already rescued and for those who had decided to stay where they were and support others with shared information.
This network wasn’t nearly as broad as my anonymous contacts, but each person in it was fully vetted and trusted, and many of them held important positions. For some, it was too dangerous to send messages even to anonymous accounts, so we left “physical” messages on a note board. I quickly checked the existing messages but none pertained to the attack and none required my immediate attention.
I reached out and grabbed an empty notecard. A voice prompt came up, and I said, “Ferdinand has reportedly been taken by Silva. I need any information you can find about the attack or the Syndicate. Time is of the essence.”
My words were transcribed onto the card. You could write in HIVE, but it was slow and messy, so most written text was actually dictated. I added a large red exclamation mark and tacked the note to the board. It wasn’t the fastest communication method, but eventually everyone would see it.
I’d done as much as I could, so I logged out of HIVE. The projectors in the room turned off and the lights slowly brightened back to normal.
I sat down and rubbed my forehead. If Nadia’s information was correct, then the Syndicate had my brother. I agreed that they wouldn’t try to ransom him, which explained why no one had been in contact. And it meant I had a very narrow slice of time to rescue him before they broke him in a way that couldn’t be fixed.
With that in mind, I reconnected my secure Internet connection and started looking for information on any of the Silva ships. Because they were all in constant contact, I just needed to find one of them, it didn’t matter which. I’d love to find the one with Ferdinand aboard, but the possibility was too small to count on.
I lost track of time until the suite computer broke my concentration. A short, sharp chime sounded three times before falling silent. Because my com was cut off from wireless communication and my terminal was connected to a private network, important messages were routed through my suite computer. I’d just received three emergency messages.
I disconnected from my fruitless search for the Syndicate and reconnected to the House network. The messages were from my siblings, addressed to me directly, and flagged as emergency. That was never a good sign.
The first two, from Hannah and Catarina, urged me to check the news as soon as possible. But it was the third message, from Benedict, that chilled me. He’d kept it short and sweet: Father plans to put you under house confinement. If you want to flee, go now.
Chapter 6
I paused just long enough to check the news, then ran for my closet. Someone had done a remarkably good job of painting me as a traitor, one who worked with House Rockhurst to betray Ferdinand and House von Hasenberg.
Even if Father didn’t believe the story—and I hoped he wouldn’t—he would be furious about my meeting with Evelyn Rockhurst. And despite my preference for electronic sleuthing, eventually I’d run into a lead I’d need to track down the old-fashioned way. I couldn’t find Ferdinand if I was locked in my suite.
My hands shook as I stood frozen in my closet. I didn’t have time for a breakdown. I shoved a change of clothes and a pair of blasters in a protective case into a tote. I strapped a stun pistol in a holster around my waist and threw on a cloak over my blouse and pants. Finally, I added my purse with the silencer still inside to the tote.
Good enough.
I headed for the door, but it did not open on my approach and the manual open button did nothing. “Alfred, open the suite door.”
After a few seconds, the suite computer responded. “Request unavailable. Your suite is locked for your safety. Please remain where you are.” The computer didn’t have emotions, but I still thought it sounded contrite.
If Ian Bishop thought I’d remain locked in my own damn suite until he could be bothered to come collect me for Father, then he was about to get a rude awakening.
I darted into my study for a pair of smart glasses. They connected to my com and displayed information hands-free. These were a high-end version that featured both hand and eye tracking, allowing me to leave my com in my pocket but still interact with it.
The glasses turned on automatically when I put them on. The standard information overlay—time, location, calendar—came up in my peripheral vision, but I swiped my hands up and the menu appeared front and center.
With no time to waste, I tapped into the House’s security system and checked on the cameras outside my suite. The video came up on the bottom half of the glasses. So far, the hallway was clear, but that would change once I overrode the lock. I’d
need to move fast, because while I could take down the whole system, doing that while we were at war was unwise.
First and foremost, I needed a ship. I briefly considered stealing Polaris, the Rockhurst prototype ship, but I didn’t know if it was still space-worthy. For all I knew, the scientists had it in pieces in the hangar. And Ada would kill me if I damaged her baby. She’d grown attached to that ship.
My own ship, Aurora, was less than a year old. I’d bought it after Gregory’s death. His family had kept my previous ship when I returned to House von Hasenberg. What’s mine was his and what’s his was his.
House marriages were the best.
Luckily, I’d kept the vast majority of my money in numbered accounts he couldn’t access or I’d be broke in addition to homeless and shipless.
I shook myself out of my angry thoughts. Aurora was one of the nicest personal ships in our fleet. I could probably find and steal Ferdinand’s ship if I had to, but I wanted Aurora—Ada wasn’t the only one attached to her ship.
My ship was in the secondary House hangar. To get to it, I’d have to travel the length of the House, then either skirt around the primary hangar or go through it. The secondary hangar should be less busy, but getting there undetected would be tricky.
Stalling wouldn’t make it any easier, so I put the cameras outside my door on a two-minute loop, then unlocked my suite. I raised the hood of my cloak and took a deep breath. Leaving would make me look guilty as hell, but I couldn’t just sit around and wait for Ferdinand to turn up dead. Holding that thought close, I stepped out into the hall and locked the door behind me.
For once, my modified nanos came in handy as I monitored the security frequency. A security team was headed my way, but they were still thirty seconds out. I ducked into a dimly lit hidden passage with ten seconds to spare. Adrenaline made me shaky, but I kept moving.
Ian would probably be monitoring these passageways, but the surveillance was spottier and I knew exactly where all of the cameras were and how to avoid them. Ian had been advocating for additional security for these tunnels for years, but Father had resisted. We all assumed that he, too, wanted to be able to slip out of the House unseen.
I pulled the bottom of my cloak up and carefully stepped over the first laser tripwire. Breaking the beam would send a security alert directly to Ian. At the next intersection, I edged along the inside corner, just out of view of the camera. Avoiding security meant I took a meandering route to the hangar.
I kept one eye on the security footage on my smart glasses while also monitoring wireless communications. Because I hadn’t answered the door, the security team was debating whether or not to breach my quarters without my permission.
By the time Ian gave the order, I was nearly to the primary hangar. There was a flurry of communication as the team found they couldn’t get my door to unlock. Ian’s voice took on an annoyed tone that made me smirk, but I couldn’t gloat yet. He wasn’t the head of security for nothing, and I still had a busy hangar to cross.
My com vibrated and Ian’s contact information popped up on the glasses. He was requesting a video connection. I rolled my eyes and swiped his contact information offscreen to decline.
Unfortunately, Ian was nothing if not persistent. He tried again with a voice-only connection. I swiped that one away, too, then blocked him for five minutes. He’d try to track me with my com signal, but I’d made a few modifications that would make that more difficult. It wouldn’t fool him for long, but I just needed a few more minutes.
I performed the complicated hand gesture that activated the highly illegal secondary identity chip in my right arm. The secondary chip was a von Hasenberg specialty, allowing multiple identities to be stored on a single chip. Specific identities could be selected by a series of finger movements. It was perfect for covert work because switching identities made a trail much harder to follow. And it was untraceable—even by our own security teams.
As far as I knew, only von Hasenberg family members had these exact chips, but I would be surprised if the other Houses didn’t have something similar.
I touched my right thumb and pinky together. The primary chip in my left arm held my real identity, but scanning into the hangar as myself would let Ian know exactly where I was. Scanning in as Isabella Blanc, a high-level House von Hasenberg advisor, wouldn’t set off any alarms. At least not right away. As soon as Ian did any digging, the identity would fold, but it wasn’t meant for long-term use.
I stopped at the end of the hidden passageway. Opening the final door required a House von Hasenberg ID, complete with House seal, but it was one of the few doors that didn’t log access unless it was opened without the proper credentials. It also didn’t open from the outside, so once I left the building, I’d be stuck.
I unlocked the door with my primary identity chip and stepped out into the hidden alcove. I’d be completely exposed in the hangar, but the diplomatic seal on my false identity meant the security guard wouldn’t look too closely at me. It wasn’t unusual for a cloaked figure to be seen coming and going from the hangar—not everyone wanted to shout that they were working with one House over another.
Now I just needed to pop back up on the video surveillance somewhere that wouldn’t be too suspicious. I took a twisting path to the hangar entrance. It looked like I couldn’t make up my mind which way I wanted to go, but really it was to skirt the cameras. I came back into view as I swiped my right arm over the chip reader.
The door opened and the guard inside waved me through with a brief glance. I didn’t envy him the dressing-down he was about to receive. I advanced through the building with a purposeful stride, moving as fast as I dared. A few other people were milling around, giving me a tiny bit of cover.
I hit the exit at the same time that the security team found my suite empty. My head throbbed with splinters of agony as I tried to keep track of the security frequency while filtering out everything else. I gritted my teeth and kept going.
I made it into the secondary hangar without anyone stopping me, but Ian had ordered my ship watched. I stopped in an alcove out of sight of the main landing bay and tapped into the security system.
The video showed Aurora was in the first berth. Four men in House von Hasenberg uniforms lingered near the ship’s cargo ramp. They weren’t even trying to be inconspicuous.
I set off a fire alarm in the storage area on the far side of the hangar. The guards in the video looked at one another. Come on, come on. Finally, three of them shrugged and ambled off toward the back of the hangar while the fourth reported it.
I drew the shock pistol from the holster. It had been years since I’d actually needed to shoot someone. I hoped that muscle memory would be enough or this escape would be going nowhere fast.
I was already in motion by the time Ian’s voice ordered the men back to their posts. I ran silently toward Aurora. The sole remaining guard stood next to the cargo ramp, facing away, toward the alarm. The other guards had not reappeared.
I said a prayer of thanks for small favors, then waited until I was close enough that I couldn’t miss. I shot the guard in the back with a silent apology.
He screamed as he fell, but I was already climbing the cargo ramp. I swiped my real identity chip over the control panel and the cargo door slid upward. The other guards shouted a question, but they would be too late.
Once the door was high enough, I ducked inside. “Aurora, how many people are onboard?”
“You are the only passenger, Captain,” the ship replied.
“That’s what I like to hear,” I murmured. I used the cargo bay control panel to close and lock the door and retract the ramp. “Aurora, take us into orbit.” The ship chimed, and I felt the subtle vibration of the engines engaging.
I had to get off the ground before Ian locked the hangar doors or denied me launch clearance. I would worry about a destination once I was free of the building.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough.
“Permission to launc
h denied,” Aurora said. “Ground control requests an immediate shutdown.”
“Emergency override code F8H07Z4.” It was Ferdinand’s personal override code. If they hadn’t locked it down, it would have priority access to nearly any von Hasenberg system.
I held my breath until the ship said, “Override approved.” The engine noise changed as the ship launched.
My com vibrated and Ian’s info reappeared on my glasses. The five-minute block had expired. I confirmed Aurora was on course for orbit, then accepted the video link as voice-only on my side—I could see him, but he couldn’t see me.
If I’d thought I’d seen Ian at his angriest before my meeting with Evelyn, I’d been dead wrong. I’d never seen him as furious as he was right now. His face was set in lines of granite and his eyes blazed with temper. His jaw was clenched so hard I was afraid he’d break his teeth.
It seemingly took him a force of will to open his mouth. “Lady Bianca, return to the ground. Now,” he gritted out.
“No.”
“Every resource I have to waste tracking you is a resource that’s not looking for Lord Ferdinand. Is that what you want? Your brother to die because you’re being stubborn?”
Adrenaline and fear and anxiety mixed into a potent tempest that pounded through my system. “My brothers and sisters are everything to me,” I argued, deeply insulted. I pressed my lips together to prevent an angry tirade from spilling out.
There were so many things I could add: how Ferdinand used to take my punishments when I was sick or injured, all the way back to the faint edge of my earliest memories; how Hannah had shown up after Gregory’s death and bundled me home without a single question, despite the righteous fury in her eyes at my weak condition; how my siblings were the only people in the ’verse who loved me for me.
I would personally storm the gates of hell for any of my brothers or sisters. To claim otherwise was to fundamentally misunderstand me as a person.
Realization dawned. Ian was far too clever to make such a mistake; he was trying to use my love for Ferdinand against me. It would be so easy to underestimate Ian Bishop, to be blinded by his gorgeous features and miss the intelligent, patient predator lurking beneath the surface.
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