by Kate Kyle
The vent, as it had been for generations, was covered with a grill, which he could easily displace once he reached it. And he should be able to reach it if he stood on top of the charging station.
He fastened the light on his head and tightened the shoulder straps of his backpack.
This will be just the way you've done it so many times in the simulator…
He climbed the tower, securing his fine balance with his hands placed firmly on the wall and ceiling.
This was one of those rare occasions when being tall conferred a distinct advantage.
After a wobble and a lean to the right, he grabbed the cover of the vent and pushed it gently up and to the side as quickly as he could.
Success.
The narrow duct that ran along all the offices in this part of the building stood open.
Rutger pulled himself up and climbed in.
It was uncomfortably small, with barely enough room for him to move along on his elbows, and fortunately, less dusty than the training tunnel back on Earth.
It looked as though the Si-Carb had made the right decision for going with their own idea of a cleaning and maintenance systems.
He turned off the flashlight and pulled himself closer to a blob of light a couple of meters to his left – the next grid. Just close enough to see through the closest row down.
This was his lucky day!
From where the vent was positioned, he could see not only the only desk in the room, where Lulu Zhou was sitting, but also the screen of the terminal she was using.
If he believed in fate, he'd think the Gods were compensating him for the last few years of bad luck.
He pushed back the urge to squeal with joy and strained his eyes to see the screen, which was filled with data and text. Lulu wasn't using read-aloud function or other fancy reading-experience-enhancers.
It must have been an old file, a very old document, or something packed in a minimal, no-frills file for a purpose.
He couldn't read much, it was too far, but…
He carefully pulled the tablet from his pocket and positioned it as close to the grid as he could and took a photo.
Lulu swiped the screen and a familiar image of a girl holding a red balloon appeared.
Rutger's heart flipped.
He pushed his elbows firmer into the floor of the duct, took another photo of the room below, and then a few more to make sure the screenshot captured a sharp view of what Lulu was reading.
A minute later, Lulu's screen filled with text again, with a small 3D rendition of a floor plan of something in the bottom right corner.
Another snapshot.
Rutger's head was humming with adrenaline and ideas. He forced himself to breath steadily and quietly. Thank goodness for the perfect cleaning system. The lack of dust meant a reduced risk of an urge to sneeze or cough. He definitely didn't want to end up being discovered, or of having to scramble out of the duct.
Finally, after what felt like the eternity of a re-screen of a rejected payment card in a drive-thru takeout in a dodgy suburb, Lulu shut off the screen. She got up and pulled a small fob out of the box by the terminal.
So, she'd been reading data stored on an independent device! It must have meant that Jax's device couldn't read it.
An old file, or a very secure one. But in any case, a file of great interest to Rutger and to all Seekers.
Once the door closed behind Lulu, Rutger closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax.
This was not only his lucky day - it must have been the luckiest day of his new, generally fucked-up life.
His gut feeling was right again, and he scored big.
Or almost scored big. Lulu Zhou, aka Quinshan Li, was a suspicious person from the beginning. An AI specialist posing as an insect specialist and disappearing from her post… turns up on an urgent flight to Rebels' Republic…
Ha.
He was not in the least bit surprised to see Lulu accessing secret information, whoever's side she was on. Hopefully, he'd be able to find out more once he'd checked the photos.
But most importantly, to his mission… to his other mission, he'd just discovered something that might confirm Seeker's suspicions that the Red Balloon mystery was linked to new China's classified operations.
Might. Or might not.
He needed to check it out. And then, he had to locate Lulu Zhou and ask her a few questions.
12
Jax
Jax walked out of the department as fast as she could.
Her legs still felt a little numb from the anesthetic and her insides might have been sorer than she would admit even to herself, but she wanted out.
Out, out and away.
And it wasn't so much the cost of staying until she'd fully recovered. The bot at the reception showed her the full breakdown of the procedure and, indeed, the comfy bed and a meal were a small proportion of the price.
No.
It wasn't even the prospect of spending a couple of hours in a perfectly clean and white room, with the monitors attached to her body and the entertainment screen and the call bell at her disposal.
It was the fact that she'd have to lie there, unable to escape not the bed, but her own head, the emptiness of her head and her feelings.
Of her life.
She had to get busy. Busy with another mission. And she had an important one to complete first - to find her device.
To find goddamned Lulu Zhou and pry the device out of her delicate hands.
And to get paid.
And to get back to Earth.
Or to find another job quickly. Another mission. Another goal to pretend she wasn't drifting.
A whole twenty-five years of drifting.
No, less. After all, the early childhood didn't count. And after childhood, she'd been busy trying to gain her mother's acceptance, but… Jax wasn't a boy her mother wanted. She was just another girl. One girl too many in their perfect suburban house.
So Jax moved out as soon as she could, finding schools as far away from the family home as possible, yet still within the PanAm Confederation. Even though the Australia-based pilot academy wasn't particularly famous for providing quality training, it gave their students the basics and the most important credentials. On the job learning was best way.
Like this one.
Only trouble was, the emergency event had proven to be a non-event. Strange but not threatening enough to focus on. So, frankly speaking, Jax was not further ahead in her considerations what to do with her empty, meaningless life than she had been at the beginning of the mission.
Having said that, she still had ten years to decide. Ten Standard Earth years, because that was how long her contract with Si-Carb lasted.
Ten years to find a meaning, before she could even decide if she wanted to be a mother. Because one thing was certain, Jax McCarthy would not have a child simply to give her life purpose. She would not repeat her pathetic mother's recipe for life – having children so that she could feel fulfilled as a person... She had even specified in her contract – that before she was able to continue with the pregnancy, she would need to provide the rationale for her decision to become a mother, under a lie detector. This was part of the typical PanAm baby license application process. Technically speaking, Si-Carb being a Rebels' Republic entity, could complete the procedure without this condition being met, but Jax, a victim to childhood neglect, despite the process being followed, believed in the importance of the vetting. She would do whatever she could to make sure that her baby didn't have to endure the same loveless childhood she had suffered.
She didn't want to repeat the mistake.
Jax shivered and stepped out onto the certainly-fake-marble steps of the clinic, hoping to be hit by a hot sunlight, but to her disappointment the brightness that made her squint carried no warmth.
Artificial light, of course!
Disappointed, she shrugged and slowly descended the steps.
She descended too deep into her thoughts,
which transported her all the way back to a steaming hot Alabama.
She headed for the train station. She had nowhere to go, except for the ship, which was still under her command and still unpaid. With empty pockets, a debt to pay and no friends or family to call upon for help.
No.
Jax McCarthy made no friends. She trusted no one, and long ago, she swore not to rely on anyone but herself. Which was why she'd have to pay Nicky the money back and find her device.
Jax dropped into one of the padded seats in the terminal and stared at the empty monorail tunnel. The board above her showed that a capsule would arrive in seven minutes, heading towards the centrum. Although a bit of a trek around the station before she reached the airport, she had plenty of time.
She was keen to get back to her ship to check if the local authorities had found Lulu. Although, her hunch was telling her, they probably hadn't. Lulu seemed too cunning to let herself be found before she'd completed her mission —whatever that happened to be.
On top of that, Jax always believed that if she wanted a job done, she had to do it herself.
She had been let down by so many people early in her life, she'd learnt to rely only on herself and trust no one. Trust was an option, but never the only one, and always with a backup plan or two, just in case. Hence her nickname in AdAstra–SandCat: a small feline loner, living in sandy and stony deserts, managing to survive in harsh environment with very limited resources.
She'd live up to her nickname. She'd use whatever little resources she had available to to find Lulu her own way. And since she didn't have the skills to find a person, let alone in a foreign place, she'd have to ask for help in exchange for a payment: clean, mutually beneficial transaction. No strings attached, not much trust involved.
Actually, starting with AdAstra sounded like a good idea. The players were known for having a variety of skills and connections. The game itself was apparently hosted on Rebels' owned servers–safe space for a shady operation. Her current location itself seemed a blessing in disguise. Without the game credentials on her (curse you, Lulu!), she had to find a café with a direct access. That should not be a problem in Segedunum.
AdAstra it was then. She'd log in, ask her question and get out. That shouldn't take long.
She scanned the platform. In the far corner of the platform, she noticed a public NetBooth. She climbed to her feet and slowly, painfully crossed to the booth. Her body was taking its time to recover.
A moment later she was looking at a list of the local gaming places. The top result seemed so incredible she ran the search again.
Rainbow's End Café.
A legendary place, she long thought to exist only virtually in the game, but a quick look at the name of the person running the café and an address that seemed real, confirmed its existence.
Even if it was some sort of a nerdy joke, it was worth investigating.
Location: Central Square. Station: Central Square. Next capsule arriving: three minutes.
Perfect!
Jax boarded the capsule as it arrived, perfectly on time, and it whisked her to her destination in no time.
She found the cafe tucked between an office block and a long building with a colonnade.
The inside was dark, lit only by the faint, bluish-green glow of a few active screens a yellowy spotlight above a bar the occupied a space a few steps away from the entrance.
"Welcome to Rainbow's End," a hoarse voice with a forced Irish accent greeted her from her left.
She turned to see the owner and was not disappointed to find a short man with a mop of ginger hair and a long beard - just like his online avatar, and all the old images of his namesake.
"Hey, Leprechaun," Jax said. "So, this place is real?"
"Very much so," the man replied, eyeing her from top to toe. "I don't recognize you in your earthly shell. Who are you?"
"SandCat," Jax's voice came out a little more uncertain that she wanted it to. "And Jax in real life."
"Ah." Leprechaun's eyes opened wide. "I didn't realize you were heading our way."
"Unexpected job."
The man's deep green eyes, either courtesy of contact lenses or some fancy iris dye, narrowed.
"Even with unexpected trips, the first thing most gamers do, they log in to tell us…." His voice trailed off.
"Maybe I'm not your usual gamer," Jax said and grinned. She would have said 'None of your business', but she needed his help now. "Still, I love the game."
The bearded man stepped back, towards the bar behind him.
"You're certainly a keen player, SandCat," he said slowly. "I do recall you from the game," he added. "You come to play, or do you need my help for something else?" His voice hung in the air again on a note suggesting he might have meant more than simply asking for directions or for a glass of water.
Jax remember Leprechaun from AdAstra, too. She'd never quite grasped his role: a bit of a clown, a stirrer, with a strange ability to turn up alongside various quests, but never quite joining any of them. Not that she herself had participated in many team-based activities, despite multiple invitations.
"A quick game, if possible, without the credentials. I… I don't have them on me."
Leprechaun made a broad gesture, pointing towards a row of gaming stations.
"The newest technology, including the comp-brain interface and a transcranial voice transmission at your service, as long as you remember your login. Since the access to the server is direct, we don't require any other validation, apart from the bioscans. The system will recognize you from the originally submitted data," he said. "Or you can always ask me," he added quietly, staring hard at her.
"I'll log in," she replied quickly.
The man made her skin crawl.
He nodded.
"A warning though," he said, still looking her straight in the eyes. He hadn't even blinked once. Maybe Leprechaun wasn't even human? "The main network is glitchy today. They've issued a suspected virus message, so please don't touch anything other than clearly named game elements. And particularly, don't tap on an image of a girl with a red balloon."
Ah yeah, the girl…
"Sure, boss. Where can I play?" Jax asked, growing anxious and impatient.
He led her to the nearest available station. Fortunately, he stepped aside and let her get on with the process without interruption.
Jax would swear she could feel Leprechaun's gaze on her back as she logged into the game. But she tried to ignore the sensation.
She had a plan for what to do once in the game.
She navigated straight to the notice board, where the ads were handled. Usually those included team members sought for specific quests, alongside real life meet-ups with an occasional (illegal) attempt to buy or sell a piece of equipment.
With her heart hammering and her hands trembling, Jax typed her message, marking it with 'IRL' - over a century old shorthand for 'in real life'.
"Need to find a missing person in Segedunum."
She posted the notice and scrolled through the other postings to kill time.
A few moments later, her screen flashed up a reply.
"Depends on who you're looking for. All residents are tagged." SingMa, the name icon next to the reply lit green - a sign that the person was online.
Jax tapped on the icon and a private conversation channel opened.
"Not a resident," she typed.
The reply came almost immediately.
"Guessed so. Hi, SandCat. Who are you after and how much are you offering?"
Jax's jaw tensed.
"I thought you, RR, no longer dealt in money," she replied.
"I may be a non-RR."
"Are you?"
"No, I am an RR resident. And the payment may come in a different form. Who are you after and what do you offer in exchange?" SingMa replied.
Jax hesitated. She probably should clear the payment issue first.
"The person I'm after has stolen my money and my game crede
ntials, so I can't pay until I find her."
"That's nasty. I see on your avatar info that you're an interplanetary pilot. Are you willing to offer your skills on a quest?"
She'd rather not, but if that was what it took to get help, she'd have to accede.
"Planning a flying quest?" she asked.
"Eh… maybe. Or… maybe not."
Jax exhaled loudly. She had no time for silly games.
"Sorry, mate, but serious offers only."
"That's great, sis, because I may have a serious job, but this would be an informal job, if you catch my drift."
Was this how semi-legal stuff was organized? In her almost picture-perfect suburban life (if she'd ignore the emotional neglect), Jax had had no exposure to gray areas and the underbelly of the solar system. Her classmates at the pilot’s academy were the ones more interested in collecting the points needed to get the license and enjoying the ‘beach life', as they called it, in between.
"Is this legal?" she asked.
"Not illegal."
Gray area… Ghhrr…
"You need to tell me what this is first," she fired off.
"No, you tell me who you're after first, so we can see if the price and tasks are matching."
He had a point.
"Is this a secure connection?"
"Can't get more secure than here. Double encrypted. Plus, nobody really cares as long as it doesn't break the game's rules. Looking for someone is not illegal in RR."
Was this enough?
Did she have a choice? After all, she just wanted to find her stolen tablet. She was not inciting anyone to violence or anything else illegal.
"Lulu Zhou, aka Quinshan Li," she added, remembering Rutger's revelations. "A New China citizen on a short visit here."
She hit send and watched the dot at the end of her sentence pulsate.
The screen stood still. Just showing the deep bluish-green background with silvery dots, scattered in the background like stars.
Jax's heart jumped into the highest gear. Had she been ghosted, or did the system glitched again?