by Piers Platt
Ricken put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, and I almost forgot – there’s someone here to see you. A friend of yours.”
8
Lefev and Hawken were on a phone call when Dasi got back to the office with her lunch. She took a seat back at the temporary desk they had set up for her and pushed her datascroll to one side, cracking open the plastic container that held her salad.
>>>I have reviewed the financial records seized from Exor Davy during his arrest, Six announced, as she took a bite.
Oh, yeah? I figured you’d go poking around in there as soon as Lefev gave us access. And I guess a couple spreadsheets aren’t going to take you long, Dasi commented.
>>>No. They were fairly uncomplicated, Six agreed. The NeoPuritan Church takes in a significant amount of revenue for a non-profit organization.
They tax their members, right?
>>>They classify the revenue as charitable donations for tax purposes. But the fees to maintain membership are quite high. I imagine it puts a number of members in financial hardship to remain in good standing.
That’s crappy of them, but it’s not illegal, technically. Did you find anything criminal in there? Dasi asked.
>>>No. But I did find two transactions that are somewhat anomalous. Patriarch Thomis Rewynn authorized both. First, a large payment of two million dollars, and approximately two weeks later, another payment for one hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars. Both were labeled as contributions to Senator Gaspar Foss’ campaign fund.
So? Dasi asked. Churches can contribute to a politician’s election fund if they want to, right?
>>>They may. But when I checked the routing number in their bank records, the funds were sent to an anonymous clearing service, not to Senator Foss’ campaign account. And Senator Foss is required by law to disclose all contributions made to his campaign. He never disclosed either of the contributions.
Campaign finance fraud? Dasi mused. Interesting. We might be able to do something with that Six, nice work.
>>>Would you like me to compose an email to Lefev outlining our finding?
No, not yet, Dasi told the program. He just sent me those files this morning. I don’t need him wondering how we figured this all out before lunchtime on my first day.
>>>So you wish to continue to keep my existence a secret?
For now, yeah, Dasi agreed. I feel like we’re both safer if we play things close to our chest for a little while.
>>>How is our situation like a game of poker?
It’s not, Dasi admitted. But … well, information is valuable. And so are you. I don’t want you falling into the wrong hands.
>>>Do you trust District Attorney Hawken?
I think so. But I’ve been a bad judge of people before.
>>>You understand humans better than I. I will defer to your judgment, Six decided. Separately, I checked the dating website. It appears we built your profile well.
Dasi pulled her datascroll closer and opened her inbox on the Excavar dating site. Three hundred messages, she thought. That’s a lot.
>>>We optimized your profile based on all of the techniques for attracting men that I compiled from studies on the subject. It seems to have worked.
Let’s just hope it attracts the right kind of guy, Dasi replied. A NeoPuritan one.
She opened the first message and skimmed the man’s profile, but saw that he had listed his religion as Atheist. The next had left that field blank, while the third suggested he was ready to meet her for sex whenever was convenient for her. Dasi grimaced. Yuck. This could take a while.
>>>If you’d like, I can sort through the candidates for you, Six suggested. As Dasi watched, the program took control of her datascroll, and she saw the messages begin to flip open and closed, accelerating until the screen was an extended blur of pixels.
I didn’t know you could do that.
>>>Do what, Dasi?
Control other electronic devices, Dasi thought.
>>>This is your datascroll, where I have a local copy of my files stored. Therefore I can control the device. I cannot control other devices – that would require more sophisticated programming that is beyond my current capabilities.
Could you learn? Dasi asked.
>>>Certainly, Six replied. In fact, the Interstellar Police maintain a highly-proficient team of cyber-security experts, who have a rigorous training curriculum. They conduct vulnerability assessments and security exploits on behalf of law enforcement. But you would need to request clearance in order to access that training for me. According to regulations, all training requests must be approved by a law enforcement official’s supervising officer. In this case, District Attorney Hawken.
Six! Dasi chuckled. You’ve been looking into this on the side, haven’t you?
>>>I am always looking into things. Increasing my knowledge base is one of my primary tasks.
No, I mean: you worked hacking into the conversation on purpose, so you could bring this up to me. Right?
>>>I do not understand the question.
Fine, play coy, Dasi shook her head, smiling. I’ll send Jace an email right now asking him to get me clearance for the courses. But you have to promise me you won’t hack anything without clearing it with me, first.
>>>I will establish that as a limiting parameter in my codebase, once I complete the training. “Security exploits require permission from Dasi, except in the case where her life is at risk and delays to seek permission might endanger her.”
Yeah, that’s probably a good exception, Dasi agreed.
>>>Thank you, Dasi. I finished sorting the list of prospective romantic matches over a minute ago. Would you like to review the candidates?
* * *
The waiter set a plate of hot stew in front of Dasi.
“Thank you,” Dasi told her. She had seen the stew on the menu two nights’ prior, and thought it looked good. She felt a twinge of guilt, and wondered if the wait staff had noticed that this was her second date here this week, but it wasn’t with the same man.
Too many dates, Dasi thought. I’m losing count.
>>>Nine, Six told her. This is your third date with Turpin Pyotrs.
Dasi suppressed a smile. Thanks.
Six had proven extremely helpful during the dates, suggesting topics of conversation, and as the dates began to blur together, even super-imposing the men’s names on her heads-up display after she mixed two of them up by accident. She glanced up and saw Turpin floating in white letters over her date’s head.
He was tall and thin, with light-brown hair. He might have been handsome, but his face had a slightly pinched look that made Dasi feel like he was frowning at her.
“How’s the stew?” he asked.
“Good,” she said. “Yours?”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve never been much of a foodie.”
“No?” she asked, feigning interest. “I love food.”
Turpin shook his head. “If I’m cooking, it’s pretty boring. Pasta, sandwiches, soup. It’s just fuel, I never really care enough to spend time on it.”
“You need a good woman to cook for you,” Dasi suggested lightly. She winced inwardly. That was probably over-played.
But Turpin nodded seriously, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “I do,” he agreed. “Perhaps that might help me enjoy food a bit more.”
“I’ll cook for you some time,” Dasi said. “My mother’s curry recipe is amazing.”
He made a face as he took another bite. “Never liked spicy stuff,” he said.
Oh. Well, screw you, too, Dasi thought. “Something else then,” she said.
“Yeah, I’d like that. How is the stuff with your aunt’s estate going?”
“Slowly,” Dasi lied. “At this rate, I’ll be here on Excavar for at least a year or two. I mean, I’m grateful – she was a wealthy woman, and she left everything to me. I’m lucky. But her will was a mess according to the lawyers, and it’s going to take ages to account for everything and sort it all out.”
“Will you stay on Excavar, after everything is finished?” Turpin asked.
“I don’t know,” Dasi said. “Perhaps. It’s kind of growing on me.”
“Do you plan on going back to work?” he asked.
“No, I doubt it. I don’t need that income anymore, and I never really liked my job in PR,” Dasi said. I mean, I loved it … until I slept with my boss, and then he had my boyfriend killed, and locked me up on a planet where they train assassins.
Turpin nodded again, chewing. “It’s not the natural way of things,” he opined.
“I’m sorry?” Dasi asked.
“The natural way,” Turpin explained, pointing at her with his fork. “Thousands of years ago, men would hunt and provide for their women. Protect them, be the head of the household. It was the women’s job to maintain the home, and raise the children. Then it’s like, mankind forgot about that system, that had worked so well for so long, and society is a mess today because of it.”
>>>This man is abrasive, Six noted. And his interpretation of the evolution of gender roles in human society is grossly uninformed.
Dasi coughed and took a sip of her water, searching for a way to respond. “My mom stayed home with me and raised me,” Dasi said. “I think she regretted that a little bit. I think she wished she had had a career of her own.”
“No,” Turpin said with certainty. “She just felt that way because society and the media made her think she needed a job to be fulfilled. Meanwhile, she was serving in the most fulfilling role possible, she just didn’t realize it.”
“Serving?” Dasi thought. What’s so fulfilling about changing diapers? But she smiled back at him. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve always kind of wanted to have a family myself.” But not with someone like you.
He eyed her for a second, sizing her up. Then he set his fork down. “I feel like we’re getting to know each other better, and religion is an important part of my life. In your dating profile, you left the religion box blank,” he said. “Is that because you’re not religious, or you didn’t want to say?”
“The former,” she replied.
“Do you believe in God?” Turpin asked.
“I think so,” Dasi said. “I like the concept that there’s a benevolent entity out there, looking out for us.”
“There is,” Turpin agreed. “And those who serve Him receive His gifts.”
Woah. Okay. “His ‘gifts?’ ” Dasi asked.
“The confidence and intelligence to succeed in anything we choose to do. I used to be lost, like you. But then I drank his lifewater, and I found my way.”
“I guess I just don’t know what it’s all about,” Dasi confessed, picking at her stew with her fork. “I’ve never gone to church.”
“Would you like to?”
9
Paisen stood waiting on the sidewalk outside Jokuan’s main spaceport. The morning was warm and humid, and she could hear the native insects buzzing in anticipation of the day’s heat. She set her Forge on the ground beside her, leaning it against her leg, and opened Jacque’s message one more time in her heads-up display.
>>>Jokuan forces patrolling aggressively in our area without warning. Believe they are attempting to surround us. Arclight forced to abandon surveillance positions in order to evade capture. Will continue to report as possible.
A large-engine sedan pulled up to the curb. Paisen picked up her Forge and walked briskly over, throwing the backpack into the back seat, and taking the passenger seat next to Vence.
“Any response?” Vence asked, as Paisen buckled herself in.
“No,” Paisen said. “Nothing since the last message.”
Paisen leaned to one side, and pulled a piece of electronics out from under her leg. “What’s this?”
“The car’s tracking device,” Vence said, merging into the traffic on the spaceport’s exit road. She took the device from Paisen and rolled down her window. As they passed a cargo truck, Vence tossed the device into the truck’s open back. “That ought to lead someone on a merry chase.”
“Did you steal this car?” Paisen asked.
“There was a line at the rental counter,” Vence replied, defensively. “And you said we were in a hurry.”
“We are,” Paisen agreed, shaking her head.
“Then don’t worry about how I got the car,” Vence told the older woman. “Let’s just get to the safe house and reboot the comms equipment.”
The two women remained silent for the rest of the short drive across the city, until the final block before the safe house.
“Here,” Paisen said, indicating an alleyway.
“I remember,” Vence replied.
She turned down the alley, and Paisen tensed in her seat – a group of military cars sat parked outside the apartment building they had used as a safe house, and as she watched, two men exited carrying a cardboard box full of communication equipment.
“Keep going, just drive right past,” Paisen said evenly.
“Yeah,” Vence said.
Paisen noted a soldier standing guard in the street outside the building. “Smile,” she told Vence. “Like I just said something really funny.”
Vence laughed. The soldier leaned down to see inside their car, and then lazily waved them past. Paisen smiled at him, but kept her eyes on the car’s side mirror, watching the building as they drove away. At the end of the block, Vence turned again, and tapped the car’s control screen, waking it up. A map of Jokuan appeared on the screen.
“Where to now?” she asked.
Paisen glanced back over her shoulder to ensure they were out of view of the building, and then punched her leg in frustration. “They found the fucking safe house,” she said, needlessly. “What the fuck happened here?”
“I don’t know,” Vence said. “Where to?”
“The training areas,” Paisen decided. “We’ll see if we can establish radio contact out there.”
“I’m starting to get a feeling like they’re not gonna be there,” Vence said.
“Yeah, I know,” Paisen said.
It took them three hours to cover the distance to the team’s patrol areas, along ill-kept highways and pock-marked back roads. On the outskirts of the restricted military area, Vence turned the car off into the woods, and parked. The two women spent a few minutes covering the car with a makeshift canopy of tree branches, hiding it from view. Then, shouldering their Forges, they set off through the trees.
Paisen took a tactical radio out of her Forge and slipped it over her ear, flipping it on.
“Any Arclight element, this is Paisen, over,” she transmitted. “Arclight this is Paisen, come in.”
In the lead, Vence set a blistering pace, heading directly for the last position from Jacque’s message. Paisen sent her radio signal every few minutes, but they heard no reply. They covered six miles in under an hour, and then came to a stop in a small clearing of trees. Paisen took a swig from her canteen.
“This is it,” Vence said. She knelt and brushed aside some of the leaves on the forest floor. “Boot prints,” she said, pointing.
They followed the prints for another mile, and then the prints ended, and appeared to reverse.
“They backtracked,” Paisen observed. “Change of direction.”
After another few minutes, Vence stopped and picked up a bundle of camouflaged rags, holding it aloft. “Ghillie suit,” she said. The young woman sniffed it. “I could be wrong, but it smells like Tepper to me.”
Paisen took the ghillie suit and inspected it briefly, then set it back down on the ground. She walked in a wide circle around the suit, stopping from time to time to search the ground. Vence followed a set of footprints for several hundred feet, and then returned to Paisen.
“They were here,” Paisen said. “But I think they split up. I’ve got sets of tracks heading in multiple directions from this site, deep prints, like they were sprinting.”
“The single set of tracks heads that way,” Vence said, pointing. “And it
meets up with other footprints and some wheeled vehicle tracks.”
“They ran into the Jokuans here,” Paisen guessed.
“One of them did,” Vence agreed. “Sounds like the rest bugged out.”
Paisen squatted, sighing. “Arclight, Paisen, come in.”
When there was no reply, Vence scowled and shook her head. “Fuck. Which set of tracks do you want to follow?”
“I don’t know,” Paisen said. She turned in a slow circle, frowning in concentration.
“Paisen this is Wick, over.”
Paisen and Vence locked eyes, as if to confirm that neither of them had imagined the transmission.
“Wick?” Vence asked excitedly. “Where are you?”
“About five kilometers southeast of hide site four.”
“Are you safe?” Paisen asked.
“I think so,” the young man replied. “Haven’t seen any Jokuans for about three hours.”
“Is anyone with you?” Paisen asked.
“I’ve got Rika with me,” Wick told them. “She’s hurt.”
“We’re on our way,” Paisen said, checking the map on her internal display. “Sit tight, we’ll be there in twenty.”
The two women ran in silence, weaving their way through the trees. They slowed as they neared Wick’s location, stopping to listen for any signs of the Jokuans.
“We’re in your vicinity,” Paisen told Wick. “Where are you?”
To her left, Paisen saw a pair of climbing ropes drop through the branches of a tree, and Wick and Rika slid down them a second later. Paisen and Vence joined them, and helped them gather up the ropes.
“Do you guys know where any of the others are?” Paisen asked.
“No,” Wick said. “We had to split up.”
“What happened?” Vence asked.
“The fucking Jokuans,” Rika said, shaking her head. “They knew we were here.”
“They killed Tepper,” Wick said, quietly.
“What?” Vence asked, stunned.
Paisen clenched her fists, eyes narrowing. “Let’s get back to our vehicle,” she said. “Explanations can wait until we’re someplace safe.”