by V Guy
“How much influence can you maintain?”
He let his mouth linger over a bite. “Another data packet has been released, and Kroes has retrieved it. I’ve started with basic suggestions.”
“And?”
“The idea’s foundation is solid.”
“She could involuntarily change her mind.”
Malik’s stress eased momentarily. “Until I can motivate her otherwise. It’s a slow process. I’m creating possibilities from nothing.”
Evelyn waited quietly while he started another meal. “Hold three’s new systems are solid.”
Another period of silence followed. “Who interviewed you today?” she asked.
“Investigators from the capital. We meet all over Silas; our talks have become tedious.”
“It’s interesting,” said Liola. “You’re technically a criminal.”
Malik shrugged. “They trust me, I think, but they aren’t allowed to do so. They come to me, both attracted and repulsed. The things I say expose their failures yet offer them redemption. My words hold no inherent value, yet they depend upon them to establish cases. I spend all day giving people, who are aware of my travesties, more evidence to substantiate my crimes. They doubt me, they fear me, and they admire me. It’s wearing.”
“And then you come back to this.”
“This is bearable.” He rose from his meal, cleared the mess, and headed for the simulator. “Have the commandos see me after midnight.”
Helen and the five men were ready with armor and packs when the evening’s last initiates left his council. The Rumbler occupied the aft portion of the entry passage. The rear storage area was open.
“We’re on Bedele’s night side,” said Malik, approaching. “Have you chosen targets?”
Helen stepped forward. “Borislav and I will go to Hardshell. We’ll travel with Bomani and Makaha when they go to Artenina, take the craft to our relatively close destination, then send it home.”
“And you?” Malik asked Arturo.
“Ginthe Enterprises. They have a major warehouse located on its own. It will require an extended evaluation.”
Malik nodded. “All of these facilities have night shifts. Make ready and stay alert.”
Arturo, Bomani, and Malik stepped aside to watch the others board the hovercraft and depart. After their exit, the empty passage brightened.
“I believe I have an option for your exit strategy, Arturo,” said Malik.
The men looked at him in surprise.
“Training these women sufficiently for discharge may be impossible within an acceptable time frame. You have shown interest in restoring old properties; how about restoring an old hotel or estate and using it as a halfway house? I could provide the necessary financing or just offer it as a gift.”
Arturo’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I was just about to say…”
His surprise brought mirth to Malik. “I heard you and Ileana talking. I’m sorry, I can’t help it—I hear everybody. Your idea is excellent, but none of you has chosen histories. They’ll be necessary if you plan to buy the property. If you decide to restore a building, you should consider the duration of the job, the length of the trip to get there, and the requisite living arrangements for an indeterminate number of residents. You should also consider the perception of two young, very eligible bachelors with two lovely ladies, who then accept other, similar women. You may have more difficult questions than simply logistics.”
“Two?”
“You’ve been talking with Makaha. If this is to be an exit strategy, you should also consider your futures after these young women find new homes. What would you choose as occupations?”
Arturo was befuddled. “We’ve barely discussed the idea.”
“You and Ileana are already getting along well, and Maria seems to enjoy Makaha’s company. You don’t need to be serious about relationships yet, but if you have any interest in the idea, serious thought should be directed toward it.”
Arturo paused, stared a moment, then shook his head in disbelief. “You’re almost not fair.”
Malik stretched and popped the joints in his neck. “I’m just offering input. You’re not obligated to choose a particular course of action.”
After a moment, Arturo made a lopsided grin. “Thanks, I guess. That’s a lot to process.”
“Everything needs a lot of thought these days.”
“What happened to the operatives?” asked Bomani, checking his pack’s camouflage controls. “Did Kroes come for them?”
Malik made a humored snort. “I surprised her; she imagined I would’ve let them rot. Helen is a free woman, by the way. You’ll be next.”
“What’s the mission?”
“Unknown. She’ll want to question them first.”
Bomani set his gear to the side. Arturo disabled his suit and scowled. “They could still talk and cause problems.”
Malik made a smirk. “Not if they forgot, which they did.”
“Things are getting complicated,” said Arturo, glancing toward the infirmary. “You have too many goals, and evaluating facilities will take too long. Ginthe has a huge parking lot where you can land the ship, let us off, and save us an hour.”
Too many goals, mused Malik. But we need them all. “Pathfinder is entering the atmosphere. Make ready in ten.”
The men shared a glance then entered the garage, emerging with two hoverbikes. Stealth-compatible saddle bags had been added to the Spyders, and the two giants began sorting their gear.
“Hoverbikes?”
“We prepped them earlier,” replied Arturo, looking satisfied. “One should always be prepared.”
Malik watched the remainder of their checks in silence, lost in thought. When the ship was moments from landing, he cleared the exit passage. “Ready yourselves. The passage will be darkened in fifteen seconds.”
He lowered the ramp through his remote connection to the bridge and darkened the passage. When the lights returned, the ship was ascending and the men were gone. “Good hunting,” he whispered.
Considering the empty passage and a ship at rest, Malik aborted the ship’s exit to space and directed the vessel north. Twenty minutes later, the corridor darkened again. When it cleared, he was gone.
***
The Fairglade community sprawled along the shores of Lake Shaw, wrapping around the reservoir’s fingers like a glove. Peace dominated the darkness until dogs along the northwestern edge of the neighborhood made their voices known. The sounds of a briefly hovering ship may have alerted them, but it was his unique aroma that kept them agitated.
Malik perched on the roof of a home displaced one street from the water’s edge. Owners awakened to silence their animals, but one house remained curiously at rest—the one he stood on. The canines of this home were unaware of his presence, lost in artificial slumber. He crept over the roof until he reached the edge then glanced downward. A generous pool, a spacious patio, and a small, grassy yard rested within the privacy fences. After ensuring the ground below was clear, he dropped, his muscled legs cushioning the fall and silencing the impact.
The surrounding barking continued as he eased to the patio door. After reaching outward with his mind, he used a precise, minimal tractor-beam replication to spring the lock. The local power grid registered a brief drop in power, and then another when his concealed body passed through the security screen. A brief survey revealed no other security measures. He moved to the central hallway, scanned the rising stairs, then eased upward, avoiding creaky steps until he reached the top landing. A young girl slept in a room to his right, a younger boy snoozed across the hall, and the parents rested in a bedroom at the opposite end of the house. After traversing the polished hardwood expanse to their room, he edged the door open.
His arrival was noted only by the family cat. It watched unconcerned as the door moved then became immediately alert. Although invisible to most everyone and everything, he was unexpectedly visible to the feline. It faced him as he entered
the bedroom, eyes widening, ears flattening against its head, and its posture bordering between flight and motionless concealment. It watched with great concern as Malik rounded the end of the bed and approached the nearest sleeper.
The father briefly awakened from slumber before a skull interface was placed upon his head. Held motionless and kept silent by outside control, he suffered in terrified helplessness until Malik discovered the information he needed to know. After sending the man back into slumber, Malik removed the interface, backed away, and left the room.
Having initially observed with extreme caution, the cat’s interest was suddenly piqued. It rose to follow.
The sleeper sat in his slumber, paused on the mattress’s edge, then stood to his feet. A trip to the dresser produced clothing. A visit to the closet yielded shoes. He donned the garments, stepped quietly into the hallway, and then moved down the steps.
The man’s journey was carefulness embodied, as his eyes were closed and his mind was at rest. Malik remotely watched for him and moved his limbs, gathering the necessary items for travel surrendered by the man’s interrogated memories. The man moved to the garage, disabled the alarm system, and entered his vehicle. When the opening rose for the hovercraft, Malik made his escape.
The cat sneaked through the open door and sprang into the hovercraft.
A guided five-minute journey took the man to a small waterfront park. Several minutes later, Malik arrived on foot. He placed the cloaking gear acquired by Dyllis Yang months earlier, placed it on the man, then extracted him from the vehicle. After a brief trip down a pier, the two of them boarded Pathfinder.
When the lights returned to the entry passage on Pathfinder, Malik was revealed with his new hostage. Evelyn stood nearby, waiting with sleep-deprived fatigue as he dumped the man on the deck.
“I didn’t realize we needed additional burdens,” she said, yawning. “James is minding the bridge, but I thought that you’d still be around as backup.”
Malik stretched. “Like the commandos, I needed to get out. They’re built for endurance, and managing patients isn’t their idea of stimulating.”
“Mine, either.” She scowled as she looked at the man. “Who’s this?”
“Bedele Creative’s director of acquisitions, Ander Singh. With a little assistance, the organization lost most of its liquid assets after the assault, and forty percent of the losses found their way into his accounts. This wasn’t the first time he supposedly dipped his hand into the till, and when it was discovered that the ‘sickness’ keeping him from the facility last week was a birthday party, his motives were questioned.”
“And now he’s a suspect?”
“Absolutely. His attempt to flee tonight will almost certainly solidify the accusations. He’s currently under house arrest.”
“He was, apparently. What now?”
“We wake him.”
Since the man’s slumber was largely artificial, his awakening came quickly. He saw Malik, his eyes widened in alarm, and he attempted to escape. Malik’s control kept him immobile.
“What do you want?” asked Singh in distress.
Malik eased close to the man. “You have two options. You can tell me what I want to know and go home, or you can fight me, and you won’t.”
“Who are you?” asked Singh in a tremulous voice.
“Who knows the theory and development of the enslaving process?”
“Wait. What?”
Malik scowled. “Our time is brief, your departure from home has triggered a response from the implant monitoring service, and if the police arrive before you answer, you’ll never return.”
“I don’t know,” said Singh, words scrambling from his mouth. “Our procedure has been in use for more than two and a half centuries. We don’t need to know the reasonings; we keep it within design parameters and it works.”
“Suppliers don’t occasionally update medicines and additives?”
“Not when they are well paid to keep them unaltered. They don’t mess with the formulas, the information doesn’t get leaked, and Creative’s monopoly continues.”
“Who would know the information?”
Singh shrugged. “This is a tried-and-true process. Like I said, it works. No one needed to know how or why.”
Malik frowned in astonishment. “Surely there’s some documentation?”
“Maybe, but that’s dangerous to keep available. It wasn’t stored onsite and was considered too sensitive to be stored elsewhere. If someone stashed it, then they did it a long time ago. Many people have tried to steal the program and failed, mostly because the information foundational to starting such a program no longer exists.”
“This enterprise is lucrative; someone is bound to know. People don’t simply discard priceless information.”
“Maybe, maybe not. This is a prized recipe with secret ingredients. If the formulas are followed, the product is perfect.”
Malik was stunned. Lucrative businesses were usually preserved with greater care. “Surely there are testing protocols!”
Singh shook his head. “Those were established ages ago. Bedele Creative is powerful—was powerful, anyway. Our suppliers ensured their products were perfect, otherwise they would’ve lost more than just our business.”
Anger flashed in red across Malik’s flanks, Singh fell unconscious, and Malik placed an interface on the man’s head. Evelyn raised her eyebrows in query.
“He’ll forget everything concerning tonight,” said Malik.
“What made you believe he would know anything?”
Disconcerted determination covered his visage. “None of the minds we captured contained the knowledge. I was hoping the omission was a form of mental camouflage and that he would be aware of the information.”
She was incredulous. “No one knew the methodology? How’s that even possible? No business does that. That’s an invitation for disaster.”
“It does seem ludicrous, but he was truthful. No one knows, or at least he isn’t aware of anyone.”
Evelyn folded her arms and scowled. “What now?”
Malik rose from tending the man and let his shoulders fall. His voice became a single tone. “He goes home, the commandos retrieve the requested data, and I construct the entire process from the ground up.”
“At least Creative is broke,” she said, making a derisive snort.
His answering chuckle was empty. “We could only wish; the money was insured. Woe is the man who causes banks and insurance companies to issue that enormous payout. Singh is that man. He may wish he died with the facility.”
18: Strategies
Day 704: Pathfinder
Liola entered Malik’s quarters an hour after his last appointment, easing in quietly after a door summons went unanswered. He was motionless on his floor mat; bots tended the three infirmary tables along the port and aft bulkheads, and a lone chair for his interviewees was backed against the starboard bulkhead. Six new bot chargers were installed on the forward bulkhead, and analysis units had been built above the mobile life support tables. Two bots at one of the tables paused their work for a few moments to allow a scan of their patient then resumed work. An involved tune escaped Malik’s teeth, but his body was motionless, and his skin was a steel gray. She hesitated as she considered her next course of action, sitting in the comfortable chair to wait.
“How can I help you?” asked his voice through the overhead. His song continued unabated.
She started in surprise. “I thought you were busy.”
“I am. What’s on your mind?”
Liola watched another pair of bots withdraw from their patient to permit a scan. “I need something to do.”
Malik remained unmoving. “You do have something to do. You and James are managing maintenance and piloting while everyone else is immersed in implant removal and special missions. Besides all that, you must prepare for your equivalency exam.”
“It’s boring,” she said, peering around the room. “None of it is difficult
, and all of it is tedious. It’s no wonder I quit.”
“You don’t yet have a diploma or a degree,” said the remote voice. “If the subject matter is trivial, the courses should be a breeze, and this hurdle will seem later minor.”
Liola rolled her eyes and scowled. “I want to do something meaningful. What are the bots doing to the Fates?”
“Excess nerve removal. I’m developing a method for later use.”
“And now?”
His humor was evident through the intercom. “They’re our patients, just like the other women. We’ll need to eventually give them attention.”
“Why not just do it during the day?”
The closest pair of bots separated from their patients to permit a scan. Additional instructions were received, and they returned to work. Malik shifted slightly, altering his tune.
“I do. They’re remotely tended during the day during my interviews around the city. When I return to Pathfinder, I conduct interviews of a different kind. Midnight is my next available time to work on them.”
The song he now produced reminders of a previous usage. “I suppose this is difficult.”
There was a pause. “What they’re doing is easy; they’re basically conducting the least-sensitive nerve extractions. I’ll personally manage the delicate ones.”
She was confused. “Then why the song?”
“I’m practicing, reaching through the substrate to find, substantiate, and experience different places around Evaline. I did it impulsively at Dakota, Angelis, and while searching for Selena, and I am now experimenting to quantify the method. If I can establish it with equations and data, I can methodically manipulate and use it. I might be able to reach Salient without the jumpers’ assistance.”
“How far can you stretch?”
“Seventy kilometers. Integrating my technique with mathematics helps extend the range, and the jumpers are teaching me to harden my resolve and strengthen my control.”
“Then you can see at a distance.”