by Natalie Grey
“It is a reference to a book.”
“Right. If you want to say something, just say it. Don’t bother with old references. Is that from Earth or something?”
“I don’t know.” Tik’ta sounded a bit lost. “I only wanted you to understand.”
“Right.” Aliana rubbed her face. “I… Thank you, that was considerate.” Tik’ta hadn’t meant to make her want to bang her head against the wall, after all. “You say it’s an obsession?”
“I think, like Ahab—that’s the captain in the book—he will pursue it to his death.” Tik’ta seemed worried. “I do not blame you for signing on. I’m sure you have your reasons, and he would only find someone else if it weren’t you. But this may be dangerous, so you should know what you’re getting into. I don’t think you’ll ever get to collect on your bargain,” she said honestly.
Aliana thought about this. Tik’ta was trying to be nice again; she could tell.
“Why do you stay, then?” she asked. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not a slave, are you?”
“No!” Tik’ta seemed to find this quite funny. “No, I’m not. I could leave if I wanted to.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I stay. To look after him, I guess. I’ve had captains who were idiots, and captains who were cruel. He’s a lunatic, but he’s not mean.” She gave a gesture that Aliana guessed was a shrug.
“I’ll stay, then,” Aliana said.
Tik’ta stared at her.
“Look, you’re clearly trying to warn me off for my own good, but you don’t have anywhere to go and neither do I.” Aliana started unpacking again. “By the way, I don’t ever want to talk about that.”
Tik’ta hesitated, then nodded again. “Then I welcome you aboard. We will have food soon, in the galley.”
She left, and Aliana looked after her for a moment before shrugging. As long as she got paid, she told herself, she didn’t care whether or not this job was going to be successful. If Zinqued didn’t figure out how to steal her ship back for her, she’d find a way to do it herself.
In the meantime, she’d be gone from Federation space and unlikely to run into Lawrence.
She’d take that deal.
Chapter Seven
Tafa walked quickly through the district surrounding the Jotun government buildings. Hevarod was a pleasant enough city, or at least it probably was when the weather wasn’t cold and stormy. Perhaps because the sea was so violent today, the entire place seemed to be filled with people.
She figured this was good. More people meant less of a chance that she’d stand out, and she’d learned long ago that one should never stand out. The problem with being the daughter of the family “traitors,” as she had been, was that you were always being watched. You were always noteworthy.
Tafa’s parents had been part of a family that produced weapons and had worked toward peace—against the family interests. When she was young, they were taken away. The family held them in a prison far away and had them tortured for years until they finally died.
Tafa had always known that the same could happen to her. Over the years, she had grieved her parents and sometimes resented them for their principles. After all, those principles had resulted in them being taken away, and in her living under the shadow of suspicion. She had begun to make her peace with it, but she felt like she’d spent her whole life learning to be boring and forgettable, and she’d gotten so good at it that her own relatives had failed to pay attention to her most of the time.
If she could be boring enough for them not to notice her, she could certainly be boring enough for people in a crowd not to notice her. Tafa threaded her way through the people, making sure to keep her face up and her body relaxed. If you looked down, you looked like you had something to hide; like you were trying not to be noticed.
So she kept a smile on her face and made sure to take out her directions every now and then to study them whenever she saw a police officer glancing her way. That way, some of the police might say later that they had seen her, and it would give credence to her tale of being lost.
She told herself that she knew how to do this, but her heart was still beating fast as she made her way down a side street and into the alleys around the Senate building. The closer she got, the more instinctive it was to hunch her shoulders and do other things that people would find noteworthy, and she couldn’t afford to do that.
Almost there, Shinigami said in her mind. How are you feeling?
I wish everyone would stop asking that, Tafa snapped crossly. It just makes me more nervous. Too late, she realized she’d spoken to everyone, not just Shinigami. Sorry.
Not to worry, Barnabas replied, sounding unperturbed.
Yeah, Gar added. Takes a few tries to get it right. I think I mind-shouted my first few conversations at Barnabas.
From Barnabas’ internal laughter this was an accurate statement, and Tafa struggled not to laugh along with them. With her uniform and work bag, she wasn’t very noteworthy here, but if she burst out laughing at a conversation no one else could hear, she certainly would be.
She joined the stream of people going in through the maintenance entrances. Most were Jotuns, and a few gave her a second glance—but no more than that. It had been a worthwhile investment to get an old jumpsuit because no one questioned her when she had years’ worth of grease stains on her clothes. Tafa curled her hands tight around the straps of the backpack, so that no one would see her relatively pristine fingernails, and allowed herself to be carried along a lower corridor with the bulk of the workers.
She didn’t need to go anywhere in particular at this point. Shinigami was using the scanners in the cube to assess the structure, and there was no way for Tafa to know yet which direction she needed to go. She tried to look purposeful, and still a little weary—as if she were tired of this job as an electrical engineer.
“Hey,” a voice said in the tone of a police officer trying to stop someone.
Tafa’s heart leapt into her throat, but she kept walking. There was no reason to think they were talking to her, and the worst thing she could do would be to look guilty.
“Hey, you,” the voice said again. There was a clank, and the crowd began to swirl around her. “You, Yofu—with the backpack.”
Tafa stopped, her heart pounding and her mouth suddenly dry. She turned to look at the police officer.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically.
Stay calm, Barnabas advised her. Keep your wits about you. You can do this, Tafa.
With renewed confidence, Tafa smiled up at the Senate police officer and dug in her pockets. “Do you need to see my permit?”
“Where are you going?” the officer asked suspiciously.
“Oh! I…” Tafa pulled out one of the pieces of paper and studied it. “I don’t know, actually,” she said, after a few moments. “My boss said to meet him here. He needed the other set of tools.” She hunched her shoulders and hoisted the backpack to indicate it. “He said if I went in the back door and just followed where people were going… Well, look, I don’t know if you’ve seen him. He’s Yofu, and he has a high nose bridge, and his eyes are a little bit canted forward—”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the police officer interrupted her. He was bobbing in his tank impatiently. “Just figure out where you’re going. You can’t just wander around government buildings with no clearance. You’ll need to go down that way to get your tools scanned.”
“Oh! Right. Thanks.” Tafa smiled up at him and started off in the direction he was pointing. “Sorry again,” she added over her shoulder.
He just grunted. He was already looking at the rest of the workers coming into the building, all in their chef’s uniforms or cleaning gear.
Keep walking a bit more, Shinigami said when Tafa slowed. You’re close to a lift. Keep going. Now take out your permit and pretend to look at it. Give it a moment—I’m putting the security cameras on a loop. Now look to see if he’s watching you.
He’s
not.
Up the lift when it opens. Do it quickly.
Tafa pushed her way into the lift, heart pounding. She half-expected alarms to sound, but nothing happened. The Jotun who had come out of the lift when it stopped thudded away without giving her a second glance.
Now what?
Give me a moment while I get the lift moving. A second later, it shuddered into motion. Good, Shinigami said. They don’t guard the exits off that hallway very well, but they require a pretty complicated verification to get the lifts moving so no one can use them by accident. I’m taking you to the fourth floor. That’s where I’m guessing the system I scanned is.
The lift stopped, and Tafa made sure she was studying her piece of paper as the door opened. She walked out slowly and pretended to finish reading before setting off to the right as Shinigami instructed.
With the directions being muttered in her ear, she soon arrived at a doorway flanked by two guards.
The committee was guarding Biset’s rooms. Tafa’s heart began to pound again, but she remembered Barnabas’ reassurance. She could do this. She pointed at the door tentatively.
“I was supposed to lock some of the electrical systems down in here?” she asked as if their presence made her unsure of the directive. Then she strengthened her voice, sliding into the language she’d practiced with Shinigami—using facts and terminology to make their eyes glaze over and give them the idea that she knew what she was talking about. Shinigami had told her that in a lie, too many specifics were better than too few. “They wanted to make sure they were on different circuits and not available from the main systems,” Tafa explained to the guards. “I’ll need to access panel circuits 2 and…” She checked her paperwork. “And 7,” she finished. “Then the senator won’t have to worry about anyone getting into his data.”
The guards were here to make sure no one went into Biset’s rooms, but they hadn’t been told why, and Tafa’s mission sounded like the sort of thing their employers would want. They nodded and opened the door for her, and she left it open on purpose as she settled down to work. When one of them reached out to shut it, leaving her alone, she gave him a distracted smile but otherwise pretended not to notice.
There were security cameras in two corners of the room, so Tafa made sure to have her back to them as she knelt and swung the bag off her back. She let the bots out when her hand was hidden from the cameras and set about laying out her tools.
She knew enough about electrical work to pretend to do the work she’d said she was doing, and she made sure to keep moving quickly.
All right, Shinigami said enthusiastically after not too long. Found the systems, and I’m getting into them. Oh man, fucking jackpot. They’re too smart to keep mission briefs, but I have some of his notes and a bunch of messages—so I have names. Lots of names.
How much longer do you need for the download? Barnabas sounded concerned.
Not too long, Shinigami assured him.
Tafa kept working, trying to hide her smile. She’d offered her help, and she was pulling the job off. She was managing it.
We have an opportunity, Shinigami exclaimed suddenly.
I’m not sure I like the way you say that, Barnabas stated cautiously.
Yeah, I don’t blame you. There’s a path from here to the committee’s main servers. I can get in, and I’m pretty sure I can get a good deal of data, but I don’t think I can do it without tripping alarms.
There was a long pause. Tafa found herself frozen, not sure she wanted them to do it. She had secretly envied the others when they talked about their fights. They were so courageous. They did daring things like she was doing now. Part of her wanted to tell Shinigami to do it, and she’d run out of the building if she had to, dodging the Jotun police officers and pulling off the sort of escape she’d seen the others make.
But the very real possibility of danger was making her sick to her stomach.
Gar seemed to understand. Can we sacrifice the bot? he asked practically. That way, Tafa can start for the exit now, and maybe you initiate as she’s on her way down. Because she won’t be in the room, they won’t know to look for her specifically.
Good idea, Shinigami said. Tafa, wrap it up. I’ll just destroy the bot when we’re done.
Barnabas gave the silent equivalent of a nod, his agreement a quiet impression in their minds, and Tafa put away her tools with shaking fingers. She opened the door and went out into the hallway with a smile to the two guards.
“Are you the ones who sign off on this?” They shook their mechanical heads, and she heaved a sigh. Playing the part was helping her calm down. “All right, well, thanks. I’ll see if I can figure out who I’m supposed to talk to. Have a good shift.”
They relaxed somewhat, and one of them wished her a good day as well. She made her way back to the lift, fighting the urge to run with every step.
She was halfway down to the main floor when Shinigami said, I need to start while she’s close enough to provide the uplink. Tafa, get ready to move quickly. If you have to, run, and don’t stop when you get outside. Gar and I will take care of things if we need to. We’re right there.
Okay. Tafa stared at the wall and concentrated on not throwing up.
She was halfway down the long corridor to the outside when alarms went off. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one who started violently. Several Jotuns looked around, and another Yofu in the corridor clapped his hands over his ears.
“What’s that alarm?” Tafa yelled at him as if every part of her wasn’t screaming for her to run.
“I don’t know,” he called back. They were leaning close together, and Tafa could only hope that she seemed to be half of a pair of Yofu, not the single one who’d gone up to Biset’s offices.
Tafa shrugged, waved at him, and headed out. There was yelling and Senate police were running all over the place, so she flattened herself against the wall to let them past.
You’re a natural, Shinigami told Tafa approvingly. Now get moving. They’re getting close to his office, and it’s dollars to donuts that those two guards will tell them about you.
I don’t know what either of those things is.
We’ll work on that in a few minutes. Just go!
Tafa sped up slightly and swallowed hard as she slipped past the last two guards and turned onto the street. No one called after her, though, and a few minutes later, she was practically running across the landing bay to the Shinigami’s shuttle while Barnabas beckoned and Gar gave her a huge grin.
All three of them went sprawling as Shinigami took the controls and accelerated away at high speed.
“Shinigami,” Barnabas said, from the floor, “why—”
“Because they’re locking down everything.” Shinigami looked over her shoulder as the shuttle banked. “But I got their data, and we are good to go. Three cheers for our newest little con artist!”
“Hip, hip, huzzah,” Gar said, pulling Tafa to her feet and giving her a hug. “You did it!”
“And now she gets a donut,” Shinigami said. “Everyone should know about donuts. To a Federation outpost!”
Chapter Eight
“What?” Grisor swung around in his suit to stare at his aide. “What did you say?”
“I said, uh...” The aide was fluttering from side to side in his tank, entirely unable to contain his distress. Eventually, he said, “Someone broke into Biset’s office, and may have—ah—probably did—ah—use Biset’s computers to reach the main committee servers.”
The aide’s suit was rigid and unmoving. He was clearly consumed with fear, and it took all of Grisor’s self-control not to unleash his rage at this very conveniently-placed target.
For he was consumed with rage. He had ordered Biset’s offices sealed the moment he had learned of the senator’s death. So far, they’d managed to keep a lid on things—unlike with Huword, whose death had touched off a storm in the Senate and Navy alike. They didn’t need anyone looking closer at Biset and his activities.
Bu
t no one should have gotten into those offices, and certainly, no one should have gotten into the committee’s servers.
Because the committee should not have servers. Had Grisor controlled the kill switches in his fellow committee members’ suits, he might well have used every single one of them at that moment. He did not particularly care which of them was responsible for this. He’d always known he was going to have to eliminate most of them at the end, of course, and it was close enough to the end that they would serve little further use.
All that mattered was that one of them had been unforgivably stupid, and now someone knew about it.
Grisor forced himself to behave calmly. He did not intend to be the employer aides feared for his temper. That was the mark of a lesser leader. Those who indulged in petty cruelties showed a lack of self-control.
Grisor, meanwhile, held self-control to be the highest virtue.
“The offices were sealed, yes?” He kept his voice quiet.
“Yes, Excellency.” The aide seemed worried but was happy to explain. “There were two guards at the door at all times.”
“How did someone get into the offices, then?”
“There was, ah—there was a mechanic, sir. An electrical engineer. A Yofu.” The aide seemed at once more confident, what with facts to share, and nervous about the information he was imparting. “The Yofu told them that she’d been sent to cut off certain circuits and make sure the systems couldn’t be accessed.”
Grisor stared at him wordlessly.
“So they let her in,” the aide finished lamely, as though he were aware just how much anger this would cause.
“Have they been dealt with?” Grisor asked precisely.
“I…don’t know, Excellency.”
Calm. He must be calm. The guards would be dealt with soon. Grisor did not indulge in unpredictable violence, but he did punish mistakes. His underlings must know the cost of failure, and in this case…there was only one possible price to pay.