by Wesley Chu
“Those are strictly reserved for internal voicemails,” Surrett said stiffly. “The public has no access to them.”
The Adonis shrugged, just slightly. “Your mail server security isn’t exactly top-grade either. That took all of fifteen minutes to access.”
Amita walked in with a fresh tray of tea. His assistant frowned when she saw the tall, beautiful white lady, no doubt wondering how she had gotten into the office. Surrett was willing to bet Amita was going to spend a few hours the next couple of days searching for a hidden entrance. Also, with the Adonis’s striking looks, Amita might consider her something more unsavory and gossip with others in the building. He decided to nip that in the bud.
He gestured to Shura first. “How do you prefer your tea, Adonis?”
Amita’s eyes widened and she gawked. She was low enough in standing to have never even met a vessel, let alone one of the Adonises. It was one thing to see an Adonis vessel in a video, it was another entirely to stand meters away. They were physically near-perfect humans.
“I am so blessed and honored–” Amita said, falling to one knee.
“Put the tea down and get out.” Shura cut her off with a lazy wave of her hand. She shook her head as Amita beat a hasty retreat. “If I had to sit through this sort of ceremony every day, nothing would get done.” She picked up a cup, blew on it and sipped. “No poison. We’re starting off on the right foot, Minister.
“I would never, Adonis,” Surrett stammered. “I serve–”
“Seriously, cut it out,” Shura snapped. “My approval does not give you license to grovel more. Now, before we get down to business, soundproof this room. I’m sure there’s probably another recording device I may have missed.”
Surrett hesitated. There was indeed a backup. How did she know? He went back to his cabinet and took out a small gray machine. He placed it on the coffee table between them and turned it on. A low hum laid over the stillness, its resonance filling his ears. The pitch grew higher and higher until it became imperceptible to the human ear. He looked up at the Adonis and nodded. “The room is secure from all listening devices.”
She placed the cup on the table in front of her. “Your primary responsibilities are to push India toward joining the Genjix and to oversee the construction of the Bio Comm Array project. One is progressing as planned. How is the other?”
“The Bio Comm Array construction goes as well as can be expected for a project of this magnitude,” he replied. “However, I am confident–”
Shura took out a tablet and dropped it on the table with a loud slapping sound. She stabbed a finger on the screen, and several lists of blue numbers began floating in the air above it. “The Bio Comm Array was scheduled for its first test run a month ago. Facility construction is three months behind schedule, you’re two hundred million Euros over budget, and the project has missed six of its last nine milestones. On top of that, you haven’t even acquired all of the land stipulated in the blueprints.”
“The build site is in a residential area,” Surrett replied. “Land acquisition by law requires–”
“That is why the Genjix made you the Deputy Minister of Gujurat,” she snapped. “So you can work around these bothersome laws.”
Surrett bowed, the tie suddenly feeling very tight around his neck. “Since India has not yet officially joined the Genjix, there are obstacles that must be overcome. I apologize for the delays and will redouble my efforts.”
Shura leaned forward. “I report directly to High Father Weston, and we both agree that this project is far too important to the Genjix for politics, so from this point on, I am taking over. You report directly to me, not Rurik. Is that clear?”
Surrett kept his eyes on the ground. His faith told him he should follow a direct order from an Adonis vessel. His loyalty told him he should at least pass this information along to Rurik, the owner of this project and the man who put him in charge. His ambition, though, told him to see how things unfolded. “Your will, Adonis.”
Shura leaned back in the couch and crossed her legs again. “I see you have lobbied to be raised to a vessel.”
Surrett choked on his tea. “Yes, Adonis, but…”
“Of course, given the rising output of the hatcheries from both Costa Rica and Moscow, as well as the new hatchery in Chengdu, attracting a Holy One may prove difficult for those climbing up the standings. One would almost need a sponsor. Has Rurik been supportive of your efforts?”
“I hope, in time, Father Rurik–”
“Perhaps you need a new sponsor.” She smiled.
Sensing an opportunity, he bowed hastily. “It would be an honor, Mother.”
“Good. Serve me well and I will personally see to it. I do not care if you report my presence to Rurik since I am here by the Council’s request, but Rurik will make life tiresome for us both. If you do report to him, then I know where you stand, understood?”
“Yes, Adonis.”
Shura smiled. “Good.” She tapped the tablet and slid a finger to the right. Surrett’s entire project plan appeared in the air. “I’ve identified the two most pressing issues: the supply chains are ineffective, and that is affecting the critical paths of the observatory structure.” She pointed at a parcel of land on the northern edge of the site. “Why do we not already own from here to the river? It is absolutely vital we acquire and develop the area all the way to the docks. I don’t care if it’s residential. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with finances. What is the current status of your budget?”
Surrett experienced that sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The Adonis wasn’t here to address the project’s problems; she was here to take it over. His eyes flickered to the tiny camera hidden in the chandelier. It wouldn’t be able to pick up audio because of the resonance disrupter she had him turn on, but it could still record video. He had to find a way to obey the Adonis, serve the Genjix, and yet still raise his standing. At the very least, he couldn’t let her take the project away from him.
He was left with little choice. The key would be to find the wedge between Shura and Rurik and be the factor that influenced the winning side. Playing two Adonis vessels against each other was usually suicide, but standing had to be taken, seized, and Surrett intended to do just that. He glanced in the mirror and adjusted his tie until it was perfectly straight.
Conflict bred innovation. This was his chance.
Ten
Jail Time
For the second time that day, Ella woke up with a terrible headache. The first thing she felt was the cold, hard concrete on her cheek. She inhaled and gagged at the smell, and knew exactly where she was. Indian jail cells in the slums had their own unique, terrible stench, and this was by the measure of someone who had hidden in a pile of garbage the other day.
She sat up and stared at the rusty metal bars. On the other side, sitting at a desk facing the wall, was the man she dreaded seeing. She rose onto wobbly feet and grasped the bars with her hands. “Hey Uncle Manu, what does a girl have to do to get a drink of water around here?”
Manu, the inspector in charge of the Crate Town precinct, looked up from his work and smirked. “Well, hello, Black Cat. When Dhruv and Sanchit told me they had a present for me, I thought they were kissing my ass with more sandesh. Never in a hundred years did I think those two idiots were smart enough to catch you. They told me you practically walked up to them. I can only assume then that you wanted to see me so you could pay back that money you stole from me.”
Why did you not tell me you conned the police?
“You didn’t ask.”
“Now, now,” Ella replied to Manu. “It was an investment, and not all investments go our way.”
“Is that so?” Manu said. He took a plastic cup and filled it with water. He walked up to her cell and held it out. When Ella reached for it, he pulled it back and took a sip. “I have an investment for you then. You get me back all the money I invested, with that fabulous return you promised, or you get to stay in thi
s cell. You have until you die of thirst to pay me back, with interest.” Manu took another sip and dumped the rest of the water on the floor, then walked back to his desk.
“How am I going to get your money back stuck here in this cell?” she yelled.
He began working again. “You’re resourceful. Figure it out.”
Ella sunk down to her knees and stared at the puddle of water on the other side of the bars. She reached between the bars with her hands and wetted her fingers, and then let a few drops fall into her mouth. She couldn’t recall a worse situation than the one she was in right now. There was literally no one in the world she could think of who would be willing to give her money to get out of here, even if her life depended on it. That was a little depressing.
How much did you steal from him?
“I didn’t steal. It was a bad investment. It happens.”
Did you withhold vital information regarding the investment?
“Of course. He was the silent partner.”
Did you fully intend on giving him the returns he expected?
“No, but who does?”
You stole from him. Dumb decision stealing from the police.
“Whose side are you on, anyway? Can you stop patronizing me and help me figure out how to get out of here?”
Already on it. Just relax.
It wasn’t as if Ella had anything else to do in the cell. She lay down and stared at the ceiling, and traced the cracks running along it with her fingers. Much like how she used to see animals and faces and objects in cloud formations, she imagined shapes within the spiderweb-like lines that cut the ceiling.
She pretended that two dark, nearly parallel lines formed a mighty river and the small bumps on either side were hills. The pointy grooves became trees and the small circles transformed into animals. Before she knew it, she was staring at a lovely forest. Then she imagined that the water stains slowly spreading across the surface of the ceiling were waves of lava flowing over the land, burning everything in their path.
That went down a dark train of thought.
Ella sighed, and erased that image from her head. She reformed the lines again, this time imagining the two edges of a tower. The bumps on the sides were clouds, the grooves became planes, and the circles were bombs. The water stain became the smoke that choked the air.
You grew up during the war?
Ella nodded. “The day the Vadsar Air Base was attacked, I was in school down the street with all the other army brats. Teacher took us away on the bus and we fled south. I thought I saw Amma’s plane get shot down.”
I am sorry.
“I’ve been in Crate Town ever since. A kid doesn’t have a lot of happy thoughts growing up in that world.”
What about your father?
“He’s an asshole. Appa and Amma got into a big fight a few weeks before the attack. The next day, he was gone. I haven’t heard from him since. I hope he’s dead.”
Ella kept staring at the water stains, wondering if any of it was going to form a drip. At least she’d get a drink that way. Probably dysentery too, but it wasn’t like she was going to live much longer anyhow. Maybe Manu was bluffing. She raised her head and looked over at the uncle still working at his desk. No, probably not. She was just lucky that bastard was too lazy to torture. Otherwise – she looked over at the car battery on the floor attached to clamps – things could really get unpleasant.
You have never seen the forest, have you?
“Nope. Army bases and Crate Town.”
One day, I will show you.
“Like we’re ever getting out of here alive. Didn’t you say you were working to get us out?”
I am. Hang tight.
“It’s already been three hours. How much more hanging do we have to do?”
There was a long pause.
“Hey, Io?”
Yes?
“That famous general you used to possess, the one that died to a bunch of American Indians, his name wasn’t Custer, was it?”
As a matter of fact, it was.
“Go figure,” Ella sighed. “Of all the aliens I get in my head… Wait, you weren’t at that Alamo place, were you?”
No. Why do you only know those historical events and not the important battles I led, like Brownstown during the War of 1812 or Kemmel Ridge during the Great War?
Ella shrugged. “I get my education from television and cinema. If they didn’t make a movie about it, it couldn’t have been that important.”
Rescue came later that evening. To Ella’s shock, it came in the form of Coward, the man who had kidnapped her and brought her back to his apartment. The tall thin Englishman, looking decidedly uncomfortable, arrived with a suitcase of money and offered to bail her out. Manu was almost as surprised as she was and began to tack on demands to the final bill. Not only did Coward have to pay for bail, he also had to repay the money Ella had supposedly conned from Manu, as well as an additional fee for services rendered. To Ella, it was an astronomical amount, but Coward didn’t even bat an eye as he counted the money and pushed the pile across the table.
“Pleasure doing business,” Manu purred. He turned to Ella. “And you stay out of business, you hear?”
Ella filed out of the police station and took a deep breath. It still smelled like garbage right outside the precinct, but not nearly as bad as her cell. She had only been there a few hours, but she felt as if she had done hard time. She looked over at Coward walking beside her, and stuck out her hand. “I guess I should thank you, Coward.”
“I guess you should,” he replied, shaking it. “My name is Hamilton, not Coward. Hamilton Breckenridge.”
“Ham, Hameel… Feck…” Ella struggled over the name. She often had trouble with English words with too many syllables. “Can I just call you Coward?”
“Absolutely not.”
“All right, Hammy. How did you find me anyway?”
“It’s Hamilton. I’ve been monitoring you ever since you joined with Io. As her auxiliary, it’s my duty to assist her in any way possible. It’s important these days for all hosts to have backups.”
Ella pretended not to notice Hamilton’s face darken at that last sentence. “Well, does that mean you’re backing me up now?”
“All hosts are ranked as commanders. I am here to assist you in any way possible.” There it was again.
Ella had a pretty sharp eye when it came to tells. Being observant came with the territory in her line of work. She could learn a lot just from watching someone walking down the street, much more if they opened their mouths. From the cadence of their footsteps to the inflection on certain words, or even the way they hung their hands at their sides, everyone had tells.
It was also in the way their face scrunched or the way they spoke with gritted teeth. The biggest tells were always in the eyes, and right now, Hamilton’s eyes were telling her he was unhappy with her, or this situation, or perhaps with Io, but he was doing his best not to show that he was surly.
“Hey Io, what’s his deal?”
Hamilton was with my previous host for only a few months. He is sensitive.
“Sensitive about what? The guy is barely hiding the fact he hates my guts. Is he mad because I kicked his ass when he was creeping all over me?”
He was not creeping over you. He was tending to your wounds, and I believe he would disagree with you on who won that fight.
“Whatever. Whoever comes out of a fight prettier wins. If he’s not mad that a girl half his size showed him who the bigger man was, then what is he angry about?”
Probably because you are my host, and not him. Both sides lost Quasing in staggering numbers during the war. Auxiliary ranks were created and assigned to assist hosts, and to serve as a backup for a Quasing in the event the primary host passes.
“You guys can die?”
Yes, if we are exposed too long to your environment without finding a host.
“So he’s a backup body for you to inhabit if something happens to me?”
“So why didn’t you enter him instead of me when that woman died?”
I have my reasons. And her name was Emily, Emily Curran. You should respect those who came before you.
“Emma… Emily Curran, Emily Curran.” Ella repeated that name in her head.
“Pardon?” Hamilton asked. “You say something?”
“Never mind.”
The two walked in silence for most of the way to her container cluster. Ella wasn’t sure what to make of this new tall, thin, pasty-white man. First of all, there was no way he could hang out with her regularly. He stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t that white people were rare in the slums. Crate Town was a melting pot with people from all over the world. Indians lived in harmony next to Pakistanis, Koreans next to Japanese, Saudis next to Iranians. All people here cared about was survival and profit, not ethnicity.
Hamilton stood out because he did not look like he belonged in Crate Town. His clothes were too clean, his walk was too polite and timid, without the swagger that signaled to others not to mess with him. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn’t been beaten up and robbed a couple of times already. It would totally ruin Ella’s reputation on the streets to have this gangly foreigner following her around wherever she went. It would probably spell the end of her career as a conwoman.
Not necessarily a bad thing.
“Says you. I love my job.”
Being a con artist is not a profession.
Hamilton escorted her all the way to her front door, and for a second, Ella was horrified and embarrassed that he might try to come inside. Very few people in her life had seen the inside of her home and she preferred it that way. This guy might be her new assistant or auxiliary or whatever they called it, but he was still a complete stranger.