by Wesley Chu
Ella tried to follow Io’s orders and lie low in her tiny studio. She tried to convince herself she was taking a staycation; a much-deserved respite after a job well done. Having woken up and finally showered around late morning, she was even able to find something to eat in her fridge and spent the afternoon watching bootleg Korean soap operas. She managed to maintain her positive outlook throughout the day, in no small part because she slept through most of it. Eventually, she had to call this what it actually was: lock down. This was prison. Io was punishing Ella for disobeying her.
That is absolutely untrue. You can actually leave if you want. I just would not recommend it until you know it is safe.
Ella paced, which was really nothing more than walking in a very small circle. She bounced a ball off the wall and stared out the window as the rain plinked the dirty glass. This voluntary incarceration would be a lot more bearable if she could sit outside and have a beer. Of all the awful times for bad weather.
You could spend this time being productive, like working on your English. Or better yet cleaning your room.
Io had been working diligently with Ella on her English and Mandarin ever since they met. It was still a work in progress.
Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. She rolled out of bed and snatched her knife harness from its hook, grabbing a wad of cash and sheathing three knives. She adjusted the strap holding her large dagger, and then took a black garbage bag sitting in the corner of her apartment.
This is it? This is as long as you can lay low? It is not even dinner yet. You cannot even last a day.
“You’re the one always telling me not to keep score.”
That is not… never mind. Can you at least agree to stay in Little India?
“Fine, whatever.”
You know I can read your thoughts.
“I mean I’ll try.”
Still lying.
“It’s close enough.” Ella barged out of her apartment, whisking by Luna-Roona’s place before the old meanie could open the door, and sped down the stairs two at a time. She sent texts to her outfit for an update and then hurried to her favorite noodle shop a block out of the Nishi Kasai district. It was technically not in Little India, but like she and Io had agreed, why keep score? Besides, it was only a little bit outside. That didn’t really count, right?
I will remind you of this next time Asao shortchanges you.
She grunted. “Not if he’s a fan of his blood staying in his body.”
Ella arrived at the aptly-named Go-To Udon and took her usual seat in the corner booth. The proprietor Kite gave her a familiar wave, and a piping hot bowl of soup arrived as if by magic a few minutes later. Ella thanked him in her heavily-accented Japanese and handed him a garbage bag filled with slightly-dated textbooks from the neighborhood juku.
Kite’s daughter Yuki was studying to get into university, but their family could not afford to enroll her into the local cram school. It didn’t take too much digging around for Ella to discover that the chain-smoking owner of the juku enjoyed a special brand of Caribbean cigarettes that were heavily tariffed and difficult to obtain.
One more inquiry to a contact at the docks, and everyone was happy. The juku owner got discounted cigarettes. Ella made a small profit and got some old books thrown in for free. Yuki got the books she needed for her studies. And as an added bonus, Kite gave her free udon whenever she came in.
It was a lot of legwork for free noodles, and Ella made sure not to abuse his generosity. She had made a friend though, and friendship was infectious. She was starting all over again in a new city with new people. If she ever hoped to achieve the same success she had had in Crate Town, she had to build relationships and become a known person. Kite had already referred a few of his customers to her. A woman was looking for a cheap source of quality knock-off designer purses, a university student was looking for some Star Wars Lego set, and an old lady badly wanted opium. Ella wisely left that last request alone. The drug trade was its own brand of extra nasty.
Let us not get carried away with your degree of success in Crate Town.
“Says the alien with the worst track record in history. Or is that the universe?”
The two continued to jab at each other, mostly good-naturedly. They were finally comfortable enough to give each other grief and not take offense. At least not too much. There were a handful of times, especially during Ella’s stint at the Academy, when they had pushed each other over the edge. It had given Ella a bad reputation among the students. It had made her appear moody and volatile. None of them ever suspected that it was because she was a host. It was considered inappropriate, even forbidden, to discuss who may be a host. Everyone gossiped though; it was the most talked-about thing at the Academy after one-night stands.
It honestly also wasn’t hard to guess who were the likely hosts. They were usually the stand-out students, the brightest, the most polished, and the best trained in just about everything. No one, in the eighteen months that Ella had attended the Academy, had ever accused her of being a host.
You are just very good at hiding my abilities.
“You are just very good at not having any.”
That set off another round of insults over wagashis and boba tea. Kite stopped by her table to offer her some fruit sandos as well, which was super nice of him. He was still very appreciative of all the textbooks and knew how to show it. The deal with the school was paying dividends even after all these weeks. Kite had also become used to the verbal outbursts that happened when she was having an especially animated discussion with Io.
After about an hour of ribbing, Ella’s phone began to play an 8-bit anime theme song. She stared at the screen: Yakuza Reject. She picked up the phone. “What’s up Hinata?”
“Hey Big Bosu, I have buyers lined up. The Bakkas are interested in the guns.”
Of course those Neanderthal clowns would be.
The country had seen a resurgence of these bosozoku gangs after the Alien World War, and the Akai Bakus were one of the larger gangs that loosely reported to the local yakuza running the Kabukicho District. Most called them the Bakkas, but never within earshot of the Akai Bakus.
Ella scrunched her face. She preferred to sell weapons to someone else, anyone else, just about everyone else. The Bakkas weren’t the most stable bunch. She almost told him no. Almost. But Ella was a businesswoman, and their money was as good as any. She shrugged. “Make it happen. Cash deal. No questions. We get free and clear from the Yakuza for the transaction and immunity with the Bakkas for any trouble.”
“They want to make the deal today. Right now.”
So much for the day off. Ella rapped the table as she decided what to do.
You do not have to sell to the first interested buyer. The Bakkas are not trustworthy. The guns will sell themselves to many parties.
Ella hated sitting on merchandise, especially weapons. Gun running was serious business and, like drugs, a trade she didn’t particularly enjoy partaking in. If any word leaked about that stash, someone would likely try to rob them this very night. She also didn’t trust Io’s business sense. “Set it for in an hour,” she said to Hinata. “Meet at the World-Famous.”
“You got it, Bosu.”
You still have not forgiven me for that briefcase deal back in Crate Town, have you?
“And I never will.”
Ella checked the time. It was a long train ride. She should have said two hours. She got up to leave and looked down at the tasty-looking fruit sandos. It would be criminal to waste good snacks. She stuffed two in her mouth and waved goodbye to Kite as she hurried out of the restaurant to sell illegal guns to a bunch of psychotic bikers.
Chapter Seven
The Search
I knew Emily’s auxiliary would abort the mission and flee India once he became a host. I could not allow that to happen, so I took the risk and chose Ella. It was my intention to connect with the Genjix in order to defect. However, I had
to walk a fine line with Ella, because she blamed the death of her parents on the Genjix.
I began training the girl, building our relationship and biding my time to make a move. Things progressed well at first. She was initially easy to manipulate, but the situation became more complicated with the arrival of the Prophus Adonis vessel, Cameron Tan.
The customs agent studied the photo, eyed Makita’s worn and misshapen bald head, and then stared back at the passport. His face scrunched. “Purpose of your visit?”
Makita put his arms around Josie’s waist. Her entire body tightened. “Been promising the missus a vacation for years. Just trying to keep my word. You know how it is–” Josie elbowed him in the ribs. He winced and coughed.
The agent ran them through a Penetra scan, and then returned their passports. “Heed the restricted zones. Always carry your passports with you. Obey all Genjix officials. You can identify them by their yellow lapels. You will be arrested if you are found after curfew. Welcome to Singapore. Enjoy your stay.”
“In that order of importance, obviously,” grumbled Makita, as he linked elbows with Josie and led her away from the checkpoint.
She whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Are you having a stroke?”
“No, why? This is my Australian accent. I’m staying in character.”
She scowled. “Well, cut it out. You sound like a drunk cowboy who forgot his lines in a low-budget American western.”
“Isn’t that what Australians sound like?”
She elbowed him again. His already-broken ribs were getting more tender, not less. Makita and Josie hailed a taxi to the Geylang district. They settled back into their seats as the car sped down the East Coast Park toward Downtown Core. Bright, flashing neon signs and flurries of videos and sounds assaulted their senses. Makita turned away from the window. It had been years since he had last done any fieldwork. On the one hand, this was the most thrills he had had in over a decade. On the other, he forgot how overrated excitement was.
He pointed out the Penetra scanners placed at major intersections, and the various blue-uniformed local police and yellow-lapelled stateless officers who held jurisdiction over every Genjix-controlled country. Makita noticed Josie holding her breath as they drove down the coastline. Her eyes looked far away. “When was the last time you were here?”
“The first time we retreated off the continent.” She pointed at the harbor. “I was on one of the last ships that pulled away right there after the beachhead in the fourth wave. That was a disaster.”
Makita shook his head. “The early years of the war were especially bad, and full of stupid.”
“That’s the nice way of putting it.” Josie turned away from the window as they passed by another checkpoint, their third in fifteen minutes. “So, if you’re retired, how did they rope you back into active duty?”
Makita chuckled. “When the Keeper asks you for a favor, it’s hard to say no. Besides, retirement sucks. There’s only so many flowers a guy can plant and so many walks the dog can take before you get the itch to do something stupid just so you feel like you’re still alive. Like getting back into the field.”
“No one to keep you company?”
“Not every couple gets to retire at the same time. Wife still has a career to wrap up, and the kid’s long flown the coop, blazing his own trail.” Makita swallowed his bitterness. “Most of my friends are dead, and all my old hobbies hurt my back. So when the Keeper said jump, I thought, what the hell, why not?”
“And here you are behind enemy lines looking for a runaway host who doesn’t want to be found. All because of boredom.”
“More or less,” he grinned. “I just thought I was going to teach a bunch of dumb kids for a few months. You know, get a free vacation out of it. Visit the Outback and see what’s left of the Great Barrier Reef. This trip here is a bit more than I expected. Not gonna lie, I’m having more fun than I’ve had in years.”
“You’re a fool.”
“You’ve just never been retired. You’ll understand once you get put out to pasture. If we survive this mission.”
The taxi deposited them on a narrow street filled with skinny four-story buildings sandwiched together like books on a shelf. Makita and Josie kept their faces down and wore their duffels over their backs like tourists. They turned onto an even narrower street and navigated more crowded alleys and slender walkways between sagging stone structures. They had just crossed one of the major streets when something caught Makita’s eye. He stopped and squinted.
“What is it?” asked Josie.
“Are you hungry?”
She looked as if she were about to snap at him for sleeping on the job, paused, and gave it a second thought. “I could eat.”
“My kind of partner,” grinned Makita. “I need to keep my blood sugar up. I get pretty hangry.” He led her to a small porridge shop off the main street called Miss Congee-neality. They sat in the far corner adjacent to the kitchen so they had a clear view of the front entrance and the hallway to the back. They settled in and placed their orders.
“You said there’s a lead to the host in Singapore,” asked Josie. “We’re here. How do we find her?”
“First stop is to hit up our contact at the safe house.”
Josie’s eyebrows rose. “In a Genjix city on the main continent?”
“In every city, especially on the main continent.”
“I’ve heard so many things about Prophus safe houses. I’ve never had the opportunity to actually see one.”
He rolled his eyes. “Prepare to be disappointed. They’re all dumps. Definitely not the Four Seasons. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a safe house that wasn’t in the sewers or some crappy re-purposed warehouse.”
“It really can’t be worse than…” Josie stiffened and clammed up when a yellow uniform wandered into the restaurant. Her reaction was so abrupt, it attracted the Genjix officer’s attention. The young woman threw them a curious glance, and then decided that lunch was more important.
Makita reached out and gently laid a hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Relax,” he mouthed silently. They kept their eyes locked on each other.
The young woman ordered carry-out and chatted familiarly with the owner. She waved at a few more patrons who walked in and then lounged at a table on the opposite side of the restaurant while she waited.
“Have you ever worked clandestine operations?” asked Makita after the coast was clear.
Josie shook her head.
“There’s nothing to it. Relax and follow my lead,” he assured her. “It’s all just acting. Pretend you’re in a play.”
“I was once in a play in secondary school. I didn’t have a speaking part.” She sneaked a glance at the youthful uniformed woman staring at the menu on the wall. “That young thing is an actual Genjix operative?”
He nodded. “In a way, yes. Stateless officer likely recruited from the local office, probably from the youth core. Not the hardcore serial-killing assholes we know and love.”
“She looks barely grown. It’s shocking how normalized things have become. I still remember being utterly shocked when the news broke that aliens live among us. Now people seem to readily accept the aliens as overlords. I don’t understand how they ignore that the Genjix’s end goal is to destroy and remake the world.”
“It’s not so black-and-white,” said Makita. “Most folks just want to go about their lives. As long as they provide stability and jobs and technology, people are all right with the consequences of some distant future. Humanity can be very shortsighted.”
“Take the penny now. Pay the pound later.”
The waitress delivered their drinks and porridge. Josie had hot tea while Makita had black tapioca boba tea with the giant straw. These were joined a few minutes later by two large bowls of steamy, gooey congee.
Makita waggled his jaw from side to side, checking if his cracked dentures were going to hold, and
then dug in. He slurped noisily for several seconds, then eyed Josie curiously. “If this sort of work isn’t your thing, why did you decide to come with me? You could have sent one of your officers.”
Josie burned her tongue spooning the hot porridge into her mouth. “You’re an over-the-hill retired agent going into enemy territory on what I consider a suicide mission. I’m not letting you go by yourself, but I’m also not about to order a direct report to go on some off-book job. We are a school. Most of my guys are just cruising until retirement.”
“Aren’t you a couple months from retirement yourself? In fact, you were eligible for full benefits two years ago. What are you still doing out here? You’ve done your time.”
“A few weeks actually.” Josie stared as she stirred her congee. “Guess I’m afraid of what you’re going through. Parents and brother long gone. No other relatives. I just have an empty house in Perth waiting for me. All my friends are in the service. The Prophus and that Academy are all I have left.” She sipped her tea and smacked her lips. “Besides, one last hurrah sounds like fun.”
Makita held out his cup of boba tea. “Then you’re a fool too.”
Josie chuckled. “To the foolish couple.” They touched glasses.
After their meal, they set off on foot again, navigating the maze-like alleys. Dusk was setting, and what little daylight was left in the slits between the buildings was barely reaching ground level. They passed several more blue-uniformed and one more yellow-lapelled officer.
“There’s police all over,” muttered Josie. She checked her comm. “This entire city is blanketed by scanners. I don’t see how any host can move through here without getting caught.”