The Kinsmen Universe

by Ilona Andrews

  She took a swallow of her wine.

  "Normally a child of my age would be working and would be expected to take care of their parent, but I wasn't allowed to do that. The Building Association stepped forward. The Elder, Doreem Nagi, apparently said that nobody in his building would die a slow death alone. The Elder has the legal powers of a magistrate: he can marry people, divorce them, he acts as a civil judge and so when he made that decision, people listened, and the building collectively took care of her. There were about three thousand people assigned to the building, but toward the end with the war and all only about seven hundred residents remained and every day someone watched my mother and made sure that she had food, was clean, and took her pain killers. I owe them a debt I may never get an opportunity to repay."

  "I take back my sad story," Ven said. "Yours is worse."

  She shrugged. "There isn't much more to tell. I would wake up, go to work, come home, fall asleep. I did this for fourteen years. And then suddenly the war was over. We didn't even know. They told us we were winning until the very end."

  She sensed discomfort emanating from him. Her story affected him, but he wasn't sure how to respond without offending her. Mighty Venturo Escana, at a loss for words.

  "Well, that part of my life is over. Now I'm here," Claire said. "Drinking pink wine and enjoying good company.

  "And eating meat cooked by a barbaric user of fossil fuels," Ven said.

  "I love the food here," she confessed. "I don't know what most things are, so I just order at random."

  "New Delphi is the culinary capital of the South. Or it claims to be. Truth is, everyone in the Provinces is expected to learn to cook whether we like it or not."

  "Oh?"

  "Oh yes. In the Provinces, if a woman is a bad cook, people make jokes." He leaned closer. "Mina, Lienne's daughter? Can't cook at all. Everything she makes tastes awful."

  Claire smiled. "I'm sure anything I made would be awful as well. Sometimes when I taste food, my mouth feels overwhelmed. This whole planet is overwhelming: the clothes, the colors, the people..."

  He leaned toward her. "You're the most disciplined, grounded person I know, Claire. I've never seen anyone hit the ground running the way you did. Nothing rattles you. If you had a psycher mind, you would be something else on the bionet."

  She could tell him. He wouldn't betray her. She could...

  "I feel at ease with you," he said. "Your mind is so calm. Every day I deal with people whose minds are a source of constant noise. When we work together, I can finally relax."

  She almost screamed in frustration.

  "You understand the way I think. I want you to know that I value that greatly. I promise, I won't put you into harm's way again. It took courage to handle it the way you've done. You stood by me. Not many employees would in your place. I won't ever forget that."

  Employee... That's what she was, an employee. She shouldn't have deluded herself.

  "Did I say something unpleasant?" he asked.

  "Not at all. I just realized it's late. I should be getting home." He would never see her as anything else. She was Claire with a quiet mind. That was her value to him. She had mistaken his friendliness and concern for something deeper.

  "I'll walk you to the ground floor."

  She rose. "It's alright. I know the way."

  Ven got up. "Let me walk you down."

  She turned and looked at him, keeping her voice flat. "It's not necessary. Thank you for the meal."

  Claire turned and walked away.

  Chapter Five

  "One blue pepper, cut into strips," the Artificial Intelligence announced.

  Claire surveyed the small heap of ingredients on her kitchen island. "Define blue pepper."

  "Blue pepper: pungent fruit of a Moloccy species rich in lycopene and Vitamin C. Flavor: sweet, slightly bitter. Appearance: dark blue, cylindrical shape tapering toward the tip."

  The picture of a blue pepper ignited on the kitchen's digital screen. Claire plucked the pepper from the bunch and placed it on her cutting board. "Demonstrate."

  The AI opened a frame showing a woman deftly chopping the pepper into five millimeter wide rings.

  Claire watched it for a few seconds, picked up the knife, and chopped the pepper.

  It was Saturday morning and she had woken up with a sudden need to prove to herself that she could cook. Immigration had fully stocked her refrigerator with raw ingredients, so she set them out on the counter and had the AI run a comprehensive analysis finding a combination that would result in a beginner-level recipe.

  "One peeled compa, cut into strips."

  "Define compa."

  "Compa: fleshy fruit of Karlovskaya species, rich in Vitamin A. Flavor: sour, with sweet aftertaste. Appearance: red tetrahedron with rounded corners."

  Claire picked out a rough pyramid-looking red fruit. "Demonstrate peeling."

  The woman on the screen scraped the compa with some sort of implement that did not look like a knife. Claire pulled open the kitchen drawers, rummaging through until she found a similar looking tool.

  A soft chime rang through her apartment.

  "You have visitors," the AI announced dutifully.

  Venturo. Her heart hammered. Her mouth went dry.

  "Visual," she said.

  The screen ignited. Claire's heart sank. Tonya stood at the door, accompanied by an old man and another that looked in his early forties.

  She clenched her teeth, furious with herself. This obsession with Ven had to end. It was turning her into a nervous wreck, catapulting her from one emotional extreme to the next. Enough was enough. Claire exhaled, finding calm.

  "Open," she said.

  The door swung open, and Tonya and the man in his forties bowed, letting the older one through the door first. Claire wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and walked up to greet them.

  The older man examined her, taking her measure. Age whitened his hair, and he walked leaning on a cane, but the eyes that looked at her from under the thick eyebrows remained sharp. He was carrying a satchel. The other man hovered protectively over him. She didn't recognize either of them.

  Tonya approached. "Retainer Shannon, we are sorry to call on you so early in the morning, but our need is great. This is Doreem Nagi, our Building Elder, and Charles Monn."

  Claire inclined her head, touching her forehead in a sign of respect. "Thank you for looking after my mother."

  Doreem nodded to her.

  "We seek your help," Tonya said.

  "Please sit down." Claire led them to the couches. Everyone took a seat.

  Charles reached into his shirt and pulled out a small tablet. On it an image of a blond teenage boy glowed. The boy's face wore the familiar Uley expression: a flat mask, betraying nothing.

  "This is Edu," Charles said. "He's fourteen."

  The image slid, turning into a portrait of a teenage girl. "Lada."

  Another image, another child. "Karim."

  "They are children from our building, refugees like us," Tonya said.

  "They got into a fight at school," Charles said. "With some local kids. One of the local boys involved claimed that his dagger was stolen in the commotion. The dagger was found on the boy's desk the next day with a broken blade. The dagger is a family heirloom. The school is willing to overlook the fight, but the child's family is upset."

  "The security forces took the dagger," Tonya added. "For trace testing."

  "The children were questioned," Charles said. "None of the three is admitting to theft and neither are they denying it. They aren't speaking to authorities."

  It was a familiar tactic: when in trouble, say nothing. "I see."

  "If traces of their DNA are found on the dagger, they will be charged with theft and destruction of property. The charge violates their probation. The children will be taken from their families and deported," Charles said.

  "Did they steal the dagger?" Claire asked.

  "Yes," Doreem said. "Edu took it to punis
h the other child. Edu is my grandson. Karim and Lada helped."

  "I see."

  "We've offered to make reparation to the boy's family," Charles said. "In exchange for dropping the inquest. They declined."

  "We ask you to..." Tonya fell silent and glanced at Charles. They looked at their hands, uncomfortable.

  "We need your help," he said. "The results of the testing must be negative."

  "You want me to log into the bionet and alter the trace analysis?"

  "Yes." Tonya exhaled.

  Claire leaned back. The Security Forces Database would be under a layered protection protocol of at least level three or higher. Cutting into it would be a nightmare.

  "You are asking me to break into a security installation. It will be very well protected. There are defenses to be overcome. The precise manipulation of data will require time. It's a lot harder to alter data than to erase it."

  "We've collected credits," Charles said. "From the families. We will gladly pay -"

  He saw the look on her face and clamped his mouth shut.

  "We have insulted you," Doreem said. His sharp eyes stabbed at her. "We ask forgiveness."

  "Apologies," Charles bowed his head.

  They thought that because she had left the building, she wouldn't understand. They thought she only cared about money. She understood. Every refugee from the building had conspired to save the children. That's what a community did in times of trouble.

  "Please continue," Charles asked.

  "Think of the data as being guarded by a pack of dogs," Claire said. "The AI defenses. If the pack sees me, they will attack and bark all together, making a lot of noise. This noise will bring men with guns, the actual psychers. To be able to do what you ask me to do, I will need help. I will need decoys that will draw the pack away from me."

  "We have people," Charles said. "They are not combat-grade, but they can move through the bionet."

  "They are utility repair people." Tonya said. "They used to check the bionet installations for the failing sectors."

  Low-level psychers, with a mental talent too slight to be affected by the PPP. She'd encountered their type on the bionet before: they could move through it but they had never fought on it.

  Claire sighed. "If we're discovered, every person involved will be deported. The children may survive. We will not. Melko will murder all of us."

  "We understand," Charles said. "I'm one of those who will be going in with you. We can't do anything more than run, but we'll risk ourselves for the children. We will do everything we can to help you. If you choose to do this."

  In her mind Claire was back in her mother's apartment, sitting by the bed, holding her mother's hand. The medic had given her less than twenty-four hours, and Intelligence had permitted her this last visitation. She remembered everything in crystal clear detail. The dark spray of black marks on her mother's face. The smile on her mother's lips. Her mother's hair, clean and braided away from her face. Her mother's voice. "I'm content, sweetheart. I'm tired, and it's time to go. Don't cry. I didn't suffer. They say the passing will be peaceful."

  Logging into the bionet meant risking everything. Her job. Her life. Other lives she took with her.

  The debt had to be repaid. If she succeeded, she would give three children another chance at life. If she failed...

  She had to succeed.

  "When was the dagger taken for testing?"

  "Last night," Charles answered.

  "What time last night?"

  "At the end of the school day," Tonya said.

  "Take the credits you gathered and rent a large hotel room in the largest hotel you can find," she said. "If asked, tell them you are having a meeting to welcome new refugees in the community. If not asked, say nothing. Pick someone who can pass for a native and have them purchase a portable liquid interface hub, Grade Five or higher. We will need the bionet cognizance units as well. If asked why, say that you are planning a game party on the bionet. We will need a medic and we will need protection for our bodies while we're logged in. Don't involve anyone who can't be trusted to stay quiet. This needs to be done tonight, before the lab personnel return to work on Monday."

  Claire walked down the polished tile of Hotel Aldebaran's sixteenth floor hallway. Charles had chosen well - the three towers of Aldebaran catered to businessmen and families. People strolled back and forth, parents with children heading toward the hotel's pools, tourists going out to explore the city. Nobody paid her any mind.

  She approached the door marked 1672 and rapped her knuckles on the plasti-steel. It swung open and Charles let her inside. The suite's main room was wide and devoid of furniture. A three-foot tall hub sat in the middle of the room, an ornate metal pedestal in the shape of three nude women, each supporting the container of dark-grey liquid interface with her left hand and fondling herself with the right.

  Claire raised her eyebrows.

  "It was on sale," Charles said.

  Doreem sat in the lone chair in the corner. He nodded to her. To the left of him stood a young man with a strong resemblance to Karim, one of the children in trouble.

  "Kosta," Charles said. "He's Karim's brother and one of your team."

  Kosta looked barely eighteen.

  "This is Zinaida," Charles said, bowing slightly to an older woman with startling blue eyes. She nodded back.

  "Nonna." A young nervous woman with pale brown hair.

  "Saim." Charles pointed at a thin dark-skinned man in his early twenties.

  "Mittali." A young woman with very dark hair and light olive skin.

  "This is our medic." A blond man in his mid-thirties raised his hand from the portable medi-bot. "Tonya will be assisting him."

  Tonya inclined her head.

  "Thomas, Sergei, and Helen will watch over us while we're under."

  The two men and a woman raised their hands.

  They had brought everything she'd asked for. Claire took the bag off her shoulder, removed her sandals, and sat on the rug before the hub. "Join me."

  The five members of her team sat in a circle around the hub.

  "How many times have you connected?" she asked.

  "Seventeen," Charles said.

  "Twenty-two," Zinaida said.

  "Eight," Saim said.

  "Eight also," Mittali added.

  "Four," Nonna said.

  "Twice," Kosta said.

  "Any connections in a hostile environment?"

  No answer. She had expected as much.

  "Bionet can be overwhelming," Claire said. "However, our minds do their best to cope by transforming it into a familiar environment. Our mind interprets things for us and you must listen to your instincts. If something gives you a bad feeling, it's likely a trap. If you see a monster, it's likely an AI defense or an enemy psycher. You will see strange things on the bionet. Creatures that grow blades. Plants that shoot lightning. You must remember to trust your instincts. If something feels dangerous, it is. Be afraid and be cautious, and you will survive."

  "But how do we fight?" Kosta asked.

  "You don't. I will take care of the fighting." Claire smiled gently. "Your mission is different. There are two types of threats on the bionet: passive and active. Passive threats are the AI defenses. They remain dormant until an intruder appears. Active threats are psychers like us, humans who patrol the bionet. They are the greatest danger. You will know them because they may look very frightening or appear out of place. For example, if you perceive the bionet as a grassy plain and you see a medium-size predator running at you, it's likely an AI defense. If you see a bovine the size of a house that's sprouting tentacles and tusks, it's likely a psycher."

  Claire paused to make sure she had their attention. "If you see a psycher, do not engage. He will kill you. If you see one, and he gives chase, you must run away as fast as you can and disconnect as soon as you are able. Remember, you can only disconnect within a short distance of the hub. Don't be afraid to lead a psycher to the hub. We will destroy i
t after the mission. Do you understand?"

  Heads nodded.

  "It's highly likely that you may see me as something terrifying as well. During the mission, I may change my shape in reaction to threats. Don't be alarmed."

  "Will you grow tentacles and tusks?" Saim asked, with a hint of humor in his eyes.

  "If I have to. We will be going into a secure sector; however, a security forces laboratory is unlikely to have an active defense. It doesn't contain any of the financial or valuable data hacker psychers usually want, so there is no need for a psycher to actively control it. The laboratory will have passive defenses instead. There are three types. First, the loop traps. These are bionet connections designed to lock a mind into a loop in an effort to keep it from reaching its destination. People typically see these as quick sand, swamps, iced over water, and so on. If you are caught in a loop, do not panic. Clear your mind and imagine yourself escaping. If that doesn't work, picture falling through the trap and landing by the hub. That usually initiates the expelling protocol. You will land by the hub and will have to log off.

  "The second type of traps are the damage events. Falling rocks, geysers of molten lava, mud slides, and so on. These are the coded defenses. They will activate when triggered but they have a limited range. If you are caught in one of these, you will take damage. Sometimes severe damage. Your mind may develop lesions or become 'bruised.' You may see something that looks like a glowing worm or a tangle of luminescent threads. Sometimes the world will abruptly darken or become too bright to see the objects. If you experience visual anomalies after a damage event, you must tell me immediately. Remember that your range is shorter than mine. I can broadcast my thoughts from a large distance, which means you will hear me but I may not hear you. If you take damage and I do not respond, you must log off as soon as possible."