by R. Z. Held
She’d managed to hide her tension from Cyperus, at least, as he was reading silently on his system as they waited in another bland meeting room for Galax. They were supposed to be discussing the exact logistics of how she’d get a sample home, but Sienna didn’t begrudge Galax the luxury of running a little late, considering command of the whole facility had indeed devolved onto him.
“Ha!” Cyperus said suddenly. “You’ll enjoy this. Look what I found among the information Elantine requested from Idyll.” He brought up a photo on the table.
One glance was enough for Sienna to recognize it. Embarrassing, definitely, but lightly so, as it was also a reminder of a happier time. “That was publicly accessible?” She spread her hand to partially obscure it until she could finish her disclaimer. “You should know, posing for some version of this photo is a tradition for everyone who works there, especially the interns.”
The photo showed the grand sweep of the Amsterdam Institute’s main building. Its central windows reflected the vibrant presence of the forest it faced, and to the side of the main doors, a sculpture reached the roof, a mostly two-dimensional silhouette of a woman with wings half-raised behind her beside two men, one with wings, one without. Their grouping looked to the side, attention on their path ahead, while the polished metal surface reflected back green broken into abstract pools where the metal curved up or down in a suggestion of three dimensions to the figures’ bodies.
And, comparatively small, Sienna stood before the woman’s feet, looking to the side with her arms raised high, a laughing imitation of Amsterdam Genevieve herself.
“To do it right, you really should have two of you, one to do Amsterdam, one to do her wings,” Cyperus teased, startling a laugh from her.
Because he’d made her laugh, and because maybe it would give her the courage she needed to ask him the question that filled her mind, Sienna caressed fingertips down the paths on his hand. She was rewarded with an exhalation on a low, pleased note. He did have that kind of sensation tuned in, then. Excellent.
“Galax sends his apologies.” Gentiana knocked a knuckle on the doorframe only after she’d spoken. Sienna jerked her hand away from Cyperus’s. Gentiana lowered her hand so she could lounge against the doorframe in its place. “Okay, what could you two possibly have been doing in here half a meter apart with all your clothes on, that you look so guilty about?”
“Data-path fucking.” Pen sounded insufferably smug. “Which I’m honestly staggered no one invented before her, but I can’t find it in any of Isachne’s memories, so Sienna can probably claim that too.”
Sienna pressed her forehead to the table and hid her face with her arms. “Pen, if you aren’t a Near-AI anymore, you have to stop being such a voyeur,” she said on a reluctant laugh, muffled.
When she dared show her face again, Cyperus, far from amused or offended, looked frozen. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend such teasing when it was aimed at him, given a lifetime of holding back from relationships serious enough for friends and family to notice. She switched to a private channel with him.
Cyperus shook his head, but was distracted from further response when Gentiana cocked her head in curiosity about the photo still up on the table. He slewed it around to face her. “Look what Elantine found.”
“I imagine she shit her pants when she saw it,” Gentiana murmured, pleased. “Do we know when we’re shipping her out yet?”
“Not yet. I imagine they’ll want to attempt to interrogate her, since we’re not mentioning that we have another lead on a counter, in case they make trouble for Sienna getting out of here.” Cyperus sprawled back in his chair, reveling in all the positions he could manage without the assist, even if he still needed crutches for any trip longer than the one from his quarters to the mess. Those crutches were noticeably absent at the moment, which didn’t necessarily mean he’d been cleared for the longer distance to the meeting room, but Sienna didn’t interfere.
They’d assured Sienna—and Pen had verified—that she hadn’t come up at all in the reports Galax was making, yet. She would, eventually, but by then she’d be gone via the next supply ship. “I can’t promise how long a counter will take to develop,” she noted. It might go faster with a live sample. She could say that too, right now. A good, logical reason for coming with her.
“That’s all right, that means I might be back up to physical strength by the time I have the opportunity to get my clearance back.” Cyperus sat up straighter, gaze going distant. Everything he’d ever longed for, Sienna supposed.
“Tehran Cyperus.” Pen’s voice was unexpectedly intense. “Did Elantine deactivate your brain? You are never going to get your clearance back. Never. It’s not giving away any secrets to say that having heard Galax’s conversations with the brass, it’s touch and go whether any of you will ever be leaving this planet again, and even if we can eventually finesse that, I doubt they’ll let you even speak to an active agent in your life again, for fear of infection.”
Sienna was getting less hopeful about her chances with every moment, but she’d never have another opportunity as perfect as this. “You know, Amsterdam Genevieve came home with two Pax Romana soldiers who not only helped her found the Institute, they eventually became citizens.” She oriented the photo on the table to face the two of them again, and tapped the two men in the sculpture. “You could come with me. Then they’d not only have a live sample of LSF’s nanites, they’d have a way to immediately test a counter to see if it really works in someone’s system instead of just in the lab.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she hurried on, desperate to get all her arguments out before he could refuse. “And it’s not like you’ll be giving them access to any Pax Romana int-tech that I won’t be, given Isachne’s implant. If you’re worried about having enough to keep you busy, the Institute’s Research division would hire you in a heartbeat, or Idyll Defense—”
Cyperus finally cut her off, expression pained. He covered one of her hands with his own, hiding the image of the sculpture as well. “Sienna, I can’t just walk away from the fight with LSF, not after this. Whatever I have to do, to help strike back at them…” She suspected he hadn’t actually heard a single one of her arguments, so carefully prepared.
“Listen to me. They’re not going to let you do a damn thing, you fucking moron—” Pen’s volume rose.
“Even if you were Isachne herself, making such fool pronouncements, you have no idea what the brass might or might not make compromises on, to keep my skills—” And Cyperus could shout her down just as easily.
“Stop it!” Sienna hunched her shoulders in, but didn’t allow herself any other visible sign of the way her stomach was twisting itself around a knot of disappointment. There was no point the others being assholes at each other when it wouldn’t change anything. “It’s a hell of a lot to give up, leaving not only a career, but a home. I understand.”
Gentiana dragged her fingertips along the table, stealing the photo out of their control, though she didn’t do anything with it once it was in front of her. “Bear in mind, I don’t have personal insight on any of that, but it sounds to me like he won’t have a career to leave, so then it’s only home.” One side of her lips pulled tight, sad. “Some people are worth giving up even something that big for.”
Cyperus’s expression was stunned once more. Sienna supposed he hadn’t realized that’s what she was really asking—come with her, not just with her. She should have been more clear, but she had her answer anyway. She wished it didn’t hurt so much.
She pushed to her feet. “I’d better go see about picking out quarters of my own.” Because she’d been staying with Cyperus, but damned if she’d keep sleeping with him when that would only make it hurt worse when she left. “Since you’re keeping me out of this, I don’t really need to be there for the meeting with Galax anyway.”
“Oh. I…” Cyperus trailed off, looking hunted, and didn’t pick up even when S
ienna turned back to look at him. All right then.
As she headed down the hall, Cyperus gave a shout of pain. “What the fuck?” Gentiana had kicked him, maybe. Sienna appreciated the sentiment more than she really should have, even though there was no point to it. She hugged her arms across her chest as she strode blindly for a hallway with several unclaimed rooms on her internal map.
She was so close to home now. She could concentrate on that.
***
Sienna tried to tell herself that she lingered under the covered walkway out to the supply ship, dribbles of droplets forming curtains to either side, because she was savoring the feeling of having no need for stealth, every right to stand tall in this place. Really, though, it was because she wished Cyperus would come to say goodbye. While she desperately hoped he wouldn’t come to say goodbye, because maybe that would be cleaner.
She adjusted the strap of the duffel of gifted clothing and sundries—in the closed system of the complex, some things were undoubtedly Isachne’s, but Gentiana pretended none were, and Sienna preferred it that way herself—and offered Gentiana an uneven smile. “If you want to get out of here too, now’s your chance.” Not really serious, of course.
“No, even when they release us, I’d rather stay with Pen. She might need an advocate.” Gentiana lifted her hands, dropped them, and clasped her opposite elbows instead. Sienna recognized the gesture, and closed the hug as thanks for Gentiana letting her be the one to initiate it. Whatever had happened since, she still sometimes saw an echo of Gentiana’s movement to kick her in some innocent shift of position. “For all you did for us, thanks,” the woman murmured into her ear, squeezed a last time, then released her.
And wearing a Pax Romana dress uniform. She hadn’t realized the intelligence rank transferred, or maybe it didn’t, she had no idea about Pax Romana insignia and damn. The cut flattered him. She made a sound approximately like “guh,” the breathiness of which she was going to blame on the paralyzer damage to her vocal range.
Gentiana, damn her too, laughed.
He stopped a little before her, and grinned. “Sorry, I lost track of time negotiating. They were willing to drop us off early, so we can catch a direct flight to Idyll, rather than going toward the core and hopping back out, but they were going to insist we do it in cargo seats. I squandered a bunch of favors I won’t be needing anymore to talk them into a cabin.”
Us. We. Joy rocketed up through Sienna’s stomach, meeting the heavy fog of disappointment she’d been swathed in for the past few days, mixing, and curdling. She was so happy, yet so fucking exasperated. She stepped into Cyperus, but only to play-punch him in the stomach. “How long since you decided? Universal mercy, you couldn’t have put me out of my misery early, and told me you’d changed your mind before the absolutely barest last second?”
Not the reaction Cyperus had expected, clearly, but this time he rolled with it rather than freezing. He caught her hands, but didn’t really restrain them in case she had more punches in her. “I wanted to get it all arranged. As kind of an…apology gift, I guess.”
Gentiana wasn’t actively laughing any longer, but she was looking just as smirky as Pen had sounded. “Take it from me, the married one, that small things like listening consistently trump grand gestures every single time. Stop being such a fucking show-off.”
Cyperus dropped his head. “All right. I’ll own it. I didn’t listen to you properly. I’m sorry.” He changed his grip, clasping her hands separately now, searched her face. “But Pen played it back for me, and you never did say you wanted me to come with you. Why couldn’t you trust me enough to believe that I might think you’re worth it? Or at least believe there was enough chance of that for it to be worth asking?”
He was correct, of course. And she’d never realized. “I guess I’m—at the camp, I got out of practice with trust—” She couldn’t stop herself now, she disengaged his hands so she could cling to him in the tightest embrace she could manage. “I promise to work on it.” She could add it to her list for counseling.
“Me too,” he rumbled, and his arms settled tight over her hips and up her back. A few more seconds assuring herself he was really real, really coming with her, and she reluctantly tugged back. They’d better get going, or the supply pilot would leave them behind.
Unjust Theft
Part I
Prague Sienna pounded across the permeable hard surface of the Amsterdam Institute’s spacefield toward the recently landed spaceship, mind racing just as fast in trying to figure out what was going on. The ship was a small runabout, though it was large enough to allow burst travel. Its type could take half a dozen people halfway across the known universe, if they stopped to refuel often enough. This one had—apparently—not come that far in distance, but certainly that far across political divides, leaving Pax Romana territory for the independent planet of Idyll.
Penstemon said through Sienna’s implant, but it made no more sense now than when Pen had summoned her to the spacefield. Pen was an AI based in a building, days of travel from here, even by burst.
Pen’s call had reached them over an early breakfast, before both of them headed to work, and the spring sunrise was only now lightening the overcast skies at the horizon. They weren’t far off winter so the air had a bite against her cheeks, and she was grateful for the heavy coat she’d thrown on. She looked behind Cyperus to where the Institute’s security was gathering and cranked up the zoom along with the low-light enhancement her implant was granting her. As she’d expected, they were still hanging back to gather more information; the Institute got enough refugees that their security was trained to ask questions before shooting. They weren’t going to stop any fools who wanted to run straight up to the strange ship, though.
The ship’s main ramp lowered and there was Gentiana at the top, clinging to the side of the entrance and looking like death. Literally, to Sienna’s eyes—given the delicate sharpness to the woman’s features, the sallow tinge to her light brown skin, and the way her long, black hair straggled out of a decaying tail, if Sienna had been drawing Gentiana, she would have portrayed her as a mortally wounded warrior queen.
Then Gentiana was falling and Sienna lunged up to catch her. Pulling the woman’s arm over her shoulder gave her a close-up view of the central false note in her historical imagining, the shimmery red-orange data paths that starte
d at circles at Gentiana’s temples and continued as lines down the sides of her face, over the corners of her jaw, and down her neck. The woman had definitely had an implant installed since Sienna had seen her last, about a standard year ago; the data paths—or rave lines, Sienna still thought that was a better description when they weren’t set to color-match the skin—gave the implant its outside connections, at the temples for a piloting harness and on the pads of the first two fingers for other equipment.
At the moment, Gentiana’s natural skin around the data paths at the templates was noticeably inflamed. Cyperus pushed himself to a jog for the last fifty meters or so, apparently conquering his pride sufficiently to reveal his hitched and uneven gait. “Piloting fatigue,” he said, then repeated himself on a wider channel for the security forces.
Gentiana got her head up, but seemed unable to focus properly. “Pen said she would, but she couldn’t. Not when she was trying to adjust to being so small. The implant…did most of it for me.” Cyperus had spoken to her in Lingua, but she answered in the version of French used by Libertad Sans Frontiers, the Pax Romana’s dire enemies, without seeming to realize it. That was a textbook sign of having used an implant to quick-learn a language very recently, which raised the urgent question of why Gentiana had thought she’d need it. Sienna only understood her because the language had been pre-loaded, as it were, on her own implant when that had been inflicted on her.
In fact, Gentiana’s situation—staggering in, trying to hold herself together—brought Sienna’s situation a year ago very much to the front of her mind. Idyll was neutral in the war between LSF and the Pax Romana, but LSF had captured Sienna by mistake, held her in a POW camp until they’d accidentally killed Isachne, a Pax Romana agent they needed for a prisoner exchange. So they’d shoved the dead woman’s implant into Sienna’s head and passed her off as Isachne, leaving Sienna to stagger into a Pax Romana facility, trying to hold herself together while scraps of a dead woman seeped into her mind from the implant.