We reached the Emerald City, and the bright green light from the sign lit up her face.
“What are you looking at?” she asked me playfully.
“Have you ever been here before?” I asked, changing the topic.
She opened the door and led me inside. “Yes, but I was working then.”
What did she mean by that, exactly? That she was tracking a target, asking questions of the people who worked here? Or that she was up on the roof with her sniper rifle?
She laughed. “I’m kidding, Tycho. Come on, they have booths in the back.”
She led me through the dimly lit bar and we sat down across from each other. A waitress came over, smiled when she saw us, and chirped, “You two are cute! What can I get for you?”
“You hear that, Tycho?” asked Raven. “You’re cute now.”
“I’m pretty sure she was talking about you. I’ll have a whiskey neat, please.”
“Tycho, this is a cocktail bar. Not a gang dive in Sif. You have to order a cocktail.”
“I’m sure they have cocktails where the main ingredient is whiskey. Right?”
“Sure,” said the waitress. “I can get you a Casablanca Sunset.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Raven held up two fingers in a V-shape. “Make it two.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back with those.”
The waitress went off to fetch our drinks, and Raven cocked her head at me. “Why do you do that?”
“Why do I do what?”
“Pretend you’re dumb.”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s about fitting in. Or feeling like I don’t fit in.”
“You mean this place, because it’s a fancy cocktail bar? Or in Section 9?”
I was starting to get the impression that Raven hadn’t just asked me out for drinks because she wanted to spend a night out with me.
“I meant the bar, but we can talk about Section 9 if you really want to.”
She grinned. “So you figured me out. Let’s wait for our drinks first. I don’t think there’s much point in talking about anything until we’re slightly lit.”
“Agreed. I’ll just stare at you awkwardly until we’re both quite tipsy, and then we can talk about work.”
“You’re such a weirdo, Tycho.”
The waitress came back and handed me a glass of something roughly the color of whiskey, but with swirls of red in it.
Raven held her glass up. “Cheers!”
We clinked glasses, then Raven took a long swallow. “Ah, that’s much better!”
I sipped my drink, then decided I liked the flavor enough to take a swallow myself. Whatever was in it, the drink was strong. I felt it immediately in my head, like I was almost flying.
“Holy shit.”
“I know, right? That’s what they’re known for here. So, I’ll just say it plainly, Tycho. They sent you to Mars for a reason. It wasn’t just to question Geoffrey Rosenstein.”
“I see.” I had another careful sip, not sure how I was expected to respond.
“You’re not at all curious?”
“Of course I’m curious.”
“Don’t get tense on me, we’re out here to relax tonight. You and I are going to have plenty of drinks, and maybe even dance a little, but we have to talk about this first. The more easy you are about it, the quicker that will be.”
“I’m fine, Raven, really. If you have something to tell me, you can go ahead and tell me.”
She leaned forward and looked into my eyes, long enough that I wanted to say something to break the silence. She must have found the words she was looking for, or maybe the confidence in that I was really as calm as I’d said.
She continued, “After the last trip to Mars—the big one, I mean—the Operator was questioning Andrea’s recommendation to bring you into the family.”
Raven hadn’t been with us for that particular mission, which was probably why Andrea had picked her to break this news to me. She was the only member of the team who didn’t have any personal reason to question my actions on Mars.
“That doesn’t surprise me. I got involved in a street fight. Something that didn’t have anything to do with our mission.”
“I know all about it, Tycho. You can tell me the whole story if you want to, but that’s not the reason I’m bringing it up.”
“Well, what is?”
My Casablanca Sunset was already half gone. How had that happened?
“I wanted you to know that Andrea stood up to the old man on your behalf. She gave him pushback, and that’s not an easy thing to do.”
“No, I don’t imagine it would be.”
The Operator was the man in charge of Section 9—the whole organization, not just our team. I had only met him once, traveling to the fringe of the system to do it. As far I knew, he lived on Sedna, a tiny planetoid so far out it goes around the sun once every 11,400 years. The Operator was like that—distant, anonymous, barely present in day to day life, but always on the periphery.
“Do you get what I’m saying here, Tycho?”
Raven was peering at me while sipping her drink. From the look on her face, she was wondering whether I was too stupid to pick up on her implications, or too drunk, or just not paying attention.
“Spell it out for me, Raven. Let’s just say I’m too drunk to follow you.”
She laughed a little at that. “These drinks aren’t that strong. I’m saying our boss has your back, Tycho. Which means you’re one of us. Which means you can stop worrying and stressing so much. Just—”
“Just don’t jump off any more buildings or get into any more unassigned firefights with giant cyborgs.”
She grinned. “I’m so glad we understand each other.”
“I wonder if we do, though.”
The grin disappeared. “And why is that?”
“Well, I know Andrea likes me well enough. We’ve always been friendly. What I don’t understand is why she would go to bat for me like that. I mean, I did it. The mission was to exfiltrate the package from East Hellas, right? Well, we had him and we were taking him out of there. No one was paying any attention to us right at that moment. The mission was a mess, but we were getting away. And then I threw myself into this firefight on the street. I had no orders to get involved in that fight. So why would she stick her neck out for me? I mean, I had no justification at all for what I did.”
“You’ve got a weird side to your personality, Tycho.”
“What do you mean?”
The lights in The Emerald City were all different shades of green, and the effect was starting to look positively surreal. A monochrome world with little stars and diamonds and triangles, and all those bright shapes spinning around and around while a beautiful woman bathed in teal is telling you you’re weird. What does “weird” even mean in a context like that?
Right at that moment, a new song came over the nightclub’s speakers. Something fast, aggressive, and sexy all at once, and Raven perked up as soon as she heard it. “Hold that thought, Tycho. I love this song!”
Quicker than I could even respond, she slipped out of the booth and headed straight for the dance floor. I turned and followed her with my eyes, sipping at my drink while she started moving. She didn’t need any time to get into the music; she dove in like she’d been there dancing all night. For the three or four minutes the song lasted, Raven was in another place entirely. I couldn’t see for sure from where I sat, but I had the impression her eyes were closed.
Even so, she didn’t bump into any of the other dancers, not even the obnoxious guy swinging his arms around like he was trying to hit someone. She spun away from his fist, bringing an elbow up in the same movement. A moment later, she spun just a little too close to him and messed his rhythm up. The guy tripped and almost fell, but she caught him by the small of his back. Then she turned away again and danced several feet away from him until the song was over. When she came back to the booth, she winked at me.
“That wasn’t a
n accident,” I commented.
“Of course not.” She picked up her drink, had a long sip, then leaned back and regarded me curiously. “Didn’t you have a question for me?”
“It was more like you had something to say to me. A weird side to my personality?”
“Don’t take it too personally, it wasn’t an insult or anything like that. I just mean you aren’t telling the whole story about what happened on Mars. You know I wasn’t there, and you know I’ve heard everyone else’s version of what happened. Why not tell me your story? The story that’s real to you. Otherwise, all I have to go on is everyone else’s version.”
“What’s everyone else’s version?”
“Well, in the Andrew Jones version, you just like fighting so much that you decided to endanger the whole team so you could get in one extra round. With the biggest cyborg chimeras you could find. And without even warning everyone.”
“That’s not exactly fair. I told him why I did it.”
“You told Jones, but you can’t tell me?”
“Of course I can tell you. Those chimeras were killing the protesters. Regular citizens, civilians. I couldn’t just watch it and do nothing, so I jumped down to help.”
Raven stared at me in silence again, but this time she was smiling at me. “That’s what I like about you, Tycho,” she said. “You’re a killer like me, but there’s this sweet little boy inside and you can’t let that go. The big bad robots are hurting innocent people, so Tycho Barrett attacks the robots. Doesn’t even think about it, just goes right in. Maybe that’s what Andrea was talking about.”
“What?”
Raven looked past me and waved to our waitress for another round of drinks.
“She told the Operator she saw something in you,” she said, taking my hand and looking into my eyes. “I have to admit, Tycho, I see it too.”
5
When I woke the next morning, my head felt like it was trapped in a vise with my brains pouring out of my ears. I opened my eyes slightly and winced away from the painful light of the sun. A moment later, the light grew stronger and more painful as someone threw open the curtains in my room.
“Please stop,” I groaned.
“I gave you the night off, Tycho, not the next day.” Andrea Capanelli’s voice sounded vaguely amused, but fully unsympathetic.
“What time is it?”
“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Come on, there’s coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t going to fix this hangover, Andrea. Just execute me now. Throw my body in some alley somewhere. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Have a shower first, you’ll feel better for it. Then come eat. Thomas is eager to share what he learned with us.”
“Thomas. Right. Great start to the day.”
Andrea laughed. “Fifteen minutes, Barrett.” Her voice trailed off as she went back out into the living room. “Timer’s started.”
I stared at the ceiling. My eyes burned and the world spun, but eventually I managed to get my feet beneath me. Ten minutes later, I shuffled over to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, while Jones grinned at me from the living room couch. Raven Sommer, of course, looked fresh and cheerful. “Morning, Tycho!” she called out, a slight smirk on her face.
“Perk up, Barrett,” Veraldi ordered. He was cooking eggs. “Take a plate. I have breakfast for you.”
I pulled a plate from the kitchen cabinet and held it out in front of me while sipping my coffee. My stomach growled when I smelled the eggs, so maybe my body still had some life in it.
“Thanks, Veraldi.”
“That’s a three-egg omelet with Gouda and Muenster, so show it some respect.”
“Yes, sir.” I half-saluted with my cup as I turned and walked back to the living room. I took a seat on an empty chair and put my plate down on an ottoman. From the empty mugs and half-empty glasses here and there, it seemed everyone else had already eaten.
Andrea came back out of her room. “Tycho. I’m glad you could finally join us.”
“Mmm.” I took a bite of the omelet. Sausages, mushrooms, and onions. I didn’t know why, but until then I had assumed it wouldn’t be very good.
Seeing that I wasn’t going to give her any more of a response than that, Andrea went to Thomas’s door and knocked. “Thomas? We’re ready for you.” He made some reply, but I couldn’t hear what it was. I wasn’t really paying attention. The only thing I cared about at that moment was getting enough coffee and omelet into my body so that I could come back to life and do my job, whatever that turned out to be.
“He’ll be out in a minute,” Andrea told the room, sitting down next to me. “Did you two have fun last night?”
“Nothing but fun,” said Raven. “Tycho here is a beast.”
Andrea threw me a skeptical look. “A beast, huh? He looks more like a sick dog right about now.”
“The natural consequence.” Veraldi came into the room with a plate for himself. “How’s the omelet, Barrett?”
“Mmm.”
Jones laughed. “It’s a good thing Tycho doesn’t have to present anything.”
“He’ll be fine,” Andrea told him. “He just needs caffeine and hydration.”
“That reminds me…” I picked up my coffee and downed almost half of it in one long swallow.
Thomas Young came out of his room as I returned to my omelet. He wasn’t carrying any notes this time, and he wasn’t acting like he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. His face was serious, though that was typical if he wasn’t glowering at someone or something. “Ready, Capanelli?”
She looked up. “Ready when you are, Thomas. Did you remember your notes this time?”
“I don’t need them. If you’re ready, I’ll start. I see Veraldi and Barrett are still eating.”
She waved her hand in my direction as if to dismiss me. “Don’t worry about that. Tycho has a hangover and Veraldi cooked. I’m sure they can both give you their full attention.”
He frowned. “Very well. I will make my report, and if either of them is unable to recall a detail, they can always ask you later.”
Veraldi raised his mug in salute, then had a sip.
“I was right to think that those components were what I needed to read Huxley’s storage banks,” said Thomas. “I have now recovered a substantial portion of Huxley’s memory.”
“Is it just me,” asked Jones, “or is there something really creepy about all this?”
Raven cocked her head to the side. “Reading an android’s memory is creepy?”
“He wasn’t just an android.” Veraldi put his plate down on the table and pushed it away from him. “He was a man, once.”
“Yes, but still.” She shrugged. “It’s really just reading an android’s long-term storage banks. Right, Thomas?”
“Not quite, I’m afraid. Not at all. The complexity of this android’s storage banks is much, much greater than anything you may be familiar with. Huxley Industries was producing androids far in advance of what other companies would describe as cutting edge.”
“As interesting as that may be,” said Andrea, “let’s focus on the main point here. You’ve recovered Huxley’s memories?”
“I haven’t recovered all of them, but I have recovered a substantial portion of his recent memories.”
“So, what are we talking about exactly?” asked Andrew. “Grocery lists? Girlfriend’s summer home?”
Thomas was not amused by that comment. “Not at all, Jones. If that’s the sort of information that interests you, you’ll have to examine the data yourself. I do have to warn you, though, that there has been significant damage to the data banks. You may be searching for quite some time before—”
“Easy there, Young,” Veraldi warned him. “Jones was only being a dick. What did you find?”
Andrew shrugged, as if to say, who, me?
Thomas drew himself up and recited what he had for us in a clipped voice. “I have identified information suggesting a private ship curre
ntly docked on Llyr Station, Europa is a target of interest.”
“A private ship?” asked Andrea. “So a yacht? A pleasure vessel?”
“Not exactly, although I suppose it could function as one. Based on what I’ve seen in Huxley’s memories, I would describe it more as a business vessel, though it doesn’t seem to have been associated with any of the legitimate business interests of any of the people to have used it.”
“You’re talking in riddles, now,” Jones grumbled.
Thomas threw him an irritated look. “Only if you insist on interpreting everything in simplistic terms. The ship is registered, via shell corporation, to David Kote.”
“Okay, now that is interesting,” Jones conceded. “Isn’t that the same industrialist Tycho just connected with the human trafficking?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” I nodded. “Rosenstein said his human trafficking connections all worked for Kote.”
“Then we’re finally getting somewhere on this damn case!” Andrea sat up. “Huxley had memories of Kote?”
“Yes.” Thomas ran his hand through his hair. “Julian Huxley’s memories indicate that Huxley and Kote met regularly prior to Huxley’s transition to his new body.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate here,” Andrew interjected, “but they were both really rich. Don’t rich people usually hang out with each other? Fundraisers, charity events, and so on?”
“Broadly speaking, yes.” Thomas’s tone of voice was disdainful. Though, to be fair, his tone of voice was usually disdainful. “But they still have their own circles, even if those circles occasionally overlap. Are you assuming I wouldn’t have checked that?”
“I can’t believe you had the time,” Raven muttered.
Thomas turned to her. “Of course I did. I made the time. Otherwise, what value could this report have had?”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense!” Jones stretched his legs out and put his hands behind his head. “Are they in the same circles, or aren’t they?”
“Statistically, they are not. Under regular circumstances, they would run into each other socially only once every five years or so. Essentially, their business and social interests were unrelated.”
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