Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  Dashiel started to protest again, because Adlai really wasn’t getting the message here, but his friend held up a hand to forestall the protest.

  “I tell you what. I’ll issue a witness protection order for her, and she can appear under cloak of anonymity. Security won’t be able to touch her, and there will be no official record of her appearance. No Advisor beyond the two of us will ever know she was there.”

  “And if the Guides protest the anonymity order?”

  “You know they have the right to revoke it, but I don’t see why they would—not once they hear her story. Nowhere will she be safer than on the Platform. Dashiel, they have to be told about this.”

  Adlai was making a fair amount of sense, from an objective point of view. Trouble was, the Justice Advisor was the only objective one on the playing field. “I’ll try to convince her, but no promises. How long do I have?”

  “They said promptly, so…maybe six hours? I’ll have the protective order ready in two.”

  “Right. I’d better get moving.” He headed for the door, then stopped to turn back. “I appreciate the help. I know you’re at the edge of your comfort zone here.”

  Adlai sighed heavily. “My comfort zone left for safer environs several exits before this one.”

  Once the door closed behind Dashiel, Adlai dropped his elbows on his desk and fisted his hands at his chin. He hadn’t been exaggerating—his comfort zone was firmly in his rear view mirror. But he hadn’t dared to share the primary reason for it.

  He hadn’t told Dashiel about the rescinding of the augment confiscation and quarantine order, though it was certainly relevant information. Dashiel would have been…displeased, to say the least, and Adlai didn’t feel up to verbally defending the Guides’ order or his following of it. He was able to justify the decision in the sanctity of his own mind, only barely, but justifying it to another person, much less one as logic-driven and stubborn as his friend, was a different matter.

  He’d have to tell Dashiel eventually, of course, but he’d save that storm for another day.

  What could possibly be threatening the very existence of the Dominion? What could it possibly have to do with reducing the size of the criminally inclined population through an insidious virutox? Had some cosmic god appeared on the scene to judge the virtuousness of their civilization? It was an absurd concept, but it made as much sense as any other explanation.

  Ultimately, it didn’t—couldn’t—matter for him. He didn’t make the rules; he enforced them. He executed on the will of the people, as expressed in the Charter and shepherded by the Guides. When the latter two conflicted, the Guides’ wisdom must win out, because they were the moral compass of the Dominion.

  If he began to doubt them, then he had no compass. He was lost.

  So he would continue to believe in their ability to lead everyone through whatever this crisis was now looming over the Dominion. He would believe in their ability to protect Nika—once his friend, now revealed as a victim of the most heinous of crimes. That an Advisor could have been psyche-wiped and the crime itself erased as thoroughly as her mind was surely another sign of society’s creeping slide into chaos.

  He didn’t look forward to arresting one of his fellow Advisors for the crime—he didn’t look forward to learning one of his fellow Advisors was so abhorrent of a person as to commit the crime—but when the evidence came to light, he wouldn’t hesitate to do his duty and exact justice on behalf of his friend.

  Heartened by the recognition that he had been presented with an opportunity to do genuine, unmitigated good, he straightened up and began creating the framework necessary for her to feel safe again.

  42

  * * *

  “I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough yet to tell if you’re joking or have developed a nasty operational glitch and orphaned your reason.”

  Dashiel stared at Nika, and for a moment words failed him. It truly was possible he no longer knew her well enough to figure out how to get through to her reasoning mind. “Neither. I’m being serious.”

  “Then, no. End of line.”

  Her expression closed down, lending her features a harder edge than he ever remembered her being capable of displaying. Of course the last day had not been kind to her, but he wondered if the intervening five years hadn’t always been kind to her, either. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want his pity, but he could try for a higher form of empathy. Perhaps if he made it through the current battle intact.

  They were back at the harbor, standing only a few meters from where they’d met what already felt like a generation ago. He’d suggested they meet at his office—because he really should get to his office at some point soon—but she’d declined, saying it would take too long. There was going to be plenty for them to argue about as it was, so he hadn’t argued with her on that point. He needed the goodwill capital.

  “How’s Perrin doing?”

  “She’ll be fine.” Nika offered him a weak smile. “I didn’t thank you properly for your help yesterday. It was a dangerous and volatile situation, and you could have bolted or cowered, but you didn’t. I realize it didn’t seem like it at the time, but it meant a lot that you were there for me when I needed you.”

  “I thought you said I wasn’t needed.” He wanted to take it back the instant he said it; bitterness was proving to be a wildly destructive aspect for him to wear.

  She didn’t lash out in return, however, instead sighing and staring out at the harbor. “I was wrong. I was wrecked and heartbroken and angry, and I was wrong.”

  A tiny portion of the wound she’d inflicted at The Chalet knitted itself back together. “You’re forgiven. Does Joaquim still believe I was responsible?”

  “No. We know what happened. It was our fault, if only through negligence. And the virutox’s fault.”

  “Are you serious?”

  She nodded. “Anyway, I have a home to patch up and a lot of people to take care of, so I’m sure you understand why I don’t have time to play dress up and go kiss our royals’ rings.”

  “That’s not exactly what I have in mind. Look, here’s my thinking: with all backups of your memories and your psyche gone, the only place where you stand a chance of finding answers is in the data vault at Mirai Tower. The Guides keep nex-networked copies of their most important records in their towers on each Axis World. Now, security is extremely robust at Mirai Tower, but this opportunity allows you to bypass most of it. The invitation represents your ticket inside.”

  She glanced at him askance. “And you think once I’m inside, security is going to simply let me stroll into the secure data vault and poke around?”

  “No, but I assume you have ways to get in…surreptitiously.”

  She chuckled; it was the first sign of levity she’d displayed since she arrived, and he thought it sounded more genuine than sarcastic. “ ‘Ways.’ Yes, as the leader of a rebellion, I have ‘ways.’ ”

  “Excellent. So I say we show up early enough to give you time to deploy your…ways. Then, depending on what you find, when we meet with the Guides you can either maintain your cover, ask for their help or confront them with your identity and your evidence.”

  “On the fly? I don’t like leaving so much to last-second calls.”

  “I agree it’s risky. But you don’t seem to mind taking risks, and we’ve been handed what could be the best chance we’ll ever have to discover what happened five years ago and who orchestrated it.”

  She prevaricated, pacing along the railing then circling back to him. “I told you, exposing and stopping the spread of the virutox takes priority, and that’s truer now, after the explosion, than it has ever been. As much as I want to know what happened to me and why, it needs to wait. Even if that means it waits forever.”

  “This audience is about the virutox. We’re guaranteed to learn something from it, thus advancing both goals in a single meeting.”

  “Don’t you think it’s suspicious that the Guides want to hear the detai
ls of how we uncovered it? The relevant fact here is that it was deliberately planted in consumer augments. What does it matter how it was found?”

  “Yes. I do think it’s suspicious. Which, if you want to extrapolate out a bit further and posit that the Guides themselves are involved in something nefarious, means it’s even more likely your answers are in their records.”

  Her nose scrunched up into a flustered, wanted-to-be-annoyed countenance. A tiny hint of the old Nika. “Dammit, you make entirely too astute of a point. But if you extrapolate a tiny bit further from there, then you’re escorting me straight into an ambush—into the lair of the enemy—with little ability for me to defend myself. I won’t be a lamb led to the slaughter.”

  He laughed at the ridiculousness of the notion—then choked it off under the weight of her glare. “So defend yourself. Bring cleverly hidden weapons, load up on protective barriers and wear a wingsuit—though if you decide to leave in the same manner as you left my office, keep in mind that the Platform is in space.”

  She rolled her eyes in a brief display of amusement, then stepped closer and placed a hand over his. “And what about you? If they can’t capture me, I’ve no doubt they’ll settle for you in the short term.”

  He closed his eyes, breathing in her presence and reveling in the feel of her skin against his. He’d been wrong last night, and also right; metals and machines had their value, but her touch was worth any price.

  When he reopened them, he smiled. “I have centuries of experience at talking my way out of edge situations.”

  “Edge business situations.”

  “Those can be the most perilous kind.” He kissed her softly, and once his lips met hers he had to fight to resist the urge to kiss her far from softly. “I’ll be fine.”

  She sighed against his lips. “Okay. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Gather all your gear and tools and anything else you require to pull off your ‘ways,’ and come with me.”

  She drew back from his embrace. “And you’re certain you’re not trying to convince me to go through with this just so you can cover your own ass and stay in the Guides’ good graces?”

  He exhaled in frustration as her intrinsic tendency toward suspicion flared yet again. Whiplash.

  Was he hoping to find an all-around winning outcome, one where he was saved from making hard choices? Yes. Would he advocate for this course of action if he didn’t believe it was the best choice for her as well? No.

  “I’m certain. I can conjure a convincing story to excuse your absence if I must—see the aforementioned gift of smooth talk. This is for you…and for us.”

  She stared off into the distance, at the harbor or maybe at nothing, for several seconds. “How long do I have?”

  “Four hours, give or take.” Maris was going to string him up by his toes for it, but she was going to have to wait a while longer to see Nika; he could not complicate the situation any further right now.

  She nodded. “All right. I need to prepare, not to mention check on everyone at The Chalet, so I’ll meet you somewhere downtown when it’s time. And send me the anonymity layer information as soon as you get it. Also, I downloaded a basic schematic from the city registry, but I need a detailed and labeled layout of Mirai Tower.”

  “I’ll take you to the right data vault.”

  “We might get separated. A thousand things large and small might go wrong. No plan survives contact with the enemy, and I need to be able to adapt if the Guides are that enemy and it all goes sideways.”

  Nika proceeded through a series of stops on her hastily created checklist with a speed and efficiency borne of hyper-focused purpose. In other words, she didn’t allow herself to dwell on all the reasons why this was a profoundly terrible idea.

  Though she hadn’t admitted it to Dashiel, he’d spun a persuasive scenario that reawakened the glimmer of hope her visit to Rivers Trust had crushed. For all her high-minded talk of subsuming her personal desires to the needs of the greater good, the seductive prospect of answers—real answers—about her psyche-wipe now had her firmly in its clutches.

  First she strode into Joaquim’s room, interrupting his work rebuilding one of the testing servers because she didn’t have time to wait on him to take a break. “I’m claiming two more simmed ID sets.”

  “You’ve used up almost all of the new supply already.”

  “I need them more than everyone else does. Nature of the job.”

  “True.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m going to tell you no. Can I ask what you plan to use them for?”

  “You can ask, but trust me, you don’t want to know.” She should tell him, but the argument that was certain to result would take too damn long.

  “Right then. Don’t be stupid. We can’t lose anybody else right now.”

  She jerked a nod. “Noted.” Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid. Am I being stupid?

  Next she found Ryan downstairs applying sealant to one of the patched up pillars.

  “I need to borrow your security override and infiltration routines. They’re better than mine.”

  “Sure.” He motioned her over to his private alcove—it didn’t technically belong to him, but everyone treated it as if it did.

  The outer partition of the alcove had protected his pets from the worst of the destruction. IkeBot stood silently in the corner, and WheatleyBot rested on the desk, plugged into a programming module. PeterBot was nowhere to be seen, which before the explosion would have meant impending hijinks. Now, she didn’t know what it meant.

  “If you’ll tell me what you’re hitting, I can fine-tune the routines for the job.”

  She hesitated. “An official government data vault, so the highest level of security. Oh, and Justice has started to identify several tells in the slices we use, so…mix things up a little?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like heavy stuff. You’re not taking a team?”

  She shook her head. “It’s safer if I do this alone.”

  “Safer for us, right? No guarantees, but if anything can get you past the security barriers, these routines can. Give me fifteen minutes?”

  “Take twenty, as I have a few more stops to make. And thank you.”

  “No problem. You won’t fuck it up, whatever it is.”

  “Here’s hoping.” She headed to the far end of The Floor, where she found Perrin in the combat training room helping one of the newer members, Josie, sort the damaged weapons from the working ones.

  She cleared her throat in the doorway, and they both looked up. “Perrin, can I borrow you for a minute?”

  “Of course.” She glanced over at Josie. “Just set aside any you’re not sure about.”

  Josie nodded, and Perrin hurried over to the doorway. “I talked to Roqe this morning, and they gave me—”

  “Tell me later.” She placed a hand on Perrin’s back and nudged her toward the stairs. “How are you feeling? It looks like you’ve dived right back into work.”

  “I’m good. Too good to be lying around on my ass while everyone else is working.”

  “If you’re sure. Listen, I need a copy of the base program you use to play chameleon with your hair, and a couple of your simpler routines for it. I know I can download stock for it, but yours are so much better.”

  Perrin touched a hand to her hair wearing an expression of mock outrage. It was uncombed and pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, leading Nika to wonder how much better her friend was genuinely feeling.

  “I’m shocked you think the transformation is somehow false.”

  Better enough to be snarky, anyway. “Come on, I don’t have time for games today.”

  Perrin dropped all pretense of melodrama. “Oh, crap, you sound stressed. I don’t know if I can stand any more badness—but tell me the truth—”

  She grabbed Perrin by the shoulders to cut short the exclamations. “Calm down. I promise I will fill you in later, but right now I have no time. Will you help me?”

  “Absolutely. D
ark hair like yours, you shouldn’t mess with the pastels. Stick to jewel tones and browns. I’m sending you routines for crimson, a fabulous indigo and a boring mahogany with black streaks.”

  “Thank you. I doubt I’ll wear them as smashingly as you, but thank you.” She started to leave, but paused and turned back. “We get past all this craziness, maybe you can show me some of your fancier techniques—especially that waterfall ripple you had going on last week?”

  Perrin’s face lit up in pride. “You bet. We’ll have you looking like a star goddess in no time. Dashiel will lose his mind, then his pants.”

  She laughed with what she hoped was sufficient enthusiasm and headed for her room.

  Ryan sent her his security override routines eight minutes ahead of schedule, after which she reviewed the various routines and overlays she’d collected and added them to her own. Then she loaded and sorted them into a flexible queue and began formulating a plan.

  43

  * * *

  Nika found Dashiel sipping on an iced tea while lounging against an ornate decorative fence outside the eatery where they were meeting.

  She paused on the sidewalk to take note of the elements at play here. How the position of his forearm atop the fence, the set of his shoulders and the slightly lifted angle of his chin combined to create an air of aloof confidence. How a tingly warmth blossomed in her chest on seeing him. Clearly, his ‘buffed and polished’ style was growing on her.

  The search algorithms she’d set to hunt for anomalous behavioral processes on which she could place the blame had flagged a couple of fuzzy logic clouds for closer examination; depending on what the world looked like a few hours from now, she might get around to taking a look at them. But she couldn’t deny reality: no matter the trigger, the warmth was genuine.

  She slithered up behind him, placed a hand against the base of his spine and leaned in to murmur in his ear. “Is this spot taken?”