The light-haired man held Grant’s stare for several seconds—then broke off and rejoined his partner. “If you hear from Mr. Ridani, or if he returns here, with or without the ship, please contact us immediately.”
Grant received a contact file at his business nex address, and he nodded curtly. “I’ll make a point to try and remember. Have a good rest of your day.”
He watched the men until they were off his property and back on the public street, then went inside. He hoped like hells he wouldn’t need to use them, but it was time to dust off his contingency plans.
Justice Advisor Blake Satair waited until they were beyond line-of-sight of Mesahle Flight before stopping on the deserted sidewalk and turning to his officer, Kent Freitag. “Well? Were you able to get the listeners planted?”
Kent nodded, but it lacked the desired conviction. “The stealthed drone wasn’t able to find a way inside the main building, but it placed audio-visual sensors on the windows on both sides. I also secured two listeners on the factory floor.”
Blake glanced back the way they’d come. He’d hoped for more comprehensive surveillance coverage, but if they returned now even a plebian like Grant Mesahle would get suspicious. “Combined with the interceptor we placed on the fiber line running into the property on our way in, that ought to get the job done. If Advisor Ridani shows up or contacts Mr. Mesahle, we need to know about it.”
“Or Ms. Tescarav.”
“Kirumase—I don’t care who Nika’s playing at being this year. Unfortunately, the fact that she was on Namino the same day Ridani came here doesn’t definitively tie her to Mesahle. But it’s damn peculiar, so we’ll be listening and watching for her as well.”
Blake peered down the road toward the maglev station. “Stay in the area long enough to confirm the listeners are transmitting, then meet me in Mirai One. We need to pay a visit to Ridani Enterprises. The Guides have authorized more aggressive monitoring for Ridani’s second-in-command.”
9
* * *
MIRAI
VANCE GRESHE HAD ALWAYS believed himself to be a reasonably smart man. Not an intellectual as such, but clever. Astute. Able to study a complicated situation, spot the problems and devise solutions for them. Hard-working, too. The kind of man who buckled down and toiled over a problem until it was fixed.
None of these positive attributes, it turned out, qualified him to run a multi-world, multi-billion-credit manufacturing company. Dashiel had built the company up from nothing, transformed it into an empire, then managed to keep it not only running but profitable while spending years treating a broken heart with a troublesome illicit substances habit.
Meanwhile Vance was struggling just to digest all the daily reports and respond to the top two or three emergencies on any given day. As Manufacturing Director, he’d thought he had a good grasp on the macro business; he’d been wrong. He’d thought he’d handled a lot of the heavy lifting on Dashiel’s behalf while his boss fought to hold his fraying personal life together, but in truth the man had been managing thousands of details every single day. And Vance never had any idea.
Some people said Advisors weren’t simply the most talented or smartest Asterions—they were something else altogether. That the pinnacle of self-directed evolution resulted in not a difference of degree, but of kind. Post-Asterion, Asterion++…the terms varied, but the idea was the same.
When he interacted with Dashiel, he saw a man. A savvy genius of a man, but a man nonetheless; one with flaws and foibles, like everyone else. Now Vance drowned beneath an avalanche of data and shipments and processes and materials, and they represented only the tip of the iceberg that was Ridani Enterprises. He had to wonder what the man’s mind must be like, to control it all, silently and as a matter of course.
The message he’d received from Dashiel last night had thrown him for yet another loop. He’d known about the limb augment theft, and it had been the source of much of his work in the days before he’d been asked to step into his boss’ shoes. A virutox, though? One deliberately spread to unsuspecting consumers? Who did that sort of thing? He couldn’t help but feel as though something terrible was happening around him, something he lacked the skill to see.
He’d rushed into the office, sent the public statement out and began writing the procedures to handle the refund requests when they started pouring in. He’d been here ever since.
Dammit! He jolted himself out of the reverie. Every second he spent whining over how hard it all was added to the seconds not spent doing the job he’d been entrusted with. And for the moment he was keeping the business afloat, at least. He should keep doing that.
He was two sentences into the daily status report from a factory on Kiyora when the office comm activated. “Director Greshe? There are two men from Justice here to see you.”
“Is one of them Advisor Weiss?” If it was, he might be able to find out a few tidbits on this virutox. Weiss had always struck him as a nice man. Honorable.
“Ah, no sir. They didn’t give their names. Do you want me to ask?”
His lips pursed. If they were here to ask him about the virutox, he didn’t know anything beyond the particulars of the theft itself. If they were here to ask him where Dashiel had run off to, he didn’t know anything about that, either.
Maybe they would believe him, and the meeting would be over in three minutes. “It’s not necessary. Send them in.”
The door opened to allow a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair and a cold visage and a slighter, blond man with somewhat kinder features inside.
He stood and met the two men in front of his desk, hand extended. “Welcome, gentlemen. I’m Vance Greshe. How can I help you today—?”
“Sir, are you feeling ill?”
Vance blinked—had his eyes been open? He sat slouched in his chair at the desk. On the other side of it, Larahle Spicor stood, gazing at him in evident concern.
“Um, I…no, I’m fine. I have a headache, but….” And he really did. The base of his neck ached, as if he’d gotten a new port installed and neglected to activate any pain suppressors during the procedure. “It’s merely from all the stress, I’m sure.”
“I’ll get you some hot tea. Did the meeting with the Justice people go okay?”
The Justice people? Who was she talking about…oh, right. How had it gone? They’d come in, and…he struggled to recall the details of the meeting, like it was a dream fading with the light of day, slipping from his memory even as he grasped for it.
“I think so. They were asking about Dashiel, not surprisingly. I told them everything he told us, which isn’t much. He’s on a personal sabbatical. He checks in via message periodically. Yes, he ordered the issuance of the statement regarding the limb augments. No, I don’t know where he is or when he will return. After I repeated it a couple of times, they seemed to accept it.”
Concern only grew in her expression. “That’s all you discussed? They were in here for almost forty minutes.”
“Were they?” Vance frowned vaguely. “There was a good bit of small talk. I guess they hoped if I loosened up, I might let something slip. Their wasted forty minutes, right?”
“I suppose so.” She studied him scrupulously for another second before turning to go—then stopped and pivoted back toward him. “Did they ever tell you their names?”
“I’m certain they did, but I’ll be damned if I can remember what they were.” He shrugged. “It’s possible I need to go in for a tune-up.”
She planted both hands on the desk and leaned in. “Vance, you don’t need a tune-up—you need to get some rest.”
“I can’t. I owe it to Dashiel to keep this business running.”
“But you need sleep and depri time to do it.”
“I….” He rubbed wearily at his eyes; stars he was tired. “I tell you what. I’ll lock the door behind you and hit the couch for a nap. Good enough?”
“Not even close, but it’s a start.”
10
*
* *
WAYFARER
Mirai
THEY LANDED AT A DRAB, shopworn dock in a small industrial hub on the periphery of Mirai Two. They’d switched up the false credentials of the Wayfarer since Ebisu, as they planned to do every time they landed somewhere that tracked such things. Despite the ship’s small size, they now masqueraded as a cargo vessel, because it was the only type of ship that landed in the industrial hub. They also planned to be gone before anyone came by asking after a cargo manifest.
It didn’t take long before a muffled rapping sound echoed through the hull. “Hello? I’m here.”
They opened the hatch to find Perrin standing beneath it, a bulky bag slung over her shoulder.
“I’m so glad to see you! You got this ship from Grant? It’s gorgeous!”
Nika laughed as she extended the ramp. Perrin promptly ran up it, dropped the bag and grabbed her in a fierce hug. Perrin’s enthusiasm was, as usual, infectious, and Nika found her spirits rising almost instantly.
She pulled back from the hug and picked up the bag before Perrin could retrieve it, then motioned her inside. “You realize it’s only been a few days.”
“Long days.” Perrin shifted toward the hatch and made some kind of sign with her hand before heading inside as the ramp retracted.
“What did you just do?”
“Joaquim’s standing guard outside. That was me saying yes, it’s really you and not…I don’t know. Kidnappers or Guide-controlled doppelgangers or something. He worries.” Her gaze fell on Dashiel, and she abandoned a pained expression for a big grin. “Speaking of which, I’m super glad you’re not evil.”
Dashiel chuckled lightly; he too seemed to cheer in Perrin’s presence. “So am I. It’s good to see you again, and in one fully functional piece this time.”
“I heard you helped me after the explosion at The Chalet. Thank you—and let me apologize on Joaquim’s behalf. He’ll never say it to your face, but he’s sorry about how he acted toward you.”
Nika arched an eyebrow. “Is he?”
“Well…probably.” Perrin gestured toward the bag, which Nika had deposited on the table. “I think we were able to get everything you asked for, except I could only scrounge up three mirage field modules. Dominic’s picking up new ones for NOIR, but he won’t be back until the morning.”
“That’s fine. More than fine.” Nika looked at Dashiel and tilted her head toward the container sitting on the workbench.
He retrieved a data weave from it and presented it to Perrin. “In return, something for you.”
Perrin accepted the weave and placed a fingertip on the scanner to review the index—then she almost dropped the weave on the floor as her cheeks reddened. “This is five hundred thousand credits.”
Dashiel nodded. “It is. Use them for NOIR’s benefit, however you best see fit. And if you need more, let us know.”
Perrin’s gaze darted to Nika, who smiled broadly. “What he said.”
“Stars, with this we can refinish the whole Floor using a non-conductive, pliable top coat. And buy three new high-density servers, because storage space is filling up fast from all the virutox-related code. And get a third repair bench. And remodel the top floor into a nightclub.”
“Those all sound like marvelous ideas—except the last one might be a bit extravagant. We should get past the current crisis before we start expanding our leisure offerings.”
“I’m glad you said ‘we.’ ” Perrin’s wistful countenance darkened into chagrin. “Not that I want to take her away from you, Dashiel.”
“It’s okay. I’ve always had to share her with the world.”
As Nika watched the two of them awkwardly stumble through the interchange, her subconscious processes churned up a messy stew of guilt and regret, then garnished it with a dash of homesickness. She missed The Chalet. She missed her friends. She missed walking The Floor and interacting with the people who brought it to life.
But nothing was simple anymore, was it? If it had ever been. She also craved the freedom the ship gave her. And Dashiel. She didn’t think she could go back to a life without him in it, except he didn’t fit in the old one.
But tomorrow’s complications wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t fix today’s, so she should perhaps get over herself.
Now they were both staring at her, waiting for her to jump in and…be the diplomat. Dammit.
She took one of their hands in each of hers. “Listen, you two. No weeping over me when I’m standing right here. Perrin, go spend this money like it’s going out of style, and tell Joaquim to stop being such a paranoid motherfucker. Well, except when it involves Justice or the Guides. Which reminds me. You all need to know something, but don’t freak out, okay? The virutox is communicable across neural connections. Slightly.”
“What? But that—oh crap, I gave an open connection to Cair when he was infected. Does this mean I caught it? I—”
She grabbed Perrin by both shoulders. “I said don’t freak out. I think we’d know by now if you caught it. That was a week ago, and you seem completely unchanged. Transmission requires high level, active neural interaction.”
“So I’m fine, then. Okay. We need to add a warning against neural interactions to our warning against installing new augments and routines.” Perrin sighed. “People aren’t going to be happy. What’s the point of being if you can’t upgrade yourself with trendy new augments and show them off by connecting with other people?”
“Being alive, in your sane mind and free of shackles?”
“Excellent point. Any more good news?”
Nika shook her head.
“Any more bad news?”
“Only the lack of good news. How about you? How’s everything going?”
Perrin offered up an exaggerated shrug and leaned against the storage cabinet. “We’ve tapped into the public nex web billboards and are using them to warn people about…everything. We’ve been developing a variety of defensive measures people can easily adopt, both to keep virutoxes out and to stay free of Justice’s clutches, and we’re distributing them as fast as we can. Oh, and on the subject of Justice, rumor is they’re actually starting to get the limb augments off the shelves, at least on Mirai. Spencer and his boss are, anyway. I’m not sure about the rest of Justice.”
“So Adlai was telling the truth.” Dashiel visibly relaxed. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Given the man had tried to arrest her in the Mirai Tower data vault, Nika remained skeptical of his intentions. But she recognized how badly Dashiel wanted Adlai to be one of the good guys, and it was a start.
Perrin glanced idly around the cabin. “What’s your next step?”
Nika blew out a breath. “Investigate the sites of the recent outposts hit and see if any clues got left behind. Follow-up on several details Dashiel learned from the Briscanti Materials CEO. Since it appears the Guides aren’t interested in talking, likely take out some more assassins. If all else fails, find Gemina Kail, abduct her and torture her until she gives up all her secrets.”
11
* * *
KIYORA
Asterion Dominion Axis World
THE KIYORA ONE GENERATIONS CLINIC occupied a place of honor in an upscale services sector in the northeast area of the city. The soft cameo marble and opalescent exterior of the building gave it a friendly, inviting appearance despite the relative lack of windows. Perfectly manicured grass led to rows of flowering azaleas, adding color and vivacity to the tableau.
The subliminal message conveyed was that here, life was both embraced and tenderly cared for, in all its forms. Only the best for the creation of Asterion bodies. No expense spared.
Gemina was in no mood to be soothed, and she tromped through the door and up to the lobby counter. “Advisor Gemina Kail. I need to see the facility manager.”
The dyne regarded her blankly. “You do not have an appointment.”
“I’m here on the direct order of the Guides. The facility manager, now.”
&nb
sp; “Please have a seat. Mr. Takeda will be with you in a few minutes.”
“I’ll stand.” She pivoted and began pacing the lobby.
The Guides had taken the news of the absurd increase in the number of units demanded by the Rasu…actually, she had no idea how they’d taken it. Their countenances had remained emotionless, their tones of voice even and lacking affectation. They’d expressed confidence that the spreading virutox would produce a sufficient number of new ‘criminals,’ but also authorized the cleansing of an additional two outposts. Finally, almost as an afterthought, they had suggested she begin investigating what might be involved in producing Asterions straight out of a lab and already in stasis.
It should have been the easiest, most moral solution to the problem from the beginning. Why terminate the lives of living, breathing Asterions in the process of experiencing full lives, when you could use ones who’d yet to draw a breath?
But something about the idea grated against said morality. Gemina had wanted to recoil from the notion the instant it was voiced, as would most Asterions. After all, the only thing they loved more than life itself was the potential of life. The possibilities which every tomorrow held.
To deny someone’s right to ever exist was quite high up on the list of high sins in the Asterion Dominion, alongside psyche-wipes and storage—which meant if the Guides went forward with this idea, she’d be one short of a trifecta.
Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4) Page 37
