Expelled

by Ell Leigh Clarke

Great.

  Jayne stepped into the bathroom. Her bladder was calling. It definitely had to have been a full day of sleeping. “Stars, Merry. I want to relax for a minute.”

  Merry walked over and shut the bathroom door. “You couldn’t close the door before you went?”

  “Does it prevent you from hearing me pee?” Jayne countered.

  “No, but at least it’s a mental barrier. What did you drink, a keg? It sounds like you’re emptying a water reservoir in there.” Jayne didn’t respond. She finished up and dabbed dry, then joined the hacker.

  “Okay, so what did you want to show me?” she demanded, a little more awake now.

  Merry patted the bed. Jayne sat and looked at the screen.

  “Logos,” her companion cried.

  Yup. They were logos. Several different ones, all playing off the initials ISA.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “Logos,” she repeated.

  Jayne rubbed her forehead. “Revision to previous question: why am I looking at logos? Why did you wake me up in the middle of the night to show me logos?”

  Merry gave Jayne a sideways glance. “Middle of the night? It’s eight p.m., Jayne. And they’re the logos for our new spy agency.”

  “Spy agency?” Jayne balked. Shock, the best waking aid in the world, yanked her to full consciousness. “Merry, why the hell would you think we’re a spy agency?”

  “Because we should be one! We’ve got you, and you’re good at all the in-person stuff. And we’ve got me, and I’m good at all the computer stuff. Jayne, we could make serious money doing this.”

  She was right. Merry pushed things considerably faster than Jayne had intended, but the thought of working with her and the others in a private money-making arrangement had occurred to Jayne throughout the crisis. They worked well together and their skill sets complemented one another.

  “If we do this, I have to be the boss, Merry. I’ll defer to you in matters of hacking, but business and client decisions need to be made by me.”

  She bobbed her head up and down enthusiastically. “Fine by me. I figured it would be that way anyway.”

  “I won’t be able to pay you jack until we make money,” Jayne continued. “And I don’t have any credits to bankroll this.”

  “You don’t need to pay me right away, and don’t worry about drumming business up! I’ve set up a page on XaaS and we’ve already got inquiries coming in.”

  “What? Already? How?”

  Clearly proud of herself, Merry admitted, “I may or may not have hinted that we had something to do with apprehending the bombers. Nothing too blatant that we could have to answer for, but enough to paint the picture.”

  So long as she didn’t have to answer for the past few days, Jayne was fine with that. She pointed to the screen. “So what’s ISA, then?”

  “Interstellar Spy Agency. Look, I printed cards.” She pulled out a small stack of cards from her purse.

  Interstellar Spy Agency

  Counter Intelligence Expert

  “Hmmm…” Interstellar was okay, but not entirely accurate. It suggested that they could operate between star systems. “What about Interplanetary Spy Agency instead?”

  “What? No!” Merry bounced agitatedly up and down. “I already printed the cards out. And interstellar sounds bigger. More exciting. Unlimited scope!”

  “Yeah, but that’s not really a good thing for a new agency,” Jayne countered. “Interplanetary is still big but not overwhelming. We won’t get bogged down in Torsa bullshit and there’s less pressure.”

  “When you say ‘less pressure’ I hear ‘less vision’, ‘less opportunities’. I hear ‘less clients’.” Merry’s mania began to take over, and she gestured emphatically with each sentence.

  Jayne held her hands up. This really wasn’t something she felt able to argue at that moment. “We’ll figure it out. But either way, we need to work our way up. If we take on something too big, we’ll fall flat on our faces and our reputation will be ruined before we’ve even had a chance to build any credibility.”

  “Fine. We’ll start off a little slow. Not too slow, though,” Merry insisted. She leaned conspiratorially toward her new partner. “Now, what should our slogan be?”

  Marketing wasn’t exactly Jayne’s remit. “Uh… Helping the helpless?”

  “For money,” Merry added quickly. “We can’t make it seem like we’re a charity.”

  She was right. Helping people pro bono might be possible down the road. But right now, making money was the main point of their enterprise, especially if they wanted to sustain the business.

  “’Helping the helpless for money.’ I don’t know if that’s a good slogan or not, but it’s a good internal motto.” Jayne raised her fist high in the air. “Long live the Interplanetary Spy Agency!”

  Merry followed suit. “May the ISA reign forever!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, In the Air Downtown

  The taxi driver was a chatty one, and to Jayne’s irritation, he didn’t take her complete lack of interest as a sign to stop talking. She stared out the window and tried to tune him out.

  He babbled away regardless.

  “So, by th’time I get th’mayor to th’hotel, he’s passed out drunk. Now, ordinarily…”

  Jayne tuned him out. The day was sunny and the green sky clear. At least it was up there. They’d ascended past the smog levels and were now in the upper half of the city. It rarely got hazy with pollution this high up unless it was a particularly bad day.

  The architecture of the megascrapers really stood out at these levels. Not a single building was a simple square or rectangle. There were thick spires, rotating round buildings, and octagons with open insides that housed private parks and stadiums. Even the most basic buildings had a curved side with balconies. That was a common element: balconies. The higher up you went, the fancier they became. Many opened to gardens, parks, ponds, and even private bridges that led to fake beaches – hover beaches.

  At this level, though, most were simple. A grill, a patio table, and maybe a hot tub. Nice, but not exceedingly luxurious.

  They cruised past a circular glass skyscraper. Jayne saw hundreds of people hard at work in various offices. She cringed at the thought of working with such a lack of privacy. The name of the corporation scrolled across the building in a thin ring. Dathakuch Projections. The building beside it was headquarters for another company she’d never heard of called Entition. She had no clue what they did or what they made, but at least their walls were solid. She could only see the window offices. The rest were private, as all building interiors should be. Then again, the glass did make it easier for surveillance, which was good for business.

  Jayne knew she’d be there someday, but for now, she was thankful. She couldn’t wait to arrive at her new office. Something about it gave her a sense of confidence. A barrier against anyone who would try to discredit her. “Oh, you don’t believe I’m a spy? Think again, because I have an office!” She giggled at the thought. Despite her excitement, her endless desire for more crept into the back of her mind. One of these days, she’d own an entire floor in the latter type of building. A headquarters for the solar system’s best spy agency. Yes, that sounded nice. She pulled out her tablet and pinged a quick query on the price of a floor in this region and altitude.

  The number that came back seemed fictional. Three hundred million credits for a floor. Hats off to Entition and Dathakuch for being able to afford that, whatever they are.

  So maybe not a floor. Maybe a small two-room suite.

  She queried the price for one in her tablet.

  Nope, not a two room suite. Not in this part of town at this altitude. A janitor’s closet, maybe. She and Merry could share it with the janitor. They could give him sex favors in exchange for keeping their presence secret. Hopefully he’d be a sexy janitor.

  Jayne sighed and ran the numbers for paying the hacker a livable wage. Three thousand credits a
month. It was a shit salary and Merry deserved much more. But they had just launched their business and had zero capital. In fact, they were already in debt. They needed clients, and they needed them soon. And the clients needed to be willing to pay a premium price for their services. Small two-hundred-fifty-credit-a-day jobs wouldn’t cut it. They’d be stuck doing shit like tracking down cheating spouses. No thank you. ISA aimed for the top-level jobs, the ones that maximized Jayne and Merry’s skill sets and paid the most. Ideally, they’d align with her moral compass too. But as an Academy spy, she was trained to be flexible on that front. Everything was a shade of gray. What mattered most was your side coming out on top while staying on the lighter side of the gray spectrum.

  If you could.

  Jayne closed her eyes and rested her head against the window. Maybe she was crazy for starting a company with Merry. There was no guarantee of success at all.

  “So Gevin goes to pay for th’next round, and his chip declines.”

  The cabby simply wouldn’t stop talking.

  “He swears up and down that he had a few hundred credits in his account, but we all laugh, giving him a hard time. I pick up th’tab for that round, ʼcause I’m that kinda guy, and we keep drinking, thinking nothing of it. A couple of days later, we all get a memo. One of Gevin’s fares had hacked his account and drained his funds.”

  The cabby burst into hitching, wheezy laughter. Jayne hadn’t paid attention earlier, so she wasn’t sure when all this took place, but she was pretty sure she knew who’d done the deed.

  “Now we all gotta pay some company to secure our cabs, but at least it won’t happen again.”

  “Did you get this cab secured?” she asked.

  It didn’t seem like he did. The jack in the center console was still accessible to her. She might not be a Merry-level hacker, but she had her chops. If she jacked in, she could rip his account to shreds just like she did with Gevin’s.

  “Oh, yeah, they did all sorts of things. No one’s getting my money. That’s for damn sure.”

  He was lucky.

  They reached Jayne’s destination mere seconds after she’d decided she would jack into his cab and drain his assets. Just to prove a point, of course. Plus, it could have helped to pay Merry and cancel the debt they’d already accrued. Ah well. Maybe next time.

  “Here we are,” the cabby stated before finally going silent.

  The cab had parked at the port of an old, wide stone building with gargoyles and arches decorating the exterior. At level forty-five, they weren’t as high up as Jayne would have preferred, but a quick glance showed her that for today at least, the smog ended ten levels or so below. A perfectly acceptable, if not fancy, place to have an office.

  +++

  Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Level 45, Malicarsh Building

  As the cab pulled away, Jayne took in her new surroundings. She’d spend a lot of time here now. Well, more in the office, but she still wanted to have a solid understanding of the building.

  The port was large, and even though dozens of air cars parked there, it looked mostly empty. The building clearly used to be more popular. A bar on the left side of the building looked out onto the rest of the city, or at least what little city could be seen in a metropolis full of megascrapers and smog.

  A large pink neon sign buzzed above the establishment. Berty’s Beer Bar. There was even a yellow neon mug of beer next to the name. It might look appealing at night, but with the sun out, the sign looked a little sad.

  A series of restaurant balconies jutted out in semi-circles to the right. It was a little after lunch and most of the tables were empty. None of the restaurants were accessible from the outside. A quick glance at the bar confirmed that it had an exterior entrance. Good to know. A place where people didn’t need to check in with the building security before entering could be good for meetings.

  A pleasant female voice broadcast across the port through a system of hidden speakers. “The pollution will dissipate down to the nineteenth level today, so get those bikinis out, girls. This hasn't happened naturally since late last year when the local sky beaches saw a record number of visitors. Low-levelers better get their sun while they can, though, because the clear skies won’t last long. Due to drought conditions, the mayor has decreed that there will be minimal pollution-clearing sprays every three weeks from now until the rains return. If this year’s anything like the drought six years ago, we all know how long that can take. So, check your smog spray calendar and dress appropriately if you’re going to be lower than level twenty-five any time after this week.”

  While level forty-five was only moderately above the smog zone, it did have the benefit of being a transport level. The city required that feature every fifteen levels, all buildings had exterior bridges, stairs, and elevators that led up and down to the next transport level as well as to all adjacent buildings. The result was a hub of activity at levels thirty, forty-five, sixty, seventy-five, ninety, and so on up until the hundreds, where most buildings ended. Level fifteen also had transport levels, but as it was perpetually smog-shrouded, fewer people lived and ventured down where everything happened under the cover of thick pollution.

  The bridges of the Malicarsh Building all sloped gently. Jayne hadn’t checked into the history of the building, but she had the feeling that back whenever it was built, it had been a statement of luxury, an enormous stone structure with gargoyles, fountains, and tall ceilings. Even the floor was marble. Time had clearly passed the building by, but it still maintained a modicum of its original austerity.

  Jayne approached the entrance. There was nothing more for her to see outside. A security guard stood at the arched double doors and she was pleased to see that, as she had thought, it lacked a full-body scanner. Her presence might be trackable, but at least she could come and go without having to worry about being detained for carrying guns or knives or bombs or any other illegal items Jayne was excited to play with.

  She pulled out the building ID badge Merry had given her and held it up for the guard. He nodded and she strode past him into the building. No ID scanning, no signing in, nothing. Maybe her presence wouldn’t be tracked after all.

  It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the building after having been outside for so long. The tall ceilings were easily twelve feet high and gave the lobby a cavernous feeling. Soft yellow lighting glowed from dozens of hidden sources but even after her eyes adjusted, it was still dim.

  Wall sconces lit up tile murals of kings and queens and a lush landscape, but who those royals actually were and where their surroundings existed, Jayne had no idea. It was probably homage to Armaros history, in which case the royals were thousands of years dead along with the fertile landscape. What was left of the planet was heavily damaged by planetary pollution. Corporate farms had staked out massive swaths of land for their livestock to graze, but the grass was pumped full of chemicals and the animals were engineered to grow to full size quickly before they inevitably became cancer stricken.

  Jayne spared a quick glance at the interior entrance of the bar before walking across the marble floor toward the food court on the right. The balconies made the restaurants look classy from the outside, but the inside revealed little more than cheap fast food joints. Jayne hoped there were some nicer restaurants nearby. Otherwise, she’d have to be careful not to pack on fast-food weight.

  After walking from one end of the enormous lobby to the other, Jayne headed down the passage to the offices. From what she could gather, the stairs at either end of the lobby serviced every level along with the elevator. Counting the port, that made three ways to leave or enter the building. More, if she considered the other ports. Plenty of avenues for escape but as many easy ways in, too. She’d have to be careful not to store anything valuable there, at least until she had a good security system in place with a high quality safe.

  She traversed a narrow hallway and followed a series of signs that led to the suite. The building’s maze-like
layout could prove useful in the event of an attack if she tinkered with the signs. She passed a variety of offices on her pilgrimage before finally reaching her corridor.

  Her office door had a single window frontage.

  The door across the hall read MSO—My Significant Other: Discreet Social Interactions for Hire.

  Great, I’m right across from an escort agency, Jayne thought derisively.

  The door to MSO opened, and out stepped an Adonis, muscled and tall with dark hair and big brown eyes. He wore a blazer and a pair of dark blue jeans. Jayne’s brain turned to jelly. He raised an eyebrow and nodded to her. Jayne couldn’t help cracking a smile, but then the man stepped nonchalantly past and down the hall.

  Jayne exhaled an explosive breath and shook her head, smiling.

  One hottie and you forget what you’re doing and all your training? Good job, superspy.

  She accessed the key panel and punched in her new code. The door was made of a dark wood with a translucent glass top panel with gold stenciling that read: ISA. It was a tad vague and she had considered listing the company’s full name, but they’d never really settled on whether they were Interplanetary or Interstellar Spy Agency.

  Plus, discretion had its benefits.

  A small waiting room was dim and devoid of furniture, but the stone walls and hardwood floor lent it a respectable and safe image. Off to one side, an open door led to a small bathroom. Another door led to an adjoining conference room.

  A third door on the opposite wall opened into a short hallway with two doors on either side at the end. She peeked right into a shelf-lined room with pegs on the walls giving it the distinct impression of a workshop. The other door opened into a cozy office with its own window that overlooked the city. This would definitely be the main space —add a good desk, a couple of chairs, a dry bar, and maybe a coat rack, and it would be perfect.

  The hardwood floor had charm but had clearly seen some use. Scratches, divots, and sticky stains marred its surface. It would need a little work. Whoever the previous tenant had been, they’d gone with old and expensive rather than the new lasts-forever flooring preferred by so many companies.