by John Appel
“Things I’m not cleared for?” She couldn’t keep all the frustration out of her voice.
“Not yet.” Kumar stood, and wearily, Meiko climbed to her own feet. “But if you can manage to pull off a good result here, I might be able to read you in.”
It was a slender lifeline Kumar had thrown her, and it might not bear the weight of the challenge she was saddling Meiko with. But, she thought as she trailed Kumar towards the transient quarters, a slim chance was better than none.
CHAPTER THREE
Our Lady of the Leap
“We can’t tell you how long the wormgate will stay open. Zheng He reports that, this time, it opens in the outer reaches of another star system, with at least three planets detected so far. There is no time for another cycle of the gate in hopes of finding a better system, even if we had the antimatter for another cycle, and we don’t. Unity’s vessels will be within range in seventy-two hours. You must go now. With our blessings, go. Carry our dreams with you, where Unity cannot pursue you. We’ll make sure it cannot.”
— Dr. Vritika Chatterjee, PhD, “The Lady of the Leap,”
from the Sol system wormgate station,
Day Zero of Exile
Noo
Kuti Park District, Ileri Station,
Trailing ring
Datamancy Partners occupied a perfectly average office building in the trailing ring, across the street from Kuti Park with its lake. Noo could see the far edges of the greenspace rising ahead as she approached from the transit stop with her work partner. Fari Tahir was Noo’s partner, Fathya’s granddaughter, and Saed’s sister, all rolled into one package. She was shorter than her brother but broader in the shoulder and hip, with a round face. The broken nose, courtesy of a training injury and left crooked by choice, transformed her features from ‘handsome’ to ‘strong’.
You’d never know she spent time crying for her lost sib. Noo herself couldn’t tell, and she knew that face as well as that of her own children.
Over in the park, a bunch of primary-school kids kicked a football around in time-honored tradition, deftly adjusting to the curling, Coriolis-charged arcs. Noo couldn’t make out their chatter but recollection supplied its own soundtrack. Not so many years ago she’d shepherded first her kids and then the Tahirs on football outings.
Fari slowed. Noo turned and caught her watching the children, saw the tears welling, and fought back her own urge to weep. She was caught by a sudden vision of standing among the parents loitering beside the pitch, watching Fari or her own son Izu sliding across the grass to knock a ball free so Saed or Ifeyinwa could capture it and then race downfield.
She pushed the memories down.
Do the job. Catch the fuckers that killed him. Then we can mourn.
She tapped her partner on the arm. “Are you with me, girl?” Fari jerked and shook her head.
“Not entirely. Sorry, Auntie.” She wiped her eyes and caught up to Noo.
Noo eyed her from head to toe and back again, before turning and taking the younger woman’s arm. “I don’t need you at full spin, girl, but present you must be,” she growled. “Wits and body both. Clear?”
“Clear, Auntie,” Fari said. “Are you going to tell me who we’re seeing, anyway?”
“Some things are best not talked about in the open. Let’s just say it’s not someone your grandmother could meet with.”
“But you can?”
“They’re connected to the owners of the Second Landing Social Club,” she said as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Fari’s eyes widened, but only slightly, as she followed Noo into the building’s lobby. Wondering how your Auntie can just stroll into a Fingers stronghold, eh, girl?
A human attendant seated behind a desk built to stop a breaching round greeted them. The alert-looking man had Fari’s blocky build. Late twenties, Noo guessed. Her djinn scooped up his public profile while her digital agent swam through the firm’s archives, matching their records with the public files. He was an arena-fighting prospect, turned Fingers muscle after failing to catch on with the fans, according to their intel. She watched Fari and the goon give each other the kind of reflexive once-over threat assessment that bruisers always did.
“M. Okereke and M. Tahir here to see M. Loh,” Noo announced loftily as the door closed behind them. “Be a good boy and let us in, would you?”
A drawer slid noiselessly out from the wall to their left. “You’ll need to deposit your hardware first, Auntie,” the man said with a thin smile.
“Hrmph.” Noo opened her jacket and pulled out her improbably large handgun, settled it into the drawer, then slipped her stunner from its holster and laid it alongside the much larger weapon.
“Very nice,” the attendant said. “Twelve millimeter? Isn’t that a little large for you, Auntie?” Fari laid her own weapons in the drawer; together they barely massed more than Noo’s pistol.
“Size matters, young man, that’s one thing I’ve learned in my years,” Noo quipped back.
His smile broadened into a genuine grin. “That’s what I tell my man.”
“Enjoy it while it still works, dear,” Noo said, and his face darkened slightly. “Buzz us up, please, your boss is waiting.”
Noo
A rangy man with straight steel-gray hair, a narrow face, and wary eyes, met them as they exited the lift. He wore an elegant collarless jacket in royal-blue silk, open to show a pale gray shirt beneath and loose black trousers. Noo closed on him and shook hands. “Good afternoon, Pericles.” She turned to Fari. “Please meet my associate, Fari Tahir.” Politeness and manners remained important in these affairs even while one’s djinn harvested someone’s public profile, and in the case of everyone present, trawled their respective private databases for information about that person. Or would have, if this part of the building hadn’t been signal-shielded.
If playing the game finds the goat-fucker who did this, then I’ll play the game this way.
The man took Fari’s hand in his own thin, long-fingered ones, and spoke in a warm, rich basso. “M. Tahir. I’m sorry to meet you under such circumstances. I’m Pericles Loh. Would you please come this way?” He guided them down a short hallway, through the sole open door and into his office. Loh guided them past a sleek, functional desk with modern projector units and utilitarian meeting chairs, settling his charges instead into a trio of comfortable armchairs arranged around a low circular table. Noo settled her broad hips into her seat as Loh offered them tea from the elegant service—handmade, she was sure, nothing from a fabber—as a woman near Fari’s age rolled in a cart bearing a number of covered dishes. She uncovered them, revealing bowls of steaming noodles, sliced vegetables, and spiced shredded vat pork. She left and Loh served his guests himself.
Refreshment seen to, Loh settled deeply into his own chair and looked from one woman to the other. “My condolences on your loss, Ms. Tahir. Please convey my sympathies to your family.”
Fari murmured her thanks as Noo cut in. “We appreciate that, sincerely, Pericles. Please extend ours to the families of your people.” Loh inclined his head in gratitude. Noo pressed on. “Time is ticking on, so pardon me for being direct, and for talking business while we eat.”
Loh smiled faintly. “When have you ever been anything else?”
Noo glared at him but pressed on. She sat perched on the edge of her seat. “Maybe I’m off-base, but I’m pretty sure no one in your organization is foolish enough to kill the Commonwealth Consul just to get a shot at Ita, especially in one of your own properties. Not that I think killing Ita is something your people would have done; open trade means more business for you.”
Loh nodded. “All hypothetically speaking, of course.”
Noo snorted. “Sure.” She jabbed her chopsticks at him. “But there might be pressure on someone to make that seem like a logical course of action if answers aren’t forthcoming. Toiwa’s on your ass like a boil, yes?”
His smile dropped instantly. Loh laid down
his fork and leaned back in his chair. “Indelicately phrased, but accurate. There’s also the little matter of the gun, which has the Constabulary somewhat incensed,” he said, crossing one leg over the other.
“Right,” Noo said. “Violating the prohibition on firearms, especially one with enough lethality to kill everyone in a room in seconds, is pretty much a declaration of war against the yellowjackets. Only a fool or a grounder uses a weapon like that on a station. So they’re going to run that all the way down. We don’t believe your people are willing to risk that, even in whatever bizarre alternate universe where these killings serve your people’s ends.”
Loh kept his expression bland, but his voice was clipped. “Obvious facts, M. Okereke, that anyone with even a cursory interest in station affairs knows. What brings you to my door? Especially since, as you so colorfully put it, we have the Commissioner’s full attention.”
Fine, be that way. “I’m sure we’d both like to see the perpetrator sucking vacuum at the earliest possible moment. And I know about the service-ring passages, Pericles.”
Loh’s shoulders gave an elegant shrug. “The three tiers of decks below the station’s surface level all contain such passages. How does it signify?”
“Do the yellowjackets know that’s how the shooters got away? And perhaps how they got in?”
Any remaining amity vanished in a blink, though the only outward sign was a sudden chill in Loh’s voice. “That would be significant, if it were true.”
“Do you have another explanation for how the killers managed to carry a projectile weapon capable of killing nine people with eleven or twelve shots through the station without being flagged and tracked down? Or how they got out without being seen by the club’s other employees, or witnesses outside?”
Frosty silence answered this.
Loh shrugged. “And if all that is true, so?”
Fari pressed on, even and relentless as an assembler bot putting a structure together. “Perhaps, in their pursuit, they might care about finding an assassin, and less concerned with finding the assassin.”
The man’s eyebrows twitched slightly at that. He studied Fari for a moment, then tilted his head to look at Noo. “More insightful than I’d expect from a person her age. You’ve trained your protégé well.”
Noo repressed her answering smile—mostly. “Fathya’s as much as mine.”
“Still.” His gaze shifted back to Fari. “Let’s say I concede the possibility your suppositions are accurate. I acknowledge your obvious motivations in resolving the matter. What can we do for each other here?”
Fari leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “We could provide an unofficial channel for information your organization might possess that directs the authorities in the proper direction, for one,” she said. “Giving you a way to cooperate with the Constabulary without appearing to. Or we can run down leads which your own assets cannot easily pursue, due to the excessive attention you’re under right now.”
The fingers of Loh’s left hand drummed atop his knee as he considered this. “That has possibilities, certainly,” he said after a moment. “But by itself, that’s not likely to sway my colleagues into cooperating with you.”
Fari took a deep breath. “And, naturally, I would be personally obliged to you.”
Both Noo and Loh sat upright in their seats.
Loh blinked several times, then settled back into his chair again, surprise evident on his face. When he finally spoke, the words came slowly, each selected as carefully as tiles in a mosaic. “I believe the prospect of a personal favor from the woman who will one day run the top private security firm on Ileri Station might persuade them, yes.” He shifted forward, taking up his teacup. Fari followed suit, and they saluted each other, then drank. “I will have to consult with my colleagues. But I think you’ll hear back from us quickly. As you say, it’s in everyone’s interest to see this settled as rapidly as possible.” He finished off his tea and leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the young woman.
Fari set her drink down as well but remained perched on the edge of her seat. “Rapidly or not, I want the bastards who killed my brother sucked dry of everything they know and sent to the recycler,” she said in a voice suddenly tight. “And then I want the same done with every person up the fucking chain until I reach whoever put this into motion. That one, I might take my time with.”
A smile touched the corners of his lips. “Fathya’s blood indeed,” he murmured.
Fari shot back.
Shock and surprise finally gave way to the need for action, and Noo put herself back into the fray. I’m not leaving here empty-handed after all that. “Perhaps,” she said, “you might toss a bone of consideration our way, a good-faith gesture while your lot talks this out?”
Loh gave a quick nod. “That seems reasonable.” He rose smoothly from his seat, gesturing for them to keep theirs, and crossed the room to his desk, calling up a private AR window. Returning to stand before Fari, he opened one hand, offering her a data packet Noo could see but couldn’t read. Private encryption, djinn to djinn? Weeping Nana, Fathya’s going to lose her shit when she finds out her girl has given even this much to the Fingers.
Fari accepted the packet. “Thank you.” If she opened the packet to read it, she gave no outward sign. She offered Loh her hand to shake, and just like that, the deal was sealed.
By this time Noo’s appetite had fled completely. After the pro-forma exchange of regrets that they couldn’t linger, Loh brought them to his office door. Outside they found the tough-looking young woman who’d served their lunch.
“Myra will see you out,” Loh told them, “and she’ll be your primary point of contact for routine communications with me. Her information is in the packet. M. Okereke”—he nodded in Noo’s direction—“knows how to reach me if something urgent or high priority comes up.”
Fari crossed her arms, balking at crossing the threshold. “And how long do you expect deliberations to take?” she asked.
Another shrug of those elegant shoulders. “A few hours, at most. As discussed, affairs are in disarray, so it will take a little time.”
“By second shift, then?”
“I should hope so,” Loh replied. “If for some reason there’s a delay, I’ll let you know.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Myra escorted them to the lobby, and they retrieved their weapons under the watchful eyes of the guard. A few moments later they sat ensconced in a transit car bound for the south ring.
Noo snapped up a privacy field. “I hope you get something worthwhile from this, girl. You grandmother’s going to be pissed when she finds out you’ve cut a deal with the Fingers,” she said. Weariness crept into her voice; when had fatigue snuck up on her? The catnap she’d snatched at the office hadn’t been enough, clearly.
Fari activated her own privacy functions, and popped open a private AR window, no doubt looking over the data Loh had given her. “What makes you think she’s going to find out?” she asked, absently.
A snap of Noo’s fingers got Fari’s attention. “That’s a foolish thought, to
suppose she won’t discover what you’ve done,” she said, fatigue temporarily displaced by anger. “She’s not a fucking imbecile, and she’s got sources everywhere, for all that she’s too fucking upright to deal with the Fingers herself.” She shook her finger at the younger woman.
Fari’s face hardened, an expression Noo was all too familiar with, a sign of genuine anger. Shit, she really is just like the old woman. “Of course not, Auntie. She’s had you to do the dirty work all these years. But there will come a day when I won’t have that luxury.” She stared at Noo through the translucent panel of her AR window. Noo met the look, returned it with a stern one of her own. Finally, the two women relaxed. “How did you get connected with that old rascal, anyway? Did you sleep with him too?” She said it without any sense of mockery.
“Pericles? Oh, no, child. He fancies men.” She chuckled. “It was his sister.” Fari gave a wan smile and a small laugh of her own. “Long ago. Anyway. What did he give you?”
With a wave of her right hand Fari shared the AR window with her and flipped it round so Noo could read it. Noo’s head jerked back in surprise. “Councilor Walla from the forward ring? How’s she involved?”
The car surged, pressing them back into their seats. “According to Loh, she was on the guest list last night, but didn’t show up,” Fari said. “I thought we’d go pay her a visit.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Meiko
Commonwealth Consulate Quarters Block,
Ileri Station, South Ring
Meiko, much refreshed after a nap and shower, sat cross-legged on her couch, hands wrapped around her coffee cup. It was good stuff, or at least the style she preferred, dark and strong. The kind of coffee you drank while minding the probe feeds during a survey run, or on an all-night stakeout. She took a fresh look at her quarters with the benefit of anti-inflammatories, caffeine, and a few hours of rest. It was a nice room—a suite really—with a dinette/work cubby, a comfortable bed big enough for three, even a kitchenette. The bathroom was fancier than her own back home on Novo Brasilia.
