Trojan Horse

by R. M. Olson

  Tae gritted his teeth. “Jez. If you so much as—”

  A notification dinged on his com, and he glanced down at it.

  Then he felt the blood drain from his face.

  Zhenya.

  Of course it would be Zhenya.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Jez’s expression turn from a smirk to one of concern, and Tanya and Galina both frown at him.

  “Hey. Tech-head. You alright?” Jez’s voice came from what felt like a hundred kilometres away.

  He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it.

  He’d been expecting this. They’d all been expecting it. Counting on it, really.

  Still—he couldn’t get out of his head the last time he’d sat with Zhenya, and the mafia pakan had sat back in their chair and casually told him that Ivan was walking to his death. He couldn’t forget the frantic, desperate panic that he wouldn’t solve their puzzle in time and Ivan would be blown to bloody pieces in front of him and there’d be nothing he could do about it.

  He looked up at the circle of concerned faces, and tried to force a smile onto his face.

  “It’s … it’s the call we were waiting for. Zhenya. They want to see me. And they’ll kill Caz and Peti and the rest of them if I tell any one of you.”

  Tanya nodded grimly. “Good. That’s what we planned for, yes? Come on. I’ll call Lev, and we’ll get you ready. When do they want to meet?”

  “Tonight,” said Tae softly.

  The rest of the day was spent in hurried conference with Lev, Tanya, and Masha. Jez haunted the room, her usual snarky grin cut with worry, and Ivan kept poking his head in to see how they were coming, and bringing something for them to eat when they’d all forgotten it was long past meal time.

  By the time the streets were darkening, there was a knot in Tae’s stomach large enough that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep down the food he’d eaten earlier, but they were as prepared as they could be.

  “The bug in your com is undetectable, right?” asked Lev for the hundredth time, as they sat in the conference room.

  Tae nodded. “It’s not really a bug. It’s a recording device, but it doesn’t send anything out, so it won’t be easy to catch. If I’m killed, it will trigger the com to send everything, but as long as I still have a pulse, nothing goes out.”

  “So if they just knock you unconscious, or put you in a coma—”

  Tae gave Lev a tight smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to kill myself if it comes to it.”

  “That’s—not what I meant,” said Lev. His voice was sharp with concern.

  “He’s got a tracker on his com, anyways,” said Tanya grimly. “If there are strange movement patterns and he’s not back when we hope, I’ll be able to find him.”

  Lev nodded, but the worry on his face didn’t subside. He turned back to Tae. “Alright. He’s going to think he has Caz and Peti and the others somewhere he can get at them. We’ve got their records tied to another apartment building several streets away from the one they’re currently in, and where they are currently is protected by Olyessa’s people. So even if Zhenya does discover our trick, there’s no way Grigory’s boyeviki can get in to hurt them, right Masha?”

  “That is correct,” Masha murmured. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, only speaking when necessary, and Tae had the uncomfortable feeling she was doing it because she didn’t want to make this any more difficult for him than it had to be. Which only actually made it worse. If she’d bloody well be a jerk about it, it would be easier to hate her, instead of feeling like someone had ripped out a piece of his heart and then tried to sew over the empty spot.

  He stood quickly, pushing back his chair. “Alright. I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late.”

  “You have your weapons, yes?” asked Tanya. “There’s no way you bring them in to the meeting, I think, but at least to keep you alive on the way there and back.”

  He nodded, checking his holster for the modded heat-gun Ysbel had supplied.

  “Good,” she said. “I don’t know there’s much else we can do.”

  Tae nodded again, trying to fight down the sick worry, then turned out the door.

  “Good luck, tech-head,” said Jez as he stepped through the doorway, clapping him on the shoulder. He had to bite back a sharp response.

  She was just worried about him.

  He thought she’d walk with him to the hangar bay, but instead she gave him a knowing wink and strode off down the hallway in the opposite direction. He looked after her for a moment, shaking his head, then turned towards the skybikes.

  He’d wanted to be alone, of course. But for some reason, stepping into the darkened hangar without any of the others even to see him off made his heart drop, just a little.

  Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t a kid, and he didn’t need someone waving goodbye.

  “Tae.”

  He spun.

  Ivan was standing by the bikes, waiting for him, and the concern in his voice was almost enough to crack Tae’s fragile composure completely.

  He stepped over and grabbed Tae in a tight bear hug. “I didn’t want to miss you before you left.”

  Tae felt himself relaxing into the warmth of Ivan’s embrace, leaning into him unconsciously.

  “Are you alright? Really?” Ivan whispered. “If—if I can go instead, if there’s anything I can do—”

  Damn it to hell, he couldn’t afford this. He had enough to do to keep everyone alive, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted.

  He drew in a long breath.

  “Tae?” Ivan pulled back slightly, peering at him with a worried expression on his face. “Honestly. Are you alright?”

  “I’m—I’m fine,” he managed, his voice shaking just a little.

  Ivan didn’t let go of his shoulders, and didn’t look away, and his eyes were dark and concerned and as deep as deep space, and Tae was about to get lost in them if he didn’t look away right now.

  He managed to tear his gaze off Ivan’s. “Anyways, I’d—I’d better get going.”

  “Yes. I guess you’d better.” Ivan let go of his shoulders with something that was almost reluctance, and there was a wry tone in his voice.

  Tae took another long breath and blew it out slowly, trying to steady his heartbeat. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I’ll let you know what happens. This is what we planned for, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Ivan, or himself.

  Ivan smiled at him, but there was still that sharp concern in his eyes, the lines of worry around his mouth. “Alright. Just—be careful, OK?”

  “Yeah,” Tae mumbled, turning to the skybikes. He threw his leg over one quickly, before he could lose his nerve and look at Ivan again, and started it up. It rose gently, and he couldn’t resist one final look over his shoulder as he leaned slightly forward and the bike idled out the hangar door.

  Ivan was still watching him, a dark silhouette against the light from inside the building, as he turned down the street.

  By the time he approached the place Zhenya had set for a meeting, he’d somehow managed to slow his heart rate down to almost its usual speed, and his hands were only trembling a little. The cool of the night air had helped, at least, to clear his tangled thoughts, and now most of his shakiness was only due to the fact that he was coming to meet Zhenya—the person who had easily outsmarted him the last time they spoke—and the fact that if he made one wrong move, he’d be killed.

  After what he’d dealt with over the past few months, the thought that if he messed up it would be only him who would die for it was refreshingly calming.

  There were people waiting outside the entrance to the small, dark doorway, lurking in the meaningful way of people who wanted to be seen while appearing not to want to be seen. He’d seen enough of the unspoken threats on Grigory’s ship that this had an almost comforting air of familiarity to it.

  He idled his bike to a stop, dismo
unted, and leaned it up against a stair-railing, locking it in place with a mag lock. He’d prefer not to have to walk home, honestly. The lurkers had moved closer, ever so slightly, and he allowed a hint of his nervousness to show through in his movements.

  He couldn’t appear too calm. If he honestly thought Zhenya would be able to hurt Caz and Peti—well, he was pretty sure he’d actually vomit on the street corner before he could manage to get inside.

  He laid a reassuring hand on the holster of his heat gun as he walked carefully down the steps to the darkened doorway, and with his free hand, pulled the door open.

  The light that streamed out almost blinded him, after the cool dark of the evening, and the music and warmth inside, along with the thick smell of sump cut with the sharper smell of other liquors and the sweet cloying scent of various street drugs—he could probably identify if he took the time to sort through them—assaulted his senses. He blinked and took a step inside, and it wasn’t until he’d blinked a couple more times that he felt the cool, hard pressure on his ribs that had to be the muzzle of a heat-pistol.

  “Tae Bezdomnikov,” said a quiet voice beside him. “It’s good to see you again.”

  He turned, and saw the vicious smile on the face of a woman who he recognized from Grigory’s ship.

  Her expression told him she was only glad to see him because she had a pistol at his ribs.

  “I’m here to—” he tried to make his voice sound more bold than he felt.

  She smiled in a predatory way. “Here to meet with the Pakan, I know. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to move your hands somewhere I can see them. Then you’re going to let my friend here remove your pistol and do a quick scan. And once we’re both satisfied that you’re unarmed, you’re going to walk ahead of me, nice and easy, exactly where I tell you to.”

  He stood still while the man beside her, another boyevik who he vaguely remembered, pulled Ysbel’s modded pistol out of his belt, and did a quick scan for weapons. He found the knife in Tae’s boot, and confiscated that as well. Then the woman gestured him forwards, keeping the gun jammed painfully into his ribs.

  “Go on,” she said. “Get moving. Don’t want to keep Zhenya waiting.”

  He gritted his teeth and did as he was told.

  No one in the club looked up as he walked past. The boyevik holding the gun was clearly experienced—she walked in a casual manner, her gun hidden beneath her jacket, her posture relaxed, as if she had her hand on his back because they were friends, or maybe lovers. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself.

  If he died here, no one would be any the wiser. Even if Lev and Tanya realized something was wrong, there’d be no way they’d get to him in time. And they hadn’t dared send an escort. If Zhenya caught one whiff that he wasn’t alone, he was as good as dead, and their plan was shot.

  The boyevik beckoned him up a short flight of stairs and through a doorway into a private room. He stepped through reluctantly, and glanced quickly around the small space.

  Zhenya sat at the end of a long table, leaning back in their chair. Their posture was the same as it had been on Grigory’s ship, a mixture of casual confidence and the sort of alert readiness that came from being raised on the streets. They half-stood as he entered, a small smile spreading across their face.

  “Tae,” they said, gesturing to the seat beside them. “I’m so glad you were able to get away.”

  Their smile was predatory, but there was something genuine about it too, as if Zhenya was honestly happy to see him.

  The boyevik prodded him forward, and reluctantly, he crossed to the chair, his movements stiff.

  “What are you going to do to my friends?” he asked in a low voice, the moment he was close enough. “Why are you threatening them?”

  “Patience,” Zhenya said, with a lazy smile. They waved a hand at the two boyeviki who had brought him, and both of them backed out the door, closing it behind them.

  “You’ll get your weapons back, don’t worry,” said Zhenya, glancing over at him. “I have no intention of taking anything of yours.”

  “Why did you bring me here?” he asked again, his voice harsh with the strain. “And what are you going to do with my friends?”

  Zhenya sat back in their chair, watching him appraisingly. For a few moments they didn’t speak, just looked at him, as if he were a puzzle and they were trying to find a solution.

  “Tae,” they said at last. “You and your friends—outwitted us. Outwitted me. What you did was exactly what I was supposed to protect against. Grigory doesn’t blame me, of course—who could have predicted what you did on that ship? In fact, I think he was impressed that I was able to shut you out of the systems in the first place. But,” Zhenya leaned forward slightly. “But Tae. I’m upset with myself. I’m upset that I wasn’t able to foresee that. Because that’s my job. That’s what kept me alive on the streets all those years. And I don’t like failing.”

  Tae watched them, his teeth clenched painfully.

  He needed this. The whole crew needed this. But the moment he’d walked into this room, he’d remembered why he’d felt that gut-deep dread at the sight of Zhenya’s name on his com.

  Because Zhenya was smart. They were a survivor, and they were smart, and they’d already outwitted him once.

  “I watched you, you know. While you were on the ship. I had my people watch you. You’re not the outsider you pretended to be. But you’re not completely aligned with the rest of them, are you? I noticed that. You care for them, certainly. But you’re not really one of them. Your street family, though—they’re the ones who kept you alive, kept you from ending up on a planet like this, but as entertainment. And you gave up your own rations and your own blanket on the coldest nights, didn’t you? Kept them alive, too, when there was no way they would have survived without you. That kind of bond, Tae—it means something. Maybe more than your alliance to a group of people who might have your back, or might, possibly, not. Hard to tell sometimes, isn’t it?”

  Tae’s heart was pounding. “What do you want, Zhenya?” he asked again, the strain roughening his voice. “You brought me here. Tell me what you want from me.”

  Zhenya smiled. “I want to win my self-respect back. A petty thing, maybe, but there it is.” They leaned forward on the table, and there was a gleam in their eyes. “I want you, Tae, to tell me how to beat Masha. And in return, I’ll keep your street kid friends safe. That’s what I want.”

  Tae bit down hard on the backs of his teeth.

  This was what he and Lev and the others had wanted. This was exactly what they’d wanted, and Zhenya had played right into their hands.

  He wasn’t sure why his palms were sweating and his mouth had gone dry.

  “Why—” He swallowed, and tried again. “Why should I help you?”

  Zhenya raised an eyebrow. “I thought I’d explained that.”

  “How do I know you aren’t bluffing?” he kept his voice low.

  He had to appear suspicious. He had to appear reluctant, because one wrong move now and everything went to pieces.

  Zhenya smiled, a small smile that was almost fond. “You’re right, of course. Anyone could have looked up your background, at least what was replaced on your file after it was wiped. They could have tracked down information, found out the names of your friends, of the brother and sister who are holding everything together in your absence. Caz and Peti. They could have found the file the police have on them as well—although I’m not sure if you’ve seen that yet. It’s surprisingly extensive. Apparently your antics have made the government very interested in your friends. They could have read all about little Mila, the youngest child in your gang. She’s what, only just seven? This month, I think, as far as the information we have on her suggests. You know, I believe I have some idea why she keeps getting fevers. But then, I’m not a doctor, so I could be wrong.”

  Tae’s heart was beating out a quick, frantic pattern in his chest, like the wings of a trapped b
ird.

  This was all part of the plan. Zhenya was right, anyone with sufficient resources and contacts could have learned all of this. But hearing his friends’ names in their mouth, the intimate details of their lives—

  Zhenya leaned a little farther forward, placing their hands on the table, and their grin widened slightly.

  “But Tae. Even if I had access to the best hackers money could buy—could I know what you said to them last night, when you called them on your com?”

  Tae froze.

  “Caz,” Zhenya recited, leaning back slightly as if trying to remember the exact words. “Keep them safe, OK? Just make sure everyone stays inside as much as possible. I don’t want any of you getting into trouble. It will only be for a little.”

  A cold numbness was spreading through Tae, as if his body had ceased to function.

  Those were the exact words.

  That link was untraceable. He’d have bet his life on that.

  He had bet his life on it, and the lives of all the other kids.

  “You didn’t want them to be used as bait, did you?” asked Zhenya softly, studying him. “I commend you.”

  “I—” he couldn’t get words out. He couldn’t seem to breathe, couldn’t seem to remember how to make his muscles move.

  “It wasn’t your link, you know, if that’s what’s worrying you,” Zhenya said. “I’m actually impressed at how you managed to do that. No, we got that recording because of the bug I had my people plant in their apartment. While Caz was out yesterday getting food. I’m afraid Peti is a little more anxious to go out these days, and I’m afraid that’s our fault. Well, not mine specifically. I was always as kind as I could be to the girl. But she’s a street kid, and she’s smart. Smarter than Grigory thought, I think. He never had to survive on the streets, like you and I did.”

  Tae still couldn’t speak. His muscles felt paralyzed.

  Zhenya was still talking, seeming hardly to notice his horror. “Were you thinking maybe I’d believed they were at the dummy address you planted?” they asked pleasantly. “You almost did fool me there, honestly. I consistently underestimate how clever you are. But what you didn’t realize?” They let their smile broaden slightly. “How could you have known that I was friends with one of Olyessa’s people? Of course you didn’t know that. No one does, or he and I would probably both be dead. But it’s to our mutual advantage. And he knows the people who watch that complex. He was able to track down your friends from the descriptions I gave.” They gave a small shrug. “If it makes you feel better, no one other than me would have been able to do that. So your plan was more or less a success.”