The culminating event of the holidays came on Tenthday, when families gathered for private festivities after exchanging the traditional early morning gift. In the evening, Ari and her son had planned to join them for a quiet dinner at Sea Spires, to give Wolf and Garion a chance to work on their relationship, but that had been put on hold for now.
“Give me a few days to wind up this operation, then I’ll come in and let you poke and prod me all you want.”
“Fitz, he’s faster and stronger than you, even when you’re at optimal performance. If you try to go up against him when you’re not one hundred percent, he could do some serious damage. He’s come close twice. How do you think he’ll feel to know he hurt you?”
No worse than she felt at the thought of shooting him down like a diseased animal. “Wolf wouldn’t hurt me. He’s had several opportunities, and each time he’s held back.”
“But Wolf’s not in charge. It’s this other guy…”
“Cypher. I call him Cypher.”
“Cypher? You’ve given him a name? Sounds like you’re in danger of confusing the two. Wolf is your bond-partner, and this Cypher character is a cold-blooded killer. Don’t mix them up.”
Was she in danger of confusing Wolf with Cypher? The feel of his body against hers had been the same, the taste of his kiss so familiar, but behind his eyes lurked another mind, one totally foreign to her. The scratch of his whiskers against her skin, and the smell of the Warren on his body, had belonged to a man so like Wolf, and yet not.
“Wolf operated as an assassin for Ari, but he changed.”
“The symbiont changed him.” Ski tapped a finger against Fitz’s chest. “An extended life span has a way of abrading the sharp edges off your personality, and each time you cheat death it leaves a mark on your soul. That changes a person. Hell, you must have realized that by now.”
Fitz scrubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Right now I have a job to do. You’re going to have to wait until I get Wolf back. That’s all you’re going to get, Doc. Take it or leave it. Now I have to meet Lieutenant Pike at 1130 hours at the cafeteria.”
“Malick’s hell. I don’t know which of you has the harder head. You and Wolf belong together. At least I can pull the bloodwork and metabolic panel from the auto-doc and get started checking that.” Ski transferred the data to her tablet, eyes squinting as she began to read. “That can’t be right,” she muttered, more to herself than to Fitz.
Afraid that whatever the doctor saw on her screen could sideline her, Fitz made for the door, leaving Ski’s protests behind.
___________
Pike leaned against the wall outside the fourth floor cafeteria, wearing the distracted look of a man studying data on his inhead display. When he saw Fitz, he lurched to quick but sloppy attention. “Colonel, wouldn’t it be easier to have our lunch sent up to the office and continue working?”
“No.” Her answer and smile were enigmatic as she swiped her ident-card and entered her access code, allowing the computer to pick up her biometric signature. Yesterday she’d put the new security measures in place at SpecOps HQ, all government buildings, and the imperial residence, much to the displeasure of the personnel working in them. The ident-cards presented another layer of security that set up a rash of grumbling from the workers, but they helped negate the advantage of Cypher’s access to Wolf’s memories. He might have the knowledge and the proper biometric scan, but without a matching ident-card, his ability to access many sensitive areas would be restricted, though not eliminated. These old buildings contained too many maintenance tunnels, shortcuts, and even secret passages. All she could hope for was to slow him down. Or steer him in a direction of her choosing.
Once through security, Pike caught up to her. “I’ve had a chance to study DeWitt’s files and…”
Fitz cut him off. “The salad looks good. I think I’ll have that.”
Understanding bloomed on his face as he followed her, picked up a tray and made his selections. Fitz took the gelatin salad, fruit, a protein shake, and the ubiquitous cup of coffee. Pike reached the checkout before her, but had trouble with the computer accepting his credit chip for payment.
“I hate these things, I always try to scan them through upside down or something.” He tried again, and the machine repeated its loud beeping.
Fitz pushed him aside, swiping her card through for both meals. “Lunch is on me. Grab that table in the corner.”
The cafeteria wasn’t busy, and a smattering of black uniforms among the military personnel and civilians assured their presence would go largely unnoticed. As she carried her tray to the table, Fitz noted the placement of all the surveillance cameras. The spot she’d indicated sat directly below one pick-up, and in its dead spot. Instead of her usual habit of sitting with the wall at her back, she chose the near side. When Pike started to sit across from her, she quietly signaled for him to take the chair closest to her.
Following her lead, he remained silent until they were seated. She extracted a suppression module from her jacket pocket, placed it on the table and activated it. The air seemed to grow thick around them, and the carrier wave on her comm cut off. She placed a forefinger behind her ear and slowly dragged it across her throat, the hand sign for shut it all down.
Pike frowned as he put all his systems in stand-by mode. Not a pleasant situation for an augie, but she’d grown accustomed to in the past few months, so their loss didn’t seem to distress her as much as it did her young aide. Once this crisis had passed, perhaps she’d set up periodic training time without augs for everyone. Augies could become too dependent on them.
They were as isolated as two people could be in a high tech society, short of retreating to the polar regions or the middle of a swamp, but even there they wouldn’t be safe from spying eyes in orbit.
Pike looked over his shoulder before leaning close to whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit with your back to a roomful of people.”
“I suspect Tritico has hacked into the surveillance systems.” Fitz nodded toward the camera above them. “And I’m concerned about his techs learning to read lips.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened and he put his hand in front of his mouth before answering. “You think he’s made it that far into all our systems?”
“DIS had years to sink its tentacles into our computers; into every file, comm system and surveillance package. It’s going to take even longer to uncover all their back doors.”
“Our people located and shut down half a dozen bugs in Personnel just this morning.”
Fitz smiled. “And you think that’s all of them?”
“I wouldn’t want to bet my ass on it.”
“Good, because that’s exactly what you’re going to do this afternoon. There’s been a change of plans.”
Pike stilled with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Your timetable has changed. Right after we finish here, you’ll catch a shuttle up to Coronia Station at 1300 and go aboard the…Mad Dog.” Referring to the new corvette as the Youngblood still felt wrong to her, particularly with Wolf’s life and position hanging in limbo. If even one newsie put him and the assassin together, the media would descend on him and pull him down like a pack of quollas on a crippled neubeast.
“The executive officer is Lt. Commander Hazel Mandisa. I’ve worked with her before, she’s as good as they come, if a little brusque. She won’t like dealing with a last minute change of plans. You’ll have to be your usual charming self and get her on board with the new timetable.” She rubbed her face, her sinuses aching from the buzz of the suppression field.
“Ari, her security detail, and I will arrive at 1400 hours, in Lizzy, not the imperial shuttle. I’m hoping the change of ships will throw off the newsies, and if we get into a scrap, Lizzy’s just as heavily armed, and itching to use her new guns. We’ll get a quick walk-through of the new ship, and then retire to the mess to hoist a couple of drinks with Captain Wellborn. Miah Lister will officially hand over owners
hip to the Emperor, and the lot of them can sit down to whatever the ship’s cook can throw together on such short notice. I should have Ari back to her residence by 1800 hours, the time we were originally scheduled to leave.”
Pike nodded. “If the assassin plans to set up an ambush, you’ll be there and back before he has a chance to follow through on it.”
“Hopefully. The only chancy part is coming back. If he planned on hitting us when we left, it might get dicey then, but we’ll be ready for him. I’d have preferred to go earlier, to have her safely home before he could do anything about it, but Ari couldn’t clear her schedule before lunch. So we work with what we have.”
Pike waved his fork for emphasis. “So all I have to do is sweet-talk Captain Wellborn’s XO into tossing all their carefully laid plans out the airlock and throwing in with our accelerated timetable. Ship’s officers live for the chance to show off their precious vessels and entertain high value guests. You don’t get more high value than the Emperor. And hell, Mandisa probably already hates SpecOps.”
“Hazel has a reputation for eating mediocre junior officers for breakfast, but if you do your job right, smile a lot and flatter her, you’ll be okay.”
Fitz glanced over her shoulder before she continued. “When the holidays are finally behind us, I’ve convinced Ari and Garion to spend a few days up at the Summer Palace. I have a plan to smuggle them out and set a trap for Cypher. Can’t be too easy, or he’ll be suspicious and not fall for it.”
“By next week that may not be necessary,” Pike said. “I came across a project in DeWitt’s files dubbed Mimic—a DIS program to use a carefully constructed secondary personality to embed one of their operatives. They planned to insert sleeper agents—assassins or saboteurs—in various government agencies or the community by hiding their agent behind an innocuous computer-generated personality. The cover would have a childhood, schooling, a complete history, and could be in place for years—long enough to create an entire life, even start a family—but he would have no idea he was sharing his body with a killer until a pre-arranged signal triggered the switch. After the DIS agent completed his mission, he could quietly disappear or revert back to his cover personality and resume his life until the next time his masters needed his services. The idea was that the agent could be anyone, and even his closest friends and family would never suspect.”
Goosebumps washed across Fitz’s arms, the hair standing erect. “The ultimate in plausible deniability. Even you don’t know you’re the guilty party. With a set of invented memories, it could anyone, even you or me. And we’d never know it.”
A spot between her shoulder blades itched, and she fought down the urge to whip her chair around and scan for danger behind her.
Pike dropped his fork and waved both hands at her, seemingly aware of the thoughts churning around inside her head at the moment. “Don’t worry. It didn’t work. Project Mimic failed and they shut it down, rather quickly in fact. I haven’t decrypted all of DeWitt’s notes yet, but the problem stemmed from the two personalities being unable to co-exist in one body.” Pike leaned closer to her. “When you talked to this Cypher yesterday, did you see any trace of Triumvir Youngblood? Anything at all?”
Fitz let her memory slip back to yesterday, back to the filthy alley and the hard body against hers. The kiss had felt the same, had sparked a fire inside her as it always had, but the fingers that stroked her skin had been rough and grimy, the nails dirty. Had Cypher’s desire been sparked by Wolf’s feelings for her? Or was she only seeing what she wanted to see, hoping there was some trace of the man she loved inside a stranger?
“Possibly. But I thought you theorized that they gave Cypher part of Wolf’s memories so he’d have access to the palace and the skills to pull off the hit. That might be all I saw.”
Pike’s head nodded in excitement. “Yes, and that’s going to work in our favor. Mimic failed because the two personalities continually fought for control of the body.”
“But I thought you said the host wouldn’t be aware of the implanted personality, and vice versa.”
“Not at first, but think of the type of person they’d use—an agent who, at best, is a soldier, maybe a killer, or assassin. He won’t have a meek, quiet personality that’s going to accept being taken over easily. He’d probably be a control freak, someone who’s used to being in charge, and he would struggle to get back in command of his own body. Even when the subjects knew it was part of the mission parameters to stay concealed, the technicians reported that they fought to get free of the secondary persona. Perhaps it’s some inborn quirk of this dominant type that drives a person to exert control over their own existence. So much so that they abandoned the project as infeasible.”
“Cypher doesn’t strike me as a submissive personality, either,” Fitz stated. “He said that if he gave Wolf back his body, he’d die, so he’ll fight to stay alive. He may have started life as a simulation in a computer, but now he’s convinced he’s a thinking, feeling being, and he’ll do what’s necessary to survive—even if it means hanging onto control of another man’s body.”
__________
The anonymity of gray work overalls blended Cypher into the crowd as he strolled up the companionway from the shuttle into Coronia Station. Dozens of similarly dressed techs scurried aboard in time for the midday shift change. Case draped over one shoulder, he stayed with the crowd until he reached the first cube hotel, then dropped out to rent a unit for the next six hours.
Little more than a box two meters to a side, the rental contained enough room for him to stand, a bed, toilet, and wash basin. He stripped out of the coveralls, down to the tight-fitting armorcloth underwear. From his case he extracted a pressed and folded black uniform and donned it, adjusting his cap in the tiny metal mirror over the basin. He stuck a mustache to his upper lip and brushed it into place, then used lenses to change his blue eyes to brown. With one last attention to detail, he picked a speck of lint from his dark sleeve with its single purple hash mark.
Certain he looked the part of a well-groomed SpecOps officer, he hoisted his case, locked the room behind him, and headed across the mezzanine. His inhead chrono told him he had time to kill, so he opted for a cup of tea to sooth the jitters crawling up his spine. Jitters he couldn’t allow himself to show.
After dosing his drink with milk and sugar, he walked over to the railing overlooking the main concourse. A young blonde woman stood alone, gazing at the planet dominating the darkness beyond the plexisteel dome.
Coronia was one of three major orbital stations that ringed Scyr, but the only one to share space with the military. Most naval personnel transiting between assignments, or on shore leave, passed through the commercial side to reach the military installation to board a shuttle bound for the Rokotski Shipyards. Some of the smaller warships even docked here, such as the Empire’s newest corvette.
He leaned against the railing, just slightly closer to her than was acceptable for strangers.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? No matter how many times I see a planet from space, I’m still awestruck by the experience.” He affected The Other’s cultured accent.
“Oh, yes, it’s gorgeous. This is my first time…” Her voice juddered to a halt as she turned and took in the black uniform.
Cypher flashed his most innocent smile, and she seemed to relax.
“My first time off-world, I mean. In the military, you do a lot of traveling. You must have seen hundreds of different planets.”
He sipped his tea and shifted several centimeters closer to her. “Yes, but you never get used to the wonder of it. Where are you bound?”
“Rainbow, of course. Hottest vacation spot in the Human Sector. Now that the world is open again after that horrible mess with the old Emperor…” She stiffened as her gaze dropped to his collar and the lightning bolt insignia that identified him as an augie.
“Oh…uh, I guess I’d better hurry. Can’t miss my flight.” She dumped her half-filled coffee cup in the recy
cler and rushed away at a speed just short of a panicked run.
Cypher watched her retreat, his smile growing darker. Fear. He could get used to that reaction from people. It felt…safe. He chuckled and drained his cup. The chrono counting down in his inhead prompted him. Ten minutes. Time to get moving.
The rolling stair took him down to the main level, where he slotted into the crowd moving toward the military checkpoints. The riders approaching him shifted casually aside, as if unwilling to admit that the uniform frightened them. He imagined leaping at them and watching horror twist their bucolic features before they ran screaming. The fantasy must have unconsciously sped up his steps, because the check point came into view several minutes too early.
Cypher stepped to the side, put down his case, and feigned a frantic search through his pockets, looking for a misplaced ident-card, while he studied the gates. Security, tight under normal circumstances, had been heightened substantially. Along with the normal biometric equipment, each gate now boasted body scanners, installed specifically to spot augies. The usual military police had been replaced by a pair of combat-armored marines with not only sidearms, but pulse rifles too.
A light flashed on his inhead warning that the countdown had reached zero; it was 1200 hours. Time to get this cluster-fuck underway. He took a deep breath and damped down the garnshrike-sized flutters in his stomach. Everything depended on Smiley now. If he and his hackers hadn’t done their job, if that asshole had decided to sell him out, then Cypher would be walking into a set of impeller blades. Those marines and their pulse rifles would leave barely enough of him to scrape up off the deck plates.
He clipped his ID to his jacket pocket, rolled his shoulders, and plastered an innocuous smile on his face before strolling toward the gate. The marines stepped forward, tension stiffening their posture as he walked up to place his case on the scanner.
Cypher (The Dragon's Bidding Book 2) Page 15
