He’s surrounded by people that he’s known and depended on for years. He’s in a secure place where he doesn’t have to watch his every word or action, for fear of giving too much away. Will he ever learn to trust me that much?
Rosalita called them out of the pool around noon, directing them toward the shaded back porch area. She had a veritable feast of finger foods laid out on a large table, which were happily ingested by the hoard of hungry teenaged soldiers.
“We really do appreciate all of this, Anne,” Miles told her as they knocked back lunch. With thick black hair and golden brown eyes, he was another of the 01 that could slide into a modeling career without any trouble. “None of us thought we actually needed to learn how to swim, but I am sure glad we came! I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Swimming, who knew?”
“It’s been a lot of fun teaching you,” she assured him. “And I am glad all of you came over. Rys has shared a few stories with me about 01, and I’ve been itching to actually meet you in person.”
Miles shot a speculative look over his shoulder. Anne followed his gaze; Rys was standing on the other end of the deck talking with Gremlin. “He’s been a lot happier since he met you,” Miles confided in a lower more conspiratorial tone. “Out of our entire group, Rys took the forced evacuation from Fourth the hardest. The past few days, he finally seems to be coming to better terms with it. He told me that was your doing. You have been really plowing the road and knocking down the rough spots in front of him. Thanks, Anne.”
“I just offered him a different set of parameters to consider.” She shrugged.
“Us,” Miles corrected. “We’re a very tight knit group, Anne. What affects one of us, pretty much affects the rest.”
“I think I figured that one out,” she replied dryly. The misunderstanding about how many were coming for swimming lessons had hammered that point home. “Well, let me extend an invitation to all of you. You’re welcome to come swimming anytime, this has been a real treat.”
A slow, charming smile took over Miles’s face. “Anne, we will be happy to take you up on that invitation.”
Chapter Nine
One of the challenges of doing reconnaissance missions was that they couldn’t deploy in their usual teams every time. Nova had a great deal of intel on 01—not surprising considering how many times they’d been thwarted by the Special Forces. The United Military Council had known full well that Nova would keep a close watch on all of 01 because of that history. The cover of them being “on sabbatical” and living with Bijordan families had been developed for the specific reason of throwing Nova off their trail.
Of course, to keep from blowing that cover and drawing Nova’s attention back to them, they couldn’t stay in teams all of the time. They had to mix it up and make it look like they were just staying friends with each other.
The whole thing gave Rys a headache.
As the (un)official Man In Charge, he had the wonderful responsibility of figuring out who needed to be deployed where. He had to factor in many logistics and time restraints in order to make it work smoothly, too. So after the swimming party, he’d shut himself up in his room and spent four hair-tearing hours putting together the new teams and writing up reconnaissance parameters for everyone.
They could hardly move en masse on the same day either, as that would look very odd to anyone tracking their movements, so Rys had it spaced out so that one team deployed every other night or so.
By the time he was done, evil thoughts started to percolate in his mind. Maybe he could delegate this task next time. Steve could do it….
His team this mission had every team captain in it. He chose to go to the merchant’s convention as that seemed the most promising target-rich environment for Gremlin to work with.
He didn’t think much about who else might have booked the convention for the evening.
The Castleman Convention Center could not have been described as small in any way. It sprawled across two different streets with walkways that spanned over the road so that people could move from one wing to the other. For all of its massive size, it only had three levels to it — a basement level (where they were headed), a main level that offered everything from small restaurants to novelty shops, and a third level that had smaller rooms and connected directly into two different hotels.
He assumed that the complex had a certain elegance to it, except he couldn’t actually see that to confirm it. There were so many people going in every possible direction that he found himself dodging people only three feet inside of the door. In fact, the only reason why he knew that there were indeed restaurants somewhere nearby was because his nose had picked up the smells of sizzling meat and some sort of tart, tangier scent that he couldn’t identify.
The rest of his team had stopped right behind him, looking around with the same sort of bewilderment he felt.
Aaron opened a channel and sent to the group in general, “So where is it we’re supposed to go?”
“Basement,” Steve answered succinctly.
“Uh, yeah, and how do we get there?”
Rys had been navigating mining facilities, spaceships, and the regions of space since his preteens. He’d always considered himself to be proficient at reading maps and having a good sense of direction. Now he had to consider that maybe he’d never really been challenged before. He hadn’t the faintest clue on how to reach the basement level entrance and that was with the blueprint saved to his chip.
“Well, we came in the south entrance and there’s supposed to be stairs down on the east side, so…” Duane inclined his head toward the right. “That way, I guess.”
As good a guess as any. As a group, they started moving in that general direction. Rys found it harder to focus on his mission than normal because of the crowd all around them. He’d never seen outfits like these. They were every color of the rainbow, some of them particularly bright and garish. There were wigs that ranged from white to black, of every possible length and style — as well as a few impossible styles. Not content with just interesting costumes (he sincerely hoped they were costumes) a good majority of them had on face paint as well. Some designs were simple, such as a trio of stars painted near the corner of an eye. Others were more disturbing with blood and teeth painted on the side of a cheek, or long scar tissue. There didn’t seem to be any pattern or rationale for it, the costumes as varied as the people themselves.
Miles caught his eye and gave an elaborate look around them. “Rys, who else booked the place?”
I don’t know, he admitted frankly. Gremlin’s actually the one that looked everything up. All he told me was that the only Novan group to have the place was the Traders Union.
Duane, clearly not waiting for the answer, had already tapped into the Convention’s network and found the answer for himself. “It says that the Sixth Annual Bijordan Anime Convention and the Tattoo and Horror Convention have also booked space here.”
Rys took another look around. Alright, horror explained the grotesque makeup he’d seen so often here. And he’d heard of Animation — even watched a little of it. So the costumes were starting to make more sense too.
“Okay…” Duane sounded perturbed and his head was turned to look at something just out of Rys’s line of sight. “That’s disturbing.”
“What is?” Steve asked.
“There’s a middle-aged man over there wearing a girl’s school uniform.”
A mental picture of what Steve must be seeing shot through his mind and Rys shook his head to rapidly dismiss it. Steve, don’t tell me stuff like that.
“Yeah, man, we don’t want to know,” Aaron endorsed.
“Hey, hey man.” A strange man covered in tattoos from fingertips to chin stopped them and asked Aaron directly, “Do you know where the Tattoo Convention is?”
“Uhhh…” Aaron stared at him in frank amazement for a long moment before he managed, “Yeah. It’s on this level, but near the north entrance. So, you need to go straight ahead and across the
street.”
“Thanks, man.” With a smile, he turned and weaved his way into the crowd.
“Wait, hold on.” Aaron stared at the spot the man had disappeared with an incredulous look on his face. “There are tons of people all around us wearing tattoos and horror makeup and he asks me for directions?”
Rys had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. I guess you have one of those faces.
“Funny thing is,” Steve added with a smile crinkling his eyes up, “I watched him look all around before he made a beeline for you.”
“Wow.” Shaking his head, Aaron started them moving again. “I’m speechless.”
With a mental prod, Rys got them all moving in the right direction. Halfway across the open foyer they had a stroke of good luck and found a group of Novan traders heading toward their section of the convention. Aside from their general fair complexions and obvious nationality, they could be easily discerned from the rest of the conventions by one striking feature—they were the only ones not in some sort of costume.
Alright, Rys passed along as they entered a narrow hallway, when we get there, spread out.
Several nonverbal acknowledgements came back to him. They passed through a set of double doors in the next moment and entered the convention hall. The room could only be described as massive. It stood two stories tall, with a very large projection screen dominating the far wall. Rows upon rows of chairs were neatly lined up, and practically every chair was occupied. On the second balcony level, even more chairs were set up but most of the space was occupied by standing spectators. No one occupied the single microphone and podium at the front of the room, and everyone seemed to be talking to their neighbors. Rys saw every possible gender, age, and trader’s occupation represented.
When they passed through the doors, they split up. Rys chose to go up on the balcony, as he could see more with his optical implant, and had a better chance of seeing into the distance than anyone else. As he moved up the crowded stairs, he called Gremlin. Gremlin, we’re in position.
“I’m connected to all of the captains, sir. Data is now streaming in real time.”
Good. Half of Rys’s initial fear with this plan was that someone would’ve set up some sophisticated signal jammers that would make this mission a bust.
Someone tapped the mic, sending out a jarring thunk thunk that echoed through the room. The universal signal worked and everyone took their seats. Rys found a nice pillar to lean against, half-obscuring him from everyone’s sight. He spotted Steve and Duane almost instantly, blending in along the sides of the seated crowd. Aaron and Miles were somewhere outside of his viewpoint.
A middle aged woman claimed the mic. She gave the crowd a polished, professional smile and started speaking. Rys paid little attention to what she said — something about renegotiated trade rights with Bijordan — since all of his attention was on the people in the crowd with ‘pads in front of them.
He zoomed in on the nearest man, watching carefully as different commands were entered in. Gremlin, what am I looking for, exactly?
“You’re not, sir. I am. There’s a particular coding sequence that pops up whenever the scans are activated. When I see that coding, I’ll tell you.”
Well, that sounded all fine and well, but… And how am I supposed to tell who’s ‘pad that code is coming from?
“Along with the code will be embedded certain key commands so I can tell you what program their using.”
So we’re still hunting among hundreds of people for certain key people with their ‘pads out and playing specific games?
“Never said it would be easy, sir.”
Rys pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. This could take all night.
“Gremillion,” Steve asked calmly, “can you triangulate the ‘pads signal in the room?”
“Only very vaguely, sir. I could tell you which corner of the room he’s in, but that would be about the best I could do. They’ve got four servers in that room alone.”
At least that gave them something to go off of.
Rys fell back to waiting patiently and scanning the crowd. Only about half of them had their ‘pads out, which wasn’t exactly helpful. Some of them had personal phones out instead, but Gremlin had never specified what kind of device was capable of all of this. Rys wasn’t sure if even he knew.
“There!” Gremlin snapped out. “Front of the room, north corner.”
For the first time since entering the room, Rys saw Aaron move. He flitted out from behind a support column and walked quickly down the side aisle. “Is he using a phone or ‘pad?” Aaron demanded as he moved.
“Don’t know, sir. What are you seeing?”
“A bunch of people playing games or taking notes. Nothing suspicious.”
Rys had exactly the wrong angle to see even half of the people under their scrutiny. I don’t see anything either.
Gremlin issued several unhappy growls. “Code’s gone. It’s buried in the programming again.”
Rys let out a soft growl himself. Yes, this would definitely take all night.
Over the next hour, there were several other alarms, but never once could they pinpoint the source. Gremlin assured them it was coming from different people, and not just one user. They did, however, make progress. They narrowed it down to one corner of the room—the top north corner, actually.
They all shifted their positions slowly, changing so that they had a better view. Rys actually had to walk to the end of the balcony instead of standing on the right side as he had been. It put him even further away from the suspects, but from that angle he had a direct line of sight and he could zoom in on anyone that he wanted to.
“There! This one is a direct input, no other program overlaying it!”
Rys started to quickly scan the group from the top row down. No, no, no, not that one, or anyone on that row, or on the next—wait, what was that? Rys zoomed in even further, taking a half step to the side to get a better angle. The program running now was a simple notepad, nothing pretentious, but for just a second… Rys pulled up the last footage that his eye had filmed and reviewed it. Yes, that man had been running a different program, although the details on the screen didn’t make a lot of sense to him. He saved it and forwarded it onto Gremlin. Is that it?
It took a few minutes for Gremlin to open the file, review it, and then respond. “Yes, sir, that’s it! Alright, that’s one.”
Phew. How many do you need, Gremlin?
“Umm…the more data the better, sir.” Gremlin said this with the same tone a child would use while asking for a major favor from a sibling.
“Lieutenant,” Miles’s voice was maddeningly dry, “are you going to make us stand here all night at your beck and call?”
“While that thought is entertaining, sir…no. The meeting will only last another two hours or so.”
“Thank all the Guardians for small favors,” Aaron grumbled.
Rys silently echoed that sentiment. All right, guys, focus.
***
By the end of the meeting, they’d found a total of six men. Gremlin was able to confirm by that small number that the program had to be deliberately triggered and manipulated. These people were not noncoms duped into being spies. Rys actually preferred it that way. Having every Novan citizen on this planet as a potential spy frankly disturbed him on too many levels. His paranoia instincts preferred having a small, select group of people to watch out for than a general mass.
They walked out of the trader’s convention with weary feet and brewing headaches. Gremlin was the only one truly ecstatic, as this gave him new data to play with. Rys had the feeling that he’d be forced to call his geeky lieutenant nightly for at least the next week and order the man to get five hours of sleep. Gremlin had this bad habit of thinking that sleep was for weaklings and food was a luxury.
Rys’s focus had narrowed down to the idea of just getting to the car and going home, so it took a few moments to realize that munching s
ounds were following him. Turning slightly, he looked over his shoulder for the source.
Steve had a small, rectangular box in one hand and two cylindrical sticks of pink in the other, which he happily munched as he walked.
Duane apparently noticed the munching as well, as he asked in bemusement, “Steve, what is that?”
“Something called pocky,” Steve responded after swallowing a mouthful.
“And where did you get it?” Miles asked suspiciously.
“One of those girls dressed in the short blue dresses with long, blond hair gave it to me.” Steve glanced off to his right, as if tracking his unnamed benefactor. “It’s quite good.”
Aaron pointed at the box. “And is that her phone number I see written on the box?”
Steve shrugged nonchalantly, a twinkle in his eye. “She was pretty cute.”
Rys just rolled his eyes. The girl, whoever she was, certainly had pegged Steve. The surest way to get his attention was food. “I suppose you want to get more of the stuff now?”
Steve nodded thoughtfully. “I think I will.”
Well, their mission parameters were fulfilled for the night. Technically, they could be off duty now. He opened his mouth to say so when for the fifth time that evening, a stranger approached their group and headed straight for Aaron.
“Um, hi,” the woman greeted with a nervous smile. Seeing a nervous smile on a grim reaper was…odd, to say the least. “Do you happen to know where the Anime convention is?”
Rys bit his lip to keep from laughing as Aaron let out a resigned sigh and dutifully gave her directions. It wasn’t just the oddness of having all of these costume-clad, tattooed, garishly made up people asking the only normal person in sight directions that tickled his funny bone. (Although that was definitely part of it.) What really made the situation funny was that the only person they asked, time and again, was Aaron.
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